Johannes Kelpius | Extract from Paul Ardenheim/title> <meta name="Keywords" content="ardennheim, paul ardenheim, lippard, george lippard, wissahickon, 19th century literature, philadelphia history, kelpius, " /> <meta name="Description" content="An extract from Paul Ardenheim: Monk of the Wissahikcon by George LIppard"/>   </head> <body> <div id="wrapper">  <div id="header"> <h1>Middleton Books </h1> <p>Intelligent Adventure </p> </div>    <div id="page">  <div id="content" style="background-image:url(../../images/witwimages/hymnbackground.jpg); padding: 1em 1em 2em 2em;"> <span class="floatright"><a href="../../images/witwimages/cipher.png"><img src="/images/witwimages/cipher.png" alt="cryptic lines" style="width:12em; border:none"/></a></a></span> <h4>Paul Ardenheim: Monk of Wissahickon</h4> <p class="subhead">Prologue</p> <p>At first sight, this of course, looked like nothing but a scrawl, without object or meaning, but as entire pages were written in the same manner-- as there seemed to be something like <i>system, </i> in the very <i>irregularity</i> of the <i>lines</i> and their <i>angles</i>--curiosity was excited, and the most strenuous exertions made to discover the meaning of some particular part, and thus construct a key for the whole. After much effort, the characters given above were discovered to represent the word--Mount Sepulchre. "The translation of the Cipher was then accomplished without much difficult. The passage in which the word "Mount Sepulchre" occured was first translated; and the author discovered that it was a quotation from some unknown Manuscript, entitled "The Manuscript Of The Sealed Chamber," <i>written by a Monk, in the Reign of the Eighth Henry, and connected with the events of The Wissahikon, by a thread of peculiar and important incidents.</i></p> <p>The first passage translated from the Cipher was in substance as follows: </p> <p>"In order that these things which appear to you so strange, may be in some measure accounted for, I subjoin a passage from the Manuscript Of The Sealed Chamber (written as you know in the reign of Henry VIII., by Prior Eustace) which connects the incidents of the present history, with an almost incredible tragedy, which happened more than two hundred years ago." </p> <p>Then followed the passage from the MSS. of the Sealed Chamber, which is subjoined with some modifications of style, language, etc. although the Spirit of the Original is preserved. </p> <p>"MOUNT SEPULCHRE"<br/> You cannot picture to yourself a nobler image of Feudal grandeur, than that which was embodied in the Castle of Mount Sepulchre. </p> <p> (Even I that write these words, "Father Eustace" once, and "Prior of the Monastery, " near the Castle, but now plain Eustace Brynne, even I, that know so well the terrible deeds enacted in the Castle, can scarce believe that a scene so fair to the eye, was ever made the theatre of such unnatural crimes.) </p> <p>The traveller who might chance to journey through the woods of Yorkshire, suddenly emerged from the shadows, and stood upon a rock which overhung a magnificent prospect of woods, and hills, and valleys, with tranquil waters gleaming here and there, like the shattered fragments of a great mirror framed in emerald. </p> <p>And in the midst of this prospect, nay, in the very foreground, arose the grand old castle of Mount Sepulchre. </p> <p>A massive hill rose suddenly from the bosom of a forest. It was a wide forest, full of oaken trees, whose woven branches shut out the sun, and invested the turf with a rich twilight shadow. It was a wide forest, and, yet standing upon the jutting rock, you might behold a wide expanse of green meadows, and luxuriant orchards, abrupt hills and vallies threaded by silver streams stretching beyond the limits of this forest to the far distant horizon. Then, there were mansions too, breaking suddenly upon the sight--here a fortified grange standing amid oaken trees on the summit of a gentle hill, there a farm-house, lifting its gray walls from orchard trees, and on the slope of some meadow dotted with sleek cattle, the sombre towers of a Monastery, rushed suddenly on the view. </p> <p>But, in the midst of this varied and beautiful prospect--the noblest thing which met the eye--arose the old Castle of Mount Sepulchre. </p> <p>It stood alone on the summit of that broad hill which arose from the bosom of the forest. -It was a strange structure presenting at once to your sight massive walls, and lofty towers ; here a slender pillar like the minaret of a Pagan Mosque, pierced the blue sky, with its banner of white, and gold floating into Heaven, and there a huge mass of dark stone rose in the sunlight, with the green vines trailing about its windows, and flowers fluttering from its gloomy parapet. </p> <p>In fact, the Castle of Mount Sepulchre presented at a glance, a gorgeous combination of Gothic and Oriental Architecture. As you gazed upon it from the jutting crag, it seemed as though the spirits of the Eastern and the Western world had met in ''this beautiful valley of England, and reared this magnificent pile, as a trophy of their combined skill. </p> <p>Many ages ago when the third Richard was in the land--this Castle was only a stern image of dark stone, with four rude towers rising into Tieaven, and cell-like windows indenting the surface of its sombre walls. </p> <p>Then, a solid wall encircled the base of the hill, with a gate rising to the west, and beyond this wall a wide and deep moat, separated the hill from the surrounding woods. </p> <p>But the Lord of Mount Sepulchre followed King Richard, the Lion Heart to the wars of Palestine, and were thousands only fought to win a grave, he fought and won more fame, more titles and more gold. </p> <p>Therefore returning from the holy wars, he added new lands to the domain of the Castle. He hung around its gloomy walls the fantastic glories of Oriental architecture, and between the sombre walls Pagan minarets arose, and where had been dark courts paved with unsightly stone, new gardens bloomed, their flowers and foliage fluttering about the old castle, like rich drapery around a rugged warrior's breast. </p> <p>This Lord of the day of Richard, the Lion-Heart, even changed the name of the castle : it had been called by the rude Gothic name of his ancestors, but in memory of the Holy wars,--perchance in memory of the Sacred Tomb of Christ--he called it Mount Sepulchre. </p> <p>And so, as you see it now in the reign of Henry the Eighth, our glorious King, he left the Castle to his heir, and lies buried in a Chapel somewhere amid the mazes of yonder Castle, a Chapel which resembles a Pagan Mosque, with its mosaic pavement, its swelling dome, and quaintly fashioned lamps, even burning over altars of sculptured marble. </p> <p>We will stand upon this jutting rock, and trace the features of this Castle by the light of the summer day. </p> <p>It crowns the summit of the hill, with its towers and pillars gleaming in the sun.</p> <p>The base of the hill is still encircled by a heavy wall, but that wall is adorned with towers, and two massive pillars crowned by long and tapering spires', mark the position of the castle gate. </p> <p>Beyond this wall, which encircles a space of twenty acres or more, in fact, girdles the entire hill, there is no longer an unsightly moat filled with stagnant water, but a stream of silver, which flows from the woods in the west, winds around the wall like a belt of shining silver beside a belt of iron, and then disappears in the woods toward the east. </p> <p>The space between the castle on top of the hill, and the wall at its base, is diversified with gardens, divided by walks fantastically arranged, and adorned with shrubbery and flowers of almost every clime. It seems indeed, like a garden stolen by some enchanter from the valley of the Arno, and set down on English soil amid the scenes of Yorkshire. </p> <p>The Baron of Mount S'pulchre can gaze from the loftiest toper of his Castle, and turn his eyes to the east, to the west, to the north, and to the south, exclaiming as he turns, "This--and this--all that I behold is mine! " </p> <p>For he is a powerful lord, high in favor with our Sovereign Lord, Henry the Eighth, who the other day sat aside his Spanish Queen, and took to his arms a New Queen, in the person of the witching maiden, Anne Boleyn. It will be remembered that at the same time, he took to his bed a New Queen, he also took to his Altar a new Religion. He set aside the Pope, and now reigns at once Pope and King, with the power to set aside as many queens and religions as it shall please his dread Majesty. </p> <p>The Lord Harry Mount Sepulchre of Mount Sepulchre is not only a powerful Lord, but he is young, gallant and fair to look upon. Only twenty-four years of age, with a form of iron and a fair face, shaded by golden hair, he can wield a sword, back a steed, or win a peasant uiuid with any Lord in Christendom. </p> <p>He is the Last of his Race--the last of the Mount Sepulchres, and. yet, he has taken no bride to his-lordly bed. Rich with the possessions of his race, richer with the gifts and favor of the King, he cares not ta load his young heart with the chains of wedlock, or darken hia gay bachelor life with the frown of some jealous dame. </p> <p>Would I might pierce the castle walls, and show him to you as he sits at the head of the well-loaded board, goblet in hand, with the faces of some score of gay lords like himself echoing his merry jests, and copying his courtly smiles. </p> <p>He is the last of his race, and yet, his father the old Lord is not dead. In yonder gloomy tower, which separates itself from the body of the castle, and mocks the glad summer with its sullen grandeur, sits an old man, very old, in faith, with the snows of ninety winters upon his white beard. </p> <p>Many years ago he was stricken at once with palsy, and with blindness. It was soon after his eldest son, a dark-haired boy, who loved the book-better than the sword, and the air of the woods better than the perfumed atmosphere of the Count,--left the Castle suddenly for other lands, without once bidding Lord Hubert farewell. </p> <p>For many years the old man awaited the return of his Son. He had heard of him from various parts of Europe, now from Hungary, now from Italy, and again from Spain. But, the eldest son never returned. He was a wanderer upon the face of the earth ; the old Baron knew not wherefore, but sat looking day after day from the tower of his castle, turning his eyes to every quarter of the horizon, in the hope to behold his returning Son. </p> <p>"When Ranulph of Mount Sepulchre returns, and takes upon himself the sway of the Castle and its domains, then I can die in peace. " </p> <p>Ranulph was the name of his dark-haired Son. </p> <p>Long the old man waited--not a day shone, but found him in the tower waiting for his eldest born. But Ranulph never came. </p> <p>One day there came a messenger with a letter, which enclosed a lock of hair. It was dark hair, with a thread of silver turned among its blackness. The old Baron looked upon the lock of hair, read the letter and knew that his eldest born was dead. Ranulph had been killed in a duel in Florence--his ashes slept beside the Arno. </p> <p>Blindness smote the old man's eyeballs, palsy withered his limbs--he sits even now, mourning in the old tower, his white beard descending over his gaunt chest--he sits alone with his blindness, his disease and his ninety years, while his gay Son, Lord Harry Mount Sepulchre holds high festival in the great hall of the castle. </p> <p>It will be remembered, that in consequence of the age, the blindness-- shall I say idiocy--of the old Baron, Lord Harry had been invested with all his rights and powers as Supreme Lord of Mount Sepulchre, even before his father was dead. This had been done by our gracious Lord King Henry, who having power to set aside queens and religions at his pleasure, certainly has the right to invest an heir with all that pertains to Lordship, even before the old man his father is gathered into the grave vault. </p> <p>And merry are the days of the young Lord in his castle, and joyous are his nights; care comes not to chill his ardent heart, neither can the anger of living man make his soul afraid. </p> <p>He spends his days and nights bravely with his redoubted Twenty-Four. </p> <p>His redoubted Twenty-Four ! Yes, for he hath gathered to himself, from country and from Court, nay, even from lands beyond the Sea, Twenty-Four noble Knights, who know no altar but a well-filled table, no God save a brimming Cup. They share his gold, they partake of <i>his</i> pleasures ; when he wiles some buxom peasant maid with his dainty tongue they laugh, and when he points to them a man who hath done him wrong--they kill. </p> <p>A merry time they have together, Lord Harry and his Twenty-Four. By day they hunt over hill and plain, with mettled steeds and baying hounds; at night the wine-cup and the board, with now and then a pleasure, that might suit the luxurious gloom of an Eastern Seraglio, but does not befit a page like mine to tell. </p> <p>Oftentimes at dead of night they issue forth from the castle gates, mounted on fiery steeds and with torches in their hands, go thundering through the silent country, like so many devils on devils' steeds. </p> <p>The peasant sleeping on his rude cot after the hard day's toil, starts up at the sound of their horses tramp, but ere he can look from his window they are gone. Now and then, a knight madder than the rest, flings* his blazing torch into some farmer's hayrick, and the band go dashing and tramping on their way, by a light more vivid than the sun. Then, how their shouts echo through the woods as the hayrick fires the farmer's home, and forces the rude peasant and his dame, with the little child upon her bosom, from their slumbers ! </p> <p>O, they are in faith, a merry band, Lord Harry and his brave Twenty-Four.</p> <p>In the depths of the wood, not far from the castle hill, stands a gloomy fabric, whose dismantled walls makes the wayfarer turn aside, even by the light of day, and grow cold with fear at dead of night. </p> <p>This deserted fabric was not long ago a Monastery tenanted by an idle swarm of monks and nuns, but, our Lord King Henry took a new wife, and a new Religion, and therefore our Lord Baron Harry went forth not ong ago, near the break of day, and but 'tis a long story, and I have not time to tell it now. </p> <p>It is said they had a merry time scourging the affrighted monks through smoke and flame. As for the nuns, some were old, and they turned them forth upon the night into the rude world. Some were young and fair to look upon, and the brave Twenty-Four took them on their saddles to the castle, and--</p> <p>It made a great stir among the peasants of the Baron's domain. Some affrighted ones with their garments torn, and the marks of rude hands upon their breasts were found, after a lapse of three or four days wandering in the forests, startling the stillness with their ravings, and uttering the name of Lord Harry coupled with curses. </p> <p>But they were nuns. </p> <p>It is also said that the peasant talks in low tones of the good old times, when old Baron Hubert held the sway, and his dark-eyed son came kindly to their cottages, and broke bread at their tables, yes, broke bread even with these, the rude peasant people. </p> <p>There is a prophecy among these base born folks, that one day Lord Ranulph will return and unseat his younger Brother from the saddle, and assume the rule of the broad domains of Mount Sepulchre. But 'tis only a vague superstition of these vassals, who are born for the good pleasure of such Lords as the brave Harry, and such Kings as the high and mighty Henry, the Eighth of his name, sovereign of England and France, Defender of the Faith and Pope of the New Religion. </p> <p>The sun is getting low in the heaven. There are broad shadows over the distant fields, and the base of the castle hill is lost in twilight, while the pillars and towers far above, shine 'through the clear air like columns of living flame. </p> <p>We will descend from this jutting rock which overlooks the prospect, and enter the grand old castle of Mount Sepulchre.</p> <p><a href="witw_fiction.html">Return to the Fictional Kelpius.</a></p> </div>   <div id="sidebar"> <ul> <li> <h2>The Woman in the Wilderness</h2> <ul> <li><a href="witw1.html">About the book</a></li> <li><a href="witw_prologue.html">Read the Prologue</a></li> <li><a href="witw_author.html">About Jonathan D. 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