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For a few years now, I've been looking at the Mercer and Fonthill museums in the Pennsylvania guidebooks, intrigued by the sight of castles only a half-hour from downtown Philadelphia. Pleased to discover that our ever-gracious hosts hadn't been on this particular adventure yet, we set out on a very, very, VERY windy day for the Mercer museum.
Mercer Museum (photo by cymry)
It's a castle, a real one, located in Doylestown, Pennsylvania. Due to an electrical short (we stepped over the downed wires later in our strolls), we decided to explore the town while we waited to see if the power would be restored. The exterior of the museum is marvelous, as tall and imposing as I expect a real castle would be (keep in mind, I've never actually stood in the shadow of a real European castle, let alone set foot inside one). It made us terribly sad not to be able to step inside, but a quick tour of the picturesque little town quickly lifted our spirits. We found old churches, comic book and games shops, a nice pet store, and some good food at a local sports bar (after being greeted with hostility and surprise at a nearby pub, which we promptly reconsidered as a possible eating place). And, hours later, we returned to find that the museum staff had taken the opportunity of downed power lines (which were by then restored) and taken the rest of the day off.
Encouraged by the locals that Fonthill Museum was indeed open and not far away, we drove off with our trusty (but annoying) GPS. We passed a lovely cemetery, full of old stones and crypts, with a vow to return later (which we didn't, sadly). And after a bit of searching, there was Fonthill, tucked back from the road down a long avenue of trees just like you'd find in Louisiana (or so our host assured us). It too was tall and imposing, but there were many more windows and things were just a little off. Behind the castle stood a pottery works, with cast ceramic tiles on the roof and a quaint air, but all our attention was fixed on this fascinating castle.
Fonthill Museum (photo by cymry)
Built by Henry Mercer between 1908-1912, the Fonthill Museum is a marvel of concrete, tile and whimsy. A moderately wealthy ceramic tile factory owner, Mercer had acquired a love of travel and specifically of castles over years spent in Europe; he had a passion for archaeology and what we now call anthropology, learning and collecting everything he could about everything he saw. When he inherited a huge sum of money in the early 1900s ($30,000 - of which the castle only cost him $8,000), he immediately lit upon the idea of building himself a castle like the ones he had so admired in Europe, and filling it with his treasures.
Fonthill was made entirely of poured concrete, inlaid with ceramic tiles for decoration. He poured concrete over the 18th century cottage that used to stand on the grounds, incorporating it into the body of the castle. He inlaid his tiles while the concrete was still wet, allowing them to set as part of the walls, the floor, the ceilings, and especially the columns. He wasn't a great believer in straight lines; he was an Arts & Crafts man, and adhered to their Function over Form mentality. As a result, several of the rooms are a little slanted, and windows are placed according to where they were needed, not where it was aesthetically pleasing for them to be.
Mercer was very involved with the construction of Fonthill; he made clay models of the rooms, sticking them together to create a pleasing shape, rather than carving out the interior once the exterior was perfected. He wanted 88 rooms, but settled for 44. And in each one, including the stairways and halls, he laid out the world as he saw it, in tiles.
Tiles from the Fonthill museum (photo from mercermuseums, Flickr)
One of the hallways is decorated with Chinese roof tiles, augmented by Mercer's Chinese-inspired tiles and the original tools used by the Chinese. He had these shipped directly from China.
In his study, chicken wire holds antique pots of all sorts, ranging from Cypriotic to Mediaeval, where the ceiling meets the walls. The columns, covered with Mercer's own tiles, have tiny Phoenician cuneiform tablets inlaid between the tiles, as if they too were just another of Mercer's works. Thousands of leather-bound books sit in concrete bookcases, pierced by windows "just in case the reader wanted to peruse a title then and there."
In the small room leading to Mercer's favorite outdoor terrace, the ceiling mural depicts a scene of cannibals eating one another. In the main room reserved for female guests (Mercer himself was a bachelor), a mural depicting the story of Bluebeard (and his tendency to murder his wives) adorns the wall opposite the bed (and what was the story behind THAT?).
In the saloon, the tiles on the floor represent the flags of all the nations of the world, as he knew them; the fireplace is adorned with tiles depicting the discovery of the new world, first by the Chinese (which he believed was a myth), then the Vikings, and finally Cortez. The ceiling is a vast, enlightened (for the times) mosaic on the various peoples of the new world, their achievements, and what they brought to the settlers.
Saloon in the Fonthill Museum (photo by mercermuseums, Flickr)
The walls were covered, in every room, hallway, and staircase, with etchings and lithographs. Manacles, spears, skulls, and other anthropological and historical items adorned every surface. Mercer even went so far as to place a small number beside most of the items, which was then matched by a record in a catalog, providing the curious visitor with more information on the item. Mercer used Fonthill not just as a personal home, but as a showcase for his tiles (he was firmly opposed to marketing). By 1916, Mercer had decided that he would use his wealth to collect items from around the world, but also of everyday life, preserving them for future generations in the museum he would build, called the Mercer Museum.
* * *
What we saw at Fonthill was only a small piece of Mercer's brilliance, and obsessiveness. Of the 44 rooms, the tour only covered roughly a dozen. What remained unseen was perhaps more fascinating than what we saw, though it is easy to see why visitors are not allowed to wander at will: the danger of getting lost is only trumped by the fear of what a careless visitor could do to the countless treasures found everywhere in the castle.
It is most unfortunate that we couldn't see the Mercer Museum as well, or that we couldn't take photographs of the interior of Fonthill. A photographer could die happy there, with months of interesting shots. A conservator, however, might die of shock. The thought of cataloging the contents, and setting up some kind of a conservation guideline, crossed my mind more than once, I will admit.
Mercer & Fonthill Museums website
Mercer Museum (photo by cymry)
It's a castle, a real one, located in Doylestown, Pennsylvania. Due to an electrical short (we stepped over the downed wires later in our strolls), we decided to explore the town while we waited to see if the power would be restored. The exterior of the museum is marvelous, as tall and imposing as I expect a real castle would be (keep in mind, I've never actually stood in the shadow of a real European castle, let alone set foot inside one). It made us terribly sad not to be able to step inside, but a quick tour of the picturesque little town quickly lifted our spirits. We found old churches, comic book and games shops, a nice pet store, and some good food at a local sports bar (after being greeted with hostility and surprise at a nearby pub, which we promptly reconsidered as a possible eating place). And, hours later, we returned to find that the museum staff had taken the opportunity of downed power lines (which were by then restored) and taken the rest of the day off.
Encouraged by the locals that Fonthill Museum was indeed open and not far away, we drove off with our trusty (but annoying) GPS. We passed a lovely cemetery, full of old stones and crypts, with a vow to return later (which we didn't, sadly). And after a bit of searching, there was Fonthill, tucked back from the road down a long avenue of trees just like you'd find in Louisiana (or so our host assured us). It too was tall and imposing, but there were many more windows and things were just a little off. Behind the castle stood a pottery works, with cast ceramic tiles on the roof and a quaint air, but all our attention was fixed on this fascinating castle.
Fonthill Museum (photo by cymry)
Built by Henry Mercer between 1908-1912, the Fonthill Museum is a marvel of concrete, tile and whimsy. A moderately wealthy ceramic tile factory owner, Mercer had acquired a love of travel and specifically of castles over years spent in Europe; he had a passion for archaeology and what we now call anthropology, learning and collecting everything he could about everything he saw. When he inherited a huge sum of money in the early 1900s ($30,000 - of which the castle only cost him $8,000), he immediately lit upon the idea of building himself a castle like the ones he had so admired in Europe, and filling it with his treasures.
Fonthill was made entirely of poured concrete, inlaid with ceramic tiles for decoration. He poured concrete over the 18th century cottage that used to stand on the grounds, incorporating it into the body of the castle. He inlaid his tiles while the concrete was still wet, allowing them to set as part of the walls, the floor, the ceilings, and especially the columns. He wasn't a great believer in straight lines; he was an Arts & Crafts man, and adhered to their Function over Form mentality. As a result, several of the rooms are a little slanted, and windows are placed according to where they were needed, not where it was aesthetically pleasing for them to be.
Mercer was very involved with the construction of Fonthill; he made clay models of the rooms, sticking them together to create a pleasing shape, rather than carving out the interior once the exterior was perfected. He wanted 88 rooms, but settled for 44. And in each one, including the stairways and halls, he laid out the world as he saw it, in tiles.
Tiles from the Fonthill museum (photo from mercermuseums, Flickr)
One of the hallways is decorated with Chinese roof tiles, augmented by Mercer's Chinese-inspired tiles and the original tools used by the Chinese. He had these shipped directly from China.
In his study, chicken wire holds antique pots of all sorts, ranging from Cypriotic to Mediaeval, where the ceiling meets the walls. The columns, covered with Mercer's own tiles, have tiny Phoenician cuneiform tablets inlaid between the tiles, as if they too were just another of Mercer's works. Thousands of leather-bound books sit in concrete bookcases, pierced by windows "just in case the reader wanted to peruse a title then and there."
In the small room leading to Mercer's favorite outdoor terrace, the ceiling mural depicts a scene of cannibals eating one another. In the main room reserved for female guests (Mercer himself was a bachelor), a mural depicting the story of Bluebeard (and his tendency to murder his wives) adorns the wall opposite the bed (and what was the story behind THAT?).
In the saloon, the tiles on the floor represent the flags of all the nations of the world, as he knew them; the fireplace is adorned with tiles depicting the discovery of the new world, first by the Chinese (which he believed was a myth), then the Vikings, and finally Cortez. The ceiling is a vast, enlightened (for the times) mosaic on the various peoples of the new world, their achievements, and what they brought to the settlers.
Saloon in the Fonthill Museum (photo by mercermuseums, Flickr)
The walls were covered, in every room, hallway, and staircase, with etchings and lithographs. Manacles, spears, skulls, and other anthropological and historical items adorned every surface. Mercer even went so far as to place a small number beside most of the items, which was then matched by a record in a catalog, providing the curious visitor with more information on the item. Mercer used Fonthill not just as a personal home, but as a showcase for his tiles (he was firmly opposed to marketing). By 1916, Mercer had decided that he would use his wealth to collect items from around the world, but also of everyday life, preserving them for future generations in the museum he would build, called the Mercer Museum.
* * *
What we saw at Fonthill was only a small piece of Mercer's brilliance, and obsessiveness. Of the 44 rooms, the tour only covered roughly a dozen. What remained unseen was perhaps more fascinating than what we saw, though it is easy to see why visitors are not allowed to wander at will: the danger of getting lost is only trumped by the fear of what a careless visitor could do to the countless treasures found everywhere in the castle.
It is most unfortunate that we couldn't see the Mercer Museum as well, or that we couldn't take photographs of the interior of Fonthill. A photographer could die happy there, with months of interesting shots. A conservator, however, might die of shock. The thought of cataloging the contents, and setting up some kind of a conservation guideline, crossed my mind more than once, I will admit.
Mercer & Fonthill Museums website
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Date: 2011-03-13 01:04 am (UTC)From:Man, Pennsylvania just gets nicer and nicer. I was there in the early 2000's and I will never forget how stunning the foliage was...Magnolias EVERYWHERE. And I hear Pittsburgh is pretty keen too,