Fonthill, the home
of Henry Chapman Mercer, Doylestown, Pennsylvania (photo by Concord - Own work,
CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=40253187)
The following is the first of
two posts devoted to a lengthy passage from Bill Kleinsasser’s 1981 edition of his self-published textbook, SYNTHESIS.
His fascination with the work and interests of Henry Chapman Mercer
is perhaps no more evident than in this reading. Like Mercer, Bill disdained
the downsides of modernization and industrialization upon design and
construction, particularly the primacy of standardization and the loss of rich
diversity associated with many historical buildings. Like other followers of
the Arts and Crafts movement, Mercer sought to extol the virtues of vernacular
architecture, patterns inspired by nature, and the work of the
craftsman-designer; however, what sets Mercer apart is the extent to which
legend, literature, Americana, and archaeology influenced his approach to
architecture.
Henry Mercer’s three major
building designs—Fonthill Castle, the Mercer Museum, and the Moravian Pottery
and Tile Works—are peculiar and idiosyncratic, but they are also distinctive,
evocative, and highly personal. In this regard, it’s not surprising Bill would
be fascinated by their appearance, the lessons to be learned from them, and
their eccentric author.
Part 1: Imagery of Many Times and Many Places
Henry Mercer believed in knowledge as a means of establishing historical connections. He often repeated the verse:
Happy the man who sees in
things
Their causes gone before
All fear he spurns beneath his feet
Nor dreads inexorable fate
And Acheron’s hungry roar.
Mercer knew and respected what
had existed before. Not only was he a great student of his place, but also an
active archaeologist and ethnologist for many years before he built his
buildings. His Museum extended and expanded an earlier one. Fonthill gave new
life to the colonial farmhouse it joined. The Tileworks made possible the
preservation and development of the art of the Pennsylvania German potters. The
Museum contained thousands of artifacts that portray history from the
standpoint of toil by human hands, and on its grounds Mercer reconstructed a
pioneer log cabin so that its eloquent example would not be lost. Fonthill
preserves and displays native trees and plants, and contains another colonial
farmhouse, repaired and given to the local nature club to be used. His
buildings look old and feel old. They contain many old things, and they evoke
old forms and old places. Made on the strength of knowledge and respect, they
continue the past rather than destroy it.
Mercer was devoted to the
study of all manifestations of life, and he argued that:
Henry Mercer believed in knowledge as a means of establishing historical connections. He often repeated the verse:
Their causes gone before
All fear he spurns beneath his feet
Nor dreads inexorable fate
And Acheron’s hungry roar.
“We are here to protect
humanity from mistakes, and if we do nothing better, we thoroughly justify our
existence: research, discovery,
investigation, and longing to open a new door and to find out something never
known before. What a burning fire it is and how it seizes upon us. I do hope
that some of you have this fire lit within you. If so, add fuel, get hold of
the splendid torch of knowledge and wave it about.”
Mercer’s historical awareness
was an inspiration and a great source of ideas. Consequently, his buildings
have a kinship with many places and different lives. Drawings and notations in
his notebooks, written descriptions from his stories and papers, and
photographs and drawings from his library all confirm that much of the character
of his buildings resulted from images, first recalled and then carefully
developed, from his travels and studies. These images include dimensions of
spaces and small details, special qualities and entire places, places known
only by literary descriptions, places real, and places imaginary. In The
Building of Fonthill, Mercer wrote that:
“The plan of the whole house
was an interweaving of my own fancies blending with memories of my travels and
suggestions from several engravings, in particular The Dutch Houskeeper
by Gerard Dow, The Great Barn by Wovermans, and a lithograph now in my
morning room, also a woodcut illustrating a story called Haunted in a
book published about 1865 by Tinsleys magazine named A Stable for
Nightmares. This picture gives me the night lighting of the morning room. The
first interior imagined and clearly seen was that of the west side of the
saloon seen when standing near the large window about eight feet from the door
to the library. The arrangement of the rooms at different levels seen over the
gallery in the saloon is a memory of a Turkish house seen by me from a rear
garden in Salonica in 1886.”
Mercer did not write directly
again of the inspiration of images and memories, but their importance is
strongly suggested by mention in his notebooks, writings, and travel
photographs of many places, imaginary and real. Included among these are:
- The cave temples of Ellora and Elephants in India.
- The sunken city of Epidaurus near the Pelloponesus.
- The home of Carabas (in The Book of Fools by Thackery).
- The chapels of San Luis Rey, San Juan Capistrano, and San Miguel in California (which reappear in the elements and shape of the Tileworks.
- The imaginary cities of Avalon, Antiglia, Montezuma, Huitzilo-Pochtli, and Manoa (in the tiles of Fonthill).
- Several caves of France and the southern United States.
Burg Vichtenstein, a
12th century castle in Austria (photo by C.Stadler/Bwag, CC BY-SA 4.0
<https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons)
Castles
They (Mercer's stories) also contain repeated references to important memories and images, especially castles. In the story Castle Valley, Mercer recalls the often-told Bucks County legend of James Meredith, who tried to build a castle overlooking Castle Valley, failed in the attempt, and went mad. It is said that some of the castle stones are still in the foundation of a nearby bridge, which itself has long been a ruin. Henry Mercer was in fact a relative of the legendary James Meredith, and as Joseph Sandford writes in Mercer as Seen in His Fiction, “. . . we may wonder how much the family tradition may have contributed to the building of Fonthill and the Museum, or whether its architect has ever toyed with the idea of placing it on that hilltop overlooking the Neshaminy. It needs such a setting, but the hard practicality which had permitted its builder to dare without destruction must have forbidden it. Yet we cannot help but feel that in his successful accomplishment he has built a memorial to the vision of his thwarted kinsman.”
Here are Mercer’s words from Castle
Valley (the first speaker is the character, Charles Meredith, representing
Mercer himself):
They (Mercer's stories) also contain repeated references to important memories and images, especially castles. In the story Castle Valley, Mercer recalls the often-told Bucks County legend of James Meredith, who tried to build a castle overlooking Castle Valley, failed in the attempt, and went mad. It is said that some of the castle stones are still in the foundation of a nearby bridge, which itself has long been a ruin. Henry Mercer was in fact a relative of the legendary James Meredith, and as Joseph Sandford writes in Mercer as Seen in His Fiction, “. . . we may wonder how much the family tradition may have contributed to the building of Fonthill and the Museum, or whether its architect has ever toyed with the idea of placing it on that hilltop overlooking the Neshaminy. It needs such a setting, but the hard practicality which had permitted its builder to dare without destruction must have forbidden it. Yet we cannot help but feel that in his successful accomplishment he has built a memorial to the vision of his thwarted kinsman.”
“Very delightful,” I said,
“but I don’t quite understand. You have idealized things, not too much perhaps,
but why the castle on the hill? Isn’t that going a little too far?
“I expected you to say that”
he returned, laughing.
“The legend,” I continued, “is
somewhat vague and hardly justifies you in deliberately putting it on canvas.”
“What legend?” he asked. “I
know of no legend.”
“Do you mean to say,” I
returned, “that you have painted a castle on that hill, without knowing that
there was a castle there at one time, or the beginning of one, at least?”
“Never heard a word of it,”
said he in astonishment.
“Why, the place is called
Castle Valley,” I exclaimed, “from that fact, and I ought to know something of
it, as the builder is supposed to be one of my ancestors. But it’s all gone
long ago, the stones were used to build the bridge yonder.”
Pryor listened in surprise as
I went on to explain that my ancestor in question, according to family
tradition, had been in some way thwarted in the singular project of building a castle
on the hill before us. Whether because of the hostility of his father and
friends, or his own mental derangement, his architectural dream had never been
realized. The walls had hardly risen above their foundations when the poor
fellow died.
“I always felt very sorry for
this,” I added. “But it is one of hose unfortunate memories that lose their
tragedy and blend into folklore as time goes on. What strikes me as very
remarkable though is the fact that you should be ignorant of the castle story
and yet paint the castle one hundred and fifty years later. The castle became
an ideal that we hold on to, in spite of the Devil and all his angels.”
“Just as I thought it was from
the first, without knowing why.“ said Pryor.
“Now that the stone is gone,
it is fortunate that I have seen your castle, thunderstorm included,” I
continued, “or I should never have known what you were talking about. So much
for hypnotism. But how wonderful, how astonishing it is, merely as a picture!
Don’t you think so? Those unearthly pinnacles that pierce the clouds! If I were
a painter, as you are, and saw a thing like that, I would feel that I had got
hold of my ladder of fortune and only need to climb up, up, up.”
“But the ladder is yours as
well as mine.”
“Why” I am not the painter,
and never could be.”
“What are you?”
I got up, seized his hand, and
looked deep into his glowing eyes. “I didn’t know, till just
now,” said I. “I thought I was a politician. But I have decided that I am an
architect!”
Though without the same
ecstasy, castle imagery appears again and again in Mercer’s notes and records
of travels. He photographed many real castles in France, Germany, and Austria;
he drew them floating in the air and emerging half-hidden from forests. He
collected etchings and engravings of them, and he wrote of them in several
other short stories. He was also most interested in hose buildings bearing the
greatest resemblance to castles: factories, coal breakers, grain elevators,
blast furnaces, and, at least in form, skyscrapers. (WK/1981)
To be continued . . .
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Next: Part 2: Layering, Light, Caves