Henry Chapman Mercer’s Quixotic Castles and Caves

Fonthill Castle (all photos by me)

During my recent trip to Pennsylvania, I visited three remarkable buildings in Doylestown, Bucks County: the Mercer Museum, the Moravian Pottery and Tile Works, and Fonthill Castle. Archaeologist, artifact collector, and tilemaker Henry Chapman Mercer (1856–1930) designed and built the buildings to embody his interests in history, craft, and storytelling, innovatively employing reinforced, cast-in-place concrete throughout.
 
I’ve previously written on Mercer’s architecture, particularly drawing from University of Oregon professor Bill Kleinsasser’s insights. Like Mercer, Bill critiqued the effects of modernization and industrialization on design, especially the rise of standardization and the loss of diversity found in historical buildings. As a figure associated with the Arts and Crafts movement, Mercer championed vernacular architecture, nature-inspired motifs, and the craftsman-designer’s role. He stood out for his ability to weave legend, literature, Americana, and archaeology into his work. His three buildings are not only unique but also deeply personal and evocative. Bill appreciated their visual qualities, the lessons they offer, and their creator’s eccentricity.
 

The Mercer Museum rises an imposing six stories, housing Mercer’s immense collection of pre-industrial tools. The central atrium is crammed with objects, many of which are hung vertiginously from the ceiling above. Narrow staircases and abrupt transitions shape the experience. The building doesn’t guide visitors through a clear sequence; instead, it asks them to navigate on their own terms. The density of artifacts and the verticality of the atrium create a kind of spatial compression. It may lack legibility, but it is undeniably absorbing.

 

The Mercer Museum.

Inside the museum.

The Tile Works operates to this day. Its architecture is low-slung, with thick concrete walls, a ground-level loggia bordering a central courtyard, and a roofline punctuated by numerous kiln chimneys—each one slightly different in shape and tile adornment. Inside, the layout follows the logic of production, with workspaces, kilns, and drying rooms arranged in a straightforward manner. The building extends the tradition of Pennsylvania German potters and continues to produce tiles using Mercer’s original molds and methods. Mercer drew inspiration from Spanish Mission-style architecture when designing the Tile Works—an unusual reference for Bucks County, but one that lends the structure a sense of restraint and clarity. That restraint stands in contrast to the more elusive formal logic of the Mercer Museum and Fonthill, where spatial organization feels less tied to function.

The Moravian Pottery and Tile Works.

Courtyard.

Reception Hall.

 

Fonthill served as Mercer’s home. The labyrinthine building sprawls across the site, fully enveloping an older stone farmhouse. It holds forty-four rooms of varying shapes and sizes, eighteen fireplaces, and thirty-two staircases. Mercer embedded tiles, inscriptions, and found objects throughout. The stairs shift direction, ceilings rise and fall, and windows frame fragments of landscape. Bill remarked on Mercer’s fascination with caves, castles, and literary imagery. That influence is evident in the building’s spatial unpredictability and whimsical turns.
 

Fonthill roofscape. The separate garage building (now the visitor center) is in the background.

Windows.

Fonthill's saloon (living room). Every one of the irregularly spaced columns is unique.

Section through a digital model of Fonthill. Click on the image to view an enlarged version. The complexity and level of detail evident in this section are remarkable. Big thanks to Jim Givens for allowing me to share this image here.

Now that I’ve been to all three of Mercer's buildings, I’ve thought again about Bill’s interest in them and their broader relevance to today’s architectural discourse: He clearly wasn’t asking us to emulate their forms; rather, he saw them as (pardon the pun) concrete expressions of personal conviction and lived experience. That was the takeaway. He noted their complexity and resistance to straightforward interpretation. In Bill’s words, each Mercer edifice emerges from “images, first recalled and then carefully developed, from his travels and studies . . . places real, and places imaginary.”

Bill recognized that an architect’s internal landscape—the memory, narrative, and inquiry it might encompass—can shape architectural form in ways that are both personal and coherent. Mercer drew inspiration from his extensive travels and the archaeological sites he explored. I certainly considered how his subjective preferences translated into the spatial and material decisions I experienced as I moved through each building. As Mercer did, we can all reflect upon our own memories, values, or narratives when designing. Such an approach can foster buildings that carry individual significance and sensory richness, shaped by our own story and those for whom we design.
 
Ultimately, I left Doylestown with impressions of buildings that resist easy interpretation but richly reward one’s attention. Mercer’s buildings don’t yield readily transferable design strategies. They resist reductive generalization, yet they epitomize what’s possible when architecture is inspired by memory and shaped by craft and conviction. The Mercer Museum, Moravian Pottery and Tile Works, and Fonthill each convey Henry Mercer’s personal inspiration, improvisation, and principles. That’s what Bill saw in them, and what I tried to keep in view at each site.