Henry Mercer's concrete castles instruct, inspire and amaze
by Susan Brimo-Cox
, Fonthill, as a castle may be a misnomer. There is no surrounding wall or moat to keep out the unruly peasants or faraway invaders. Nonetheless, Fonthill is so full of treasures — of every conceivable kind — that anything less than “castle” seems inappropriate.
When Mercer began planning his home in Doylestown, Pennsylvania, in 1907, he was 51 years old. This Pennsylvania native had attended Harvard, had traveled the world pursuing his life-long interests in archeology and history, and had accumulated significant collections of artifacts. He was a leading Arts and Crafts movement tile maker. And he was an avid fan of concrete.
 Concrete was Mercer’s building material of choice because it was easily formed, fireproof and inexpensive. It also combined well with his famous mosaic tiles.
Mercer’s design began with the rooms. After he imagined them, sketched them and made clay representations of them, he laid the clay blocks out on a table, set them together and, only then, finally considered the exterior of the home. A plaster of Paris model and his sketches served for blueprints throughout the construction 1908-1912.
Fonthill was built on top of an existing stone farmhouse — you can still see some of its walls — which was strategically situated on bedrock. Eight to 10 laborers, with little or no concrete experience, and a work-horse named Lucy (that was also paid a daily wage) completed the basic construction by October 1910.
No machinery was used in the construction — even the water was pumped and concrete mixed by hand.
 Frank Swain, Mercer’s archaeological assistant and manager of Mercer’s tile works, reports concrete was carried in boxes, which were carried to a lift operated by Lucy, “who knew just how far to go for the box to reach the platform… The horse just knew the timing necessary to release the full box and for the return of the empty one. Then she would back up to the point of starting, waiting for another trip without any command except for the start of the up trip.”
Arched ceilings were formed by erecting platforms of recycled lumber and boards, heaped with grass, weeds or hay. Earth was layered on top, then empty boxes, more earth and a layer of sand. If inlaid tiles were part of the design, they were placed face down in the sand, embedded just a bit. Wire mesh and pipes for reinforcement were then put in place and the concrete poured. When the platforms were dislodged and the earth and sand fell, the tiles remained in the ceilings.
Mercer’s goal was to decorate the construction, not construct decoration. His tiles are educational embellishments throughout the house — they tell stories. Varnish was brushed on the concrete between ceiling tiles to create a golden glow. He added dry paint pigments to dry cement before mixing to color concrete. Tar paper was burned to create a thin film of soot, which gave a patina of “age” to the new concrete. And aggregate and form molds also left their characteristics. Mercer was not ashamed of the “mark of the mold.” In fact, he relished them.
On May 29, 1912 — after the plumbing contractors, tile setters, carpenters and blacksmiths completed their work — Mercer moved into his home.
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