The Colonial Architecture of Philadelphia

Perhaps the brick mansion most thoroughly representative of the type of Georgian country house, of which so many sprang up about Philadelphia from 1760 to 1770, is Port Royal House on Tacony Street between Church and Duncan streets35 in Frankford. This great square, hip-roofed structure with its quoined corners and projecting stone belt at the second-floor level; its surmounting belvedere, ornamental dormers and great chimney stacks; its central pediment springing from a heavy cornice above a projecting central portion of the façade in which are located a handsome Palladian window and characteristic Doric doorway; its large, ranging, twenty-four-paned windows with keyed stone lintels and blinds on the lower story, is in brick substantially what Mount Pleasant is in plastered stone, as will be seen in Chapter V. As in the latter, a broad central hall extends entirely through the house, and the staircase is located in a small side hall. The rooms throughout are large and contain excellent woodwork and chimney pieces.

Port Royal House was erected in 1762 by Edward Stiles, a wealthy merchant and shipowner, who like many others emigrated from Bermuda to the Bahama island of New Providence and thence to Philadelphia about the middle of the eighteenth century, to engage in American commerce. He was the great-grandson of John Stiles, one of the first settlers of Bermuda in 1635, and the son of Daniel Stiles, of Port Royal Parish, a vestryman and warden of Port Royal Church and a member of the Assembly of Bermuda in 1723. Commerce between the American colonies and Bermuda and the West Indies was extensive, and Stiles' business 36 prospered. He had a store in Front Street between Market and Arch streets, and a town house in Walnut Street between Third and Fourth streets. In summer, like other men of his station and affluence, he lived at his countryseat, surrounded by many slaves, on an extensive plantation in Oxford township, near Frankford, that he had purchased from the Waln family. To it he gave the name Port Royal after his birthplace in Bermuda.

To Edward Stiles in 1775 befell the opportunity to carry relief to the people of Bermuda, then in dire distress because their supplies from America had been cut off by the Non-Importation Agreement among the American colonies. In response to their petition to the Continental Congress, permission was granted to send Stiles' ship, the Sea Nymph (Samuel Stobel, master), laden with provisions to be paid for by the people of Bermuda either in gold or arms, ammunition, saltpeter, sulphur and fieldpieces.

During the occupation of Philadelphia by the British in 1777 and 1778, Frankford became the middle ground between the opposing armies and subject to the depredations of both. Port Royal House, like many other estates of the vicinity, was robbed of its fine furniture, horses, slaves and provisions.

Under the will of Edward Stiles his slaves were freed and educated at the expense of his estate.37 In 1853 the Lukens family bought Port Royal House and for several years a boarding school was conducted there. As the manufacturing about Frankford grew, the locality lost its desirability as a place of residence. The house was abandoned to chance tenants and allowed to fall into an exceedingly delapidated condition. The accompanying photograph, however, depicts enough of its former state to indicate that in its day it was among the best brick country residences of the vicinity.38

CHAPTER III

For the most part these were single-front houses, that is to say, the doorway was located to the right39 or left with two windows at one side, while on the stories above windows ranged with the doorway, making three windows across each story. There were exceptions, however, the so-called Morris house at Number 225 South Eighth Street being a notable example of a characteristic double-front house of the locality and period. They were gable-roof structures with high chimneys in the party walls, foreshortened, third-story windows and from one to three dormers piercing the roof.

At the end of the block the wall was often carried up above the ridge between a pair of chimneys and terminated in a horizontal line, imparting greater stability to the chimney construction and lending an air of distinction to the whole house, which was further enhanced by locating the entrance directly beneath in the end wall rather than in the side of the building. The famous old Wistar house at the southeast corner of Fourth and Locust streets is a case in point.

Pedimental dormers were the rule, sometimes with round-headed windows. Elaborate molded wood cornices were a feature, often with prominent, even hand-tooled modillions. Slightly projecting belts of brick courses, marble or other stone marked the floor levels, and keyed stone lintels were customary, although in some of the plainer houses the window frames were set between ordinary courses of brickwork, without decoration of any sort. Most of40 the windows had either six-or nine-paned upper and lower sashes with third-story windows foreshortened in various ways. There were paneled shutters at the first-story windows and often on the second story as well, although blinds were sometimes used on the second story and rarely on the third. The high, deeply recessed doorways, with engaged columns or fluted pilasters supporting handsome entablatures or pediments, and beautifully paneled doors, often with a semicircular fanlight above, were characteristic of most Philadelphia entrances. Before them, occupying part of the sidewalk, was a single broad stone step, or at times a stoop consisting of a flight of three or four steps with a simple wrought-iron handrail, sometimes on both sides, but often on only one side. Other common obstructions in the sidewalk were areaways at one or two basement windows and a rolling way with inclined double doors giving entrance from the street to the basement.

Many of these city residences were of almost palatial character, built by wealthy merchants and men in political life who thought it expedient to live near their wharves and countinghouses or within easy distance of the seats of city, provincial and later of national government. Beautiful gardens occupied the backyards of many such dwellings, affording veritable oases in a desert of bricks and mortar, yet many of the more affluent citizens41 maintained countryseats along the Schuylkill or elsewhere in addition to their town houses.

The location of many of these early city dwellings of brick was such that as the city grew they became undesirable as places of residence. Business encroached upon them more and more, so that, except for houses which have remained for generations in the same family or have historic interest sufficient to have brought about their preservation by the city, relatively few still remain in anything like their original condition. Of the quaint two-and three-story dwellings of modest though delightfully distinctive character, which once lined the narrow streets and alleys, most have become squalid tenements and small alien stores, or else have been utilized for commercial purposes. To walk through Combes Alley and Elfret Alley is to sense what once was and to realize the trend of the times, but there is much material for study in these rapidly decaying old sections that repay a visit by the architect and student.

Happily, however, one of these typical little streets is to be perpetuated in something like its pristine condition. Camac Street, "the street of little clubs", has become one of the unique features of the city,—a typically American "Latin Quarter." To enter this little, narrow, rough-paved alley, running south from Walnut Street between Twelfth and Thirteenth streets, is like stepping back a42 century or more. The squatty little two and a half story houses with picturesque doorways and dormer windows have become the homes of numerous clubs representing the best art interests of the city. Poor Richard Club, Plastic Club, Sketch Club, Coin d'Or and Franklin Inn are among the names to be seen painted on the signs beside the doors. The houses and their gardens in the rear have been restored and provide excellent club, exhibition and lecture rooms, at the same time preserving some fine examples of a rapidly passing type of early American architecture. Would that a similar course might be taken by local societies in every large American city where a wealth of Colonial architecture exists!

Among the fine old single-front houses of particular interest which have suffered through the encroachment of business upon the former residential sections of the city are the Blackwell house, Number 224 Pine Street, and the Wharton house, Number 336 Spruce Street.

The former was in many respects the most elegant residence in Philadelphia, built almost without regard to cost by a man of great wealth, whose taste and refinement called for luxurious living and a beautiful home. The interior woodwork surpassed in design and execution anything to be found elsewhere in the city. Many of the doorways had fluted pilasters, heavily molded casings and carved43 broken pediments. The doors were of mahogany as was likewise the wainscoting of the staircases. The sides of the rooms where fireplaces were located were completely paneled to the ceiling, and above the fireplace openings were narrow panels on which were hunting scenes done in mastic. Some years ago much of this beautiful woodwork was removed, and to-day, despoiled of its former architectural splendor, dingy and dilapidated, the shell of the building is used as a cigar factory.

The house was built about 1765 by John Stamper, a wealthy English merchant, who had been successively councilman, alderman and finally mayor of Philadelphia in 1759. He bought the whole south side of Pine Street from Second to Third from the Penns in 1761, and for many years the house was surrounded by a garden containing flowers, shrubs and fruit trees. Later the house passed into the hands of Stamper's son-in-law, William Bingham, Senior, and afterwards to Bingham's son-in-law, the Reverend Doctor Robert Blackwell.

Doctor Blackwell was the son of Colonel Jacob Blackwell, of New York, who owned extensive estates on Long Island along the East River, Blackwell's Island being included. After graduating from Princeton, Robert Blackwell studied first medicine and then theology. After several years of tutoring at Philipse Manor, he was ordained to the ministry and served the missions at Gloucester and44 St. Mary's, Colestown, New Jersey. When both congregations were scattered by the Revolution, he joined the Continental Army at Valley Forge as both chaplain and surgeon. In 1870 he married Hannah Bingham, whose considerable fortune, added to the estate of his father which he soon after inherited, made him the richest clergyman in America and one of the richest men in Philadelphia. The following year he was called to assist Doctor White, the rector of Christ Church and St. Peter's, and to the latter Doctor Blackwell chiefly devoted himself until his resignation in 1811 due to failing health. It was the services of these united parishes which Washington, his Cabinet and members of Congress attended frequently. On Doctor Blackwell's death in 1831 the house passed into the Willing family and has since changed owners many times.

The Wharton house, Number 336 Spruce Street, was built in 1796 by Samuel Pancoast, a house carpenter, who sold it to Mordecai Lewis, a prominent merchant in the East India trade, shipowner, importer and one-time partner of William Bingham, the brother-in-law of Doctor Blackwell, and whose palatial mansion in Third Street above Spruce was one of the most exclusive social centers of the city. Mordecai Lewis was a director of the Bank of North America, the Philadelphia Contributorship for the Insurance of Houses from Loss by Fire, the Philadelphia Library, and the treasurer of the Penn45sylvania Hospital. Much of the currency issued by the Continental Congress of 1776 bore his name. Although a member of the volunteer military company, he was never in active service.

Following his death in 1799 the house was sold by his executors in 1809 to his son, Samuel N. Lewis, also a successful merchant of great public spirit. In 1817 the younger Lewis sold the house to Samuel Fisher, another merchant and prominent Friend noted for his hospitality and his charity, especially toward negroes and Indians. Because of his neutrality during the Revolution, he was exiled to Virginia from 1777 until 1779, when he was arrested because of a business letter to his partner in New York which was regarded as antagonistic to the government. He was committed to the "Old Gaol", and after refusing bail was tried and because of the clamor of the mob was sentenced to imprisonment for the duration of the war. Soon afterward, however, a pardon was offered him, which he refused, and two years later he left prison by invitation without terms, his health broken. His wedding gift to his daughter, Deborah, on her marriage to William Wharton in 1817, was the Spruce Street house, which has ever since borne Wharton's name.

William Wharton was the son of Charles Wharton, who, with his wife, Hannah, devoted themselves to a religious life among the Friends. Deborah Wharton, William Wharton's wife, became a prominent46 minister of the Society of Friends, traveling extensively in the interests of Indian welfare and giving generously of her ample means to various philanthropic causes. She was one of the early managers of Swarthmore College, as has been a descendant in each generation of the family since that time. Of her ten children, Joseph Wharton, also a prominent Friend, was owner of the Bethlehem Steel Works and one of the most successful ironmasters in the country. A liberal philanthropist, he founded the Wharton School of Finance and Economy at the University of Pennsylvania and was for many years president of the board of managers of Swarthmore College. On his mother's death in 1888 the Spruce Street house came into his possession and is still owned by his estate. Although rented as a rooming house, it remains in a fair state of preservation.

The Wistar house, at the southwest corner of Fourth and Locust streets, to which architectural reference has previously been made, was built about 1750 and for nearly three quarters of a century thereafter was the scene of constant hospitality and lavish entertainment. Here lived Doctor William Shippen, whose marriage to Alice, the daughter of Thomas Lee, of Virginia, and the sister of Richard Henry and Arthur Lee, was one of the numerous alliances which drew the county families of Virginia and Maryland into close relationship with47 Philadelphia families. Doctor Shippen's home quickly became the resort of the Virginia aristocracy when visiting the national capital, and in consequence there was a constant succession of balls and dinners during the winter season.

In 1799 the house was occupied by Doctor Caspar Wistar, the eminent anatomist, known to the élite of the city and nation for his brilliant social gatherings and as the man for whom that beautiful climbing plant, the Wistaria, was named. Doctor Wistar's geniality, magnetism, intellectual leadership and generous hospitality made his home a gathering place for the most distinguished personages of his day in the professions, arts, sciences, letters and politics. Since he held a chair at the University of Pennsylvania and carried on an extensive private practice, the demands upon his time were great, but Sunday evenings, and later on Saturday evenings, he was at home to his friends, who formed the habit of calling regularly in numbers from ten to fifty and often bringing new-found friends, sure of a hearty welcome, brilliant conversation and choice refreshments. And so began one of the cherished institutions of Philadelphia, the Wistar Parties, which were continued after the doctor's death in 1818 by Wistar's friends and their descendants. The Civil War brought an interruption, but in 1886 the gatherings were again resumed; few of the distinguished visitors to the city failed to be48 invited to attend, and, having attended, to praise most highly the exceptional hospitality shown them. During Doctor Wistar's lifetime the personnel of the parties gradually became substantially the membership of that world-famous scientific organization, the Philosophical Society, and later membership in that society became requisite to eligibility for the Wistar Parties.

By far the handsomest old city residence of brick that remains in anything like its original condition is the so-called Morris house at Number 225 South Eighth Street between Walnut and Spruce streets. Although not built until very shortly after the struggle for American independence had been won, it is pre-Revolutionary in character and Colonial in style throughout. In elegance and distinction the façade is unexcelled in early American city architecture. Unlike most houses of the time and locality, it has a double front with two windows each side of a central doorway, a range of five windows on the second and third floors and three simple dormers in the gable roof above. The windows have twelve-paned upper and lower sashes with paneled shutters on the first and second stories, and foreshortened eight-paned upper and lower sashes without shutters on the third story.

The brickwork is of characteristic Flemish bond with alternating red stretcher and black header bricks. Two slightly projecting courses, two courses49 apart, form horizontal belts at the second-and third-floor levels, while the first thirteen courses above the sidewalk level project somewhat beyond the wall above and are laid up in running bond, every sixth course being a tie course of headers. Beautifully tooled, light stone lintels with fine-scale radial scorings greatly enhance the beauty of the fenestration. Each lintel appears to consist of seven gauged or keyed pieces each, but is in reality a single stone, the effect being secured by deep scorings. A heavy molded cornice and handsome gutter spouts complete the decorative features apart from the chaste pedimental doorway with its fluted pilasters and dainty fanlight, which is mentioned again in another chapter. A rolling way and areaways at the basement windows pierce the wall at the sidewalk level after the manner of the time. Indoors, the hall extends entirely through the house to a door in the rear opening upon a box-bordered garden with rose trees and old-fashioned flowers. There is a parlor on the right of the hall and a library on the left. Back of the latter is the dining room, while the kitchen and service portion of the house are located in an L extension to the rear.

As indicated by two marble date stones set in the third-story front wall just below the cornice, this house was begun in 1786 and finished in 1787 by John Reynolds. Some years later it was purchased at a sheriff's sale by Ann Dunkin, who sold it in50 1817 to Luke Wistar Morris, the son of Captain Samuel Morris. Since that time it has remained in the Morris family, and its occupants have maintained it in splendid condition. Much beautiful old furniture, silver and china adorn the interior, most of the pieces having individual histories of interest; in fact, the place has become a veritable museum of Morris and Wistar heirlooms. Within a few years the two old buildings that formerly adjoined the house to the right and left were removed so that the house now stands alone with a garden space at each side behind a handsome wrought-iron fence.

An enthusiastic horseman and sportsman, Samuel Morris was until his death in 1812 president of the Gloucester Fox Hunting Club in which originated in November, 1774, the Philadelphia Troop of Light Horse, better known as the City Troop, the oldest military organization in the United States. In 1775 Morris was a member of the Committee of Safety, and throughout the Revolution he served as captain of the City Troop and as a special agent for Washington, in whose esteem he stood high. Later he was a justice of the peace and a member of the Pennsylvania assembly from 1781 to 1783. A handsome china punch bowl presented to Captain Samuel Morris by the members of the Gloucester Fox Hunting Club is one of the most prized possessions in the Morris house.51

Any book devoted to the Colonial houses of Philadelphia might perhaps be considered incomplete that failed to include the quaint little two and a half story building at Number 229 Arch Street, with its tiny store on the street floor and dwelling on the floors above. Devoid of all architectural pretension and showing the decay of passing years, it is nevertheless typical of the modest shop and house of its day, and it interests the visitor still more as the home of Betsy Ross, who for many years was popularly supposed to have made the first American flag. Betsy Ross was the widow of John Ross, a nephew of one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, who had conducted an upholsterer's business in the little shop. For a time after his death she supported herself as a lace cleaner and by continuing the business of her husband.

The romantic tradition goes, unsupported by official record, that, Congress having voted in June, 1777, for a flag of thirteen stripes, alternate red and white, with thirteen white stars in a blue field, the committee in charge consulted with Washington, then in Philadelphia, concerning the matter. Knowing Mrs. Ross, Washington led the way to her house and explained their mission. In her little shop under their eyes she cut and stitched together cloths of the three colors we love so well and soon produced the first version of the Stars and Stripes.52

The tale is a pretty one, and it is a pity that it should not be based on some good foundation, especially as the records show that subsequently Betsy Ross did make numerous flags for the government. How the story started is unknown, but none of the historians who have given the matter any attention believe it. John H. Flow in "The True Story of the American Flag" condemns it utterly, and the United States Government refused to adopt the Betsy Ross house as a national monument after a thorough investigation. Notwithstanding the facts, however, this ancient little building still continues to be a place of interest to many tourists every year.

53

CHAPTER IV

Wherein lies the superlative picturesque appeal of the typical ledge stonework of Germantown? As distinguished from surfaced stonework, it possesses that flexibility in use so essential to the many and varied requirements of domestic architecture54 imposed by the personality and mode of living of the owner. In a measure this ready adaptability is due to the irregular lines and rock face of the stone itself, so pleasing in scale, color and texture, and so completely in harmony with the natural landscape. But to a far greater extent it is due to the fact that its predominant lines are horizontal, the line of repose and stability. Ledge stone, long and narrow, laid up in broken range, with the top and bottom beds approximately level, but with end joints as the stone works naturally, has an even more marked horizontal effect than brick, clap-boarded or shingled walls that tends to a surprising degree to simulate the impression of greater breadth of the entire mass.

Such matters as color, surface texture and the bond or pattern formed by the shape of the stones and their arrangement in the wall are the refinements of stonework; the essentials are strength and durability of the stone itself and stability of the wall. And this stability should be apparent as well as actual. The integrity of stonework depends upon its ability to stand alone, and nothing except high-cost surfaced stone is so readily conducive to handsome, honest masonry as the natural ledge stone of greater Philadelphia. A consistent wall should be of sound construction without the aid of mortar, the mission of which is to chink the joints and make the structure weather-tight.55

Many different examples of stonework, both the pointed and unpointed, stand virtually side by side for comparison about Philadelphia. Several methods of pointing have been employed. There is the flush pointing and the ridge or weathered type commonly known as Colonial or "barn" pointing. Of them all, however, a method of laying and pointing generally referred to as the Germantown type has been most widely favored. It lends itself particularly well to the Colonial style of house now so popular, the broad lines of the white pointing bringing the gray stone into pleasing harmony with the white woodwork.

The pointing itself is much like the Colonial or "barn" pointing already referred to,—the wide open joints being filled with mortar brought well to the surface of the stones and smoothed off by the flat of the trowel with little regard to definiteness of line, after which about one-fourth of the width of the pointing is cut sharply away at the bottom so as to leave a sloping weathered edge considerably below the center of the joint. This is sometimes left as cut, in order to preserve a difference in texture, or is gone over with a trowel, either free hand or along a straightedge, to give a more finished appearance or more pronounced horizontal line effect.

Generally gray in effect, a ledge-stone wall provides a delightful neutral background against which trellises of roses, wistaria, honeysuckle and other56 flowering climbers delight the eye, and to which the spreading English ivy clings in the most charming intimacy. White-painted woodwork, however, furnishes its prime embellishment,—doors, windows, porches, dormers and such necessary appurtenances of comfortable living punctuating its various parts with high lights which brighten the effect, balance the form and mass and lend distinctive character. One has but to examine the accompanying illustrations of a few notable homes of the Colonial period to appreciate the undeniable charm of white-painted woodwork in a setting of ledge stone.

In the midst of virgin forest at the end of Livezey's Lane in Germantown on the banks of Wissahickon Creek, stands Glen Fern, more commonly known as the Livezey house, with numerous old buildings near by which in years past were mills, granaries and cooper shops. The house is of typically picturesque ledge-stone construction and interesting arrangement, consisting of three adjoining gable-roof structures in diminishing order, each with a single shed-roof dormer in its roof. It is located on a garden terrace with ledge-stone embankment wall and steps leading up to the door, which originally had seats at each side, while a balcony above was reached by the door in the second story. Two and a half stories high and having a chimney at each end, the main house attracts attention chiefly for its quaint fenestration, with two windows on57 one side of the door and one on the other, the foreshortened twelve-paned windows of the second story placed well up under the eaves, the first-story windows having six-paned upper and nine-paned lower sashes. As usual, there are shutters for the first-and blinds for the second-story windows.

A winding stairway leads upward from a rather small hall. White-paneled wainscots and fireplaces surrounded by dark marble adorn each of the principal rooms, while the great kitchen fireplace, in an inglenook with a window beside a seat large enough to accommodate several persons, was the "courtin' corner" of three generations of the Livezey family.

The old grist mill on Wissahickon Creek, originally a considerable stream, was built by Thomas Shoemaker, and in 1747 conveyed by him to Thomas Livezey, Junior, who operated it the rest of his life and lived at Glen Fern near by. The builder's father, Jacob Shoemaker, who gave the land upon which the Germantown Friends' Meeting House stands at Coulter and Main streets, came to this country with Pastorius in the ship America in 1682 and became sheriff of the town in 1690. Thomas Livezey, the progenitor of the Livezey family, and the great-grandfather of Thomas, Junior, came from England in 1680, and the records show that he served on the first grand jury of the first court held in the province, January 2, 1681.

Thomas Livezey, Junior, the miller, was a public-spirited58 and many-sided man. Something of a wag and given to writing letters in verse, his life also had its more serious side. Besides being one of the founders and a trustee of the Union Schoolhouse of Germantown, now Germantown Academy, he was a justice of the peace and a provincial commissioner in 1765. Being a Friend, he took no part in the struggle for independence, although his provocation was great.

For safety's sake the girls of the family, with the eatables and drinkables, were often locked up in the cellars during the occupancy of Germantown by the British. On one occasion British soldiers came to the house and demanded food, and being told by one of the women that after cooking all day she was too weary to prepare it, one of the soldiers struck off the woman's ear with his sword. An officer appeared presently, however, demanded to know who had done so dastardly a thing and instantly split the culprit's head with his saber.

Livezey cultivated a large farm on the adjoining hillsides, and a dozen bottles of wine from his vineyard, forwarded by his friend Robert Wharton, elicited praise from Benjamin Franklin.

Farmers brought their grain hither for miles around, and the mill prospered. Gradually a large West Indian trade was built up in flour contaminated with garlic and unmarketable in Philadelphia, the ships returning with silk, crêpes and beautiful china,59 so that Livezey's son John became a prominent Philadelphia merchant. Another son, Thomas, continued to run the mill, which about the time of the Civil War was converted to the manufacture of linseed oil. In 1869 the entire property was purchased for Fairmount Park, and Glen Fern is now occupied by the Valley Green Canoe Club, which has restored it under the direction of John Livezey.

Opposite the famous Chew house on Germantown Avenue, amid a luxurious setting of splendid trees, clinging ivy and box-bordered gardens, stands Upsala, one of the finest examples of the Colonial architecture of Philadelphia. A great, square two and a half story house with a gable roof, three handsome dormers in front, a goodly sized chimney toward either end, and an L in the rear, it speaks eloquently of substantial comfort. Like many houses of the time and place, the façade is of faced stone carefully pointed, while the other walls are of exceptionally pleasing ledge stone, the two kinds of masonry being quoined together at the corners.

The pointing of the stonework is a very informal variation of the modern Germantown type,—flat-trowel pointed with little regard to definiteness of line. The wide joints are more appropriate in scale and taste than the ridge or weathered type, in that they harmonize better with the generally broad effect of the house and the white-painted wood trim of numerous windows and doors.60

Keyed lintels and window sills of marble accentuate the fenestration, and the façade is further enriched by a handsome cornice and marble belt at the second-floor level. Four marble steps give approach to the high, pedimental porch before a door of delightful grace and dignity. As was often the case, there are white-painted shutters at the lower windows and green-painted blinds at the upper.

The gable ends of the house are interesting in their fenestration, with a fanlight of delightful pattern above and between two ordinary windows; one notices with interest that the returns of the eaves are carried entirely across the ends of the house from front to back, after the manner of the characteristic penthouse roof.

Within, a broad hall extends through the house, an archway at the foot of the winding staircase being its most striking feature. Two rooms on each side contain handsome mantels, paneled wainscots and other beautiful wood finish.

As indicated by the date stone in one of the gables, Upsala was begun in 1798 by John Johnson, Junior, who inherited the land from his grandfather, also named John Johnson, and was some three years in the building. It is located near the corner of Upsal Street on part of a tract of land that originally extended from Germantown Avenue, then Germantown Road, to the township line at Wissahickon Avenue. The house stands on the spot61 where the Fortieth Regiment of the British Army was encamped, and where later General Maxwell's cannon were planted to assail the Chew house at the Battle of Germantown. It has been successively occupied by Norton Johnson, Doctor William N. Johnson and Miss Sallie W. Johnson, all descendants of the builder.

Like Upsala, Grumblethorpe, at Number 526 Main Street, Germantown, opposite Indian Queen Lane, displays ledge-stone walls except for its façade, which is plastered, and it has the same returns of the eaves like a penthouse roof across the gables. This large two and a half story house stands directly on the sidewalk and has areaways at the sunken basement windows like many modern houses. A sturdy chimney at either end and two dormers with segmental topped windows are the features of the roof. The high recessed doorway, with its broad marble lower step in the brick sidewalk, is located so that there are three windows to the left and only two to the right. An interesting feature of the fenestration is the use of wide twelve-paned windows on the first story and of narrower and higher eighteen-paned windows on the second. Again there are shutters on the lower story and blinds above. This variation in the windows of different stories is by no means an uncommon feature of Philadelphia houses, and, as in this instance, often came about as the result of alterations.62

Grumblethorpe was built in 1744 by John Wister, who came to Philadelphia from Germany in 1727 and developed a large business in cultivating blackberries, making and importing wine in Market Street west of Third. "Wister's Big House" was the first countryseat in Germantown. Originally it differed materially from its present outward appearance. There were no dormers, and the garret was lighted only at the ends. Across the front and sides of the house the second-floor level was marked by a penthouse roof, broken over the entrance by a balcony reached by a door from the second story. To the right of the entrance there were two windows, as at present; to the left there was a smaller door with a window at each side of it. Both doors were divided into upper and lower sections and had side-long seats outside. In the course of repairs and alterations in 1808 the penthouse roof and balcony, also the front seats, were removed, the upper and smaller lower doors were replaced by windows, and the front of the house was pebble dashed.

A long wing extends back from the main house, and beyond is a workshop with many old tools and a numerous collection of interesting clocks in various stages of completion. Still farther back is an observatory with its telescope, also a box-bordered formal garden in which still stands a quaint rain gauge. Indoors, the hall and principal rooms are spacious but low studded, with simple white-painted 63 woodwork, and in the kitchen a primitive crane supporting ancient iron pots still remains in the great fireplace. Much fine old furniture, many rare books and numerous curios enhance the interest and beauty of the interiors.

Many men illustrious in art, science and literature shared Wister's hospitality. His frequent visitors included Gilbert Stuart, the artist; Christopher Sower, one of the most versatile men in the colonies; Thomas Say, the eminent entomologist and president of the Philadelphia Academy of Natural Sciences; Parker Cleveland, author of the first book on American mineralogy; James Nichol, the celebrated geologist and writer, and many other famous personages. Quite as many unknown persons came to Grumblethorpe, however, for bread was baked every Saturday for distribution to the poor.

During the Battle of Germantown, Grumblethorpe was the headquarters of General Agnew of the British Army, and in the northwest parlor he died of wounds, staining the floor with his blood, the marks of which are still visible. In the same room Major Lenox, who occupied the house in 1779, was married. Major Lenox was at various times marshal of the United States for the District of Pennsylvania, director and president of the United States Bank, and the representative of the United States at the Court of St. James.

John Wister's eldest son, Daniel, a prosperous 64 merchant, inherited the property, and it was his daughter who wrote Sally Wister's well-known and charming "Journal", the original manuscript of which is among the many treasures of this charming old house.

It was Daniel Wister's son, Charles J. Wister, who built the observatory and developed the beautiful formal garden back of the house. Upon retiring from business in 1819 he devoted himself to science, notably botany and mineralogy, upon which subjects he lectured at the Germantown Academy, of which he was secretary of the board of trustees for thirty years.

In 1865 the place came into the hands of Charles J. Wister, Junior, an artist, writer and Friend of high repute, who, like his father, was for many years identified with Germantown Academy. On his death in 1910 Grumblethorpe was shared by his nephews, Owen Wister, the novelist, and Alexander W. Wister, neither of whom resides there.