The rectory near the corner of Saratoga and Cathedral streets, known as the "parsonage on the hill," boasted the highest elevation in Baltimore when it was built in 1791. Its 18th century residents had a clear view of the harbor and not the slightest inkling that one day the grand home of the rector of St. Paul's Church would be dwarfed by towers of steel and edged by yards of cement and concrete.

"You know," says Stiles Colwill, partner in Colwill and McGehee, an antiques shop and design firm specializing in period restorations, "the really unique thing about this house is that it is still here, that it has managed to survive as a residence for nearly 200 years."

Its elegant neighbors have long gone. To the east, the John Hopkins mansion was torn down in the 1930s to make room for a parking lot. To the west, the A. S. Abell house was demolished in 1883 when Cathedral Street was created. In fact, fewer than 1 percent of the houses on the Baltimore City tax roll of 1798 still stand today.

But the rectory has remained, housing all but one of the nine succeeding rectors of St. Paul's Church since the Rev. Joseph Bend took up occupancy in 1791. Every so many years, additions and adaptations were incorporated as the house was molded to fit the needs of the assorted families who lived under its roof and to keep up with two centuries of changing fashions.

Then in 1986, the current rector of St. Paul's Church, the Rev. William McKeachie, moved his family to a more residential setting in northern Baltimore City, and the vestry of the church negotiated a 30-year lease with Preservation Maryland, a non-profit, statewide organization dedicated to historic architectural preservation. Preservation Maryland not only found a permanent home, but the rectory gained a benefactor devoted to restoring it both structurally and cosmetically.

Preservation Maryland created Friends of the Rectory, a board charged with overseeing the exterior and interior restoration of the house. The rectory was constructed -- probably without the benefit of an architect -- in a Georgian country house design most likely taken from pattern books of the late 1700s. But the building underwent major remodeling and renovation, including the addition of several rooms, from 1828 to 1829. The decision was made to keep the facade as it had been in 1791, but to restore the interior to the neoclassical style of the 1820s, a project that was completed in 1989.

"There were several reasons for this choice," says Whitney Forsyth, director of public affairs for Preservation Maryland. "First, the mantels and much of the original woodwork and trim had been replaced and updated during the 1829 renovation, so we decided to stick with what was here rather than regress back to 1791. Plus, there wasn't another example of a home designed with neoclassical interiors in Baltimore. Homewood has just been completed with 18th century interiors, and we didn't want to duplicate that. And we really didn't have the money to do anything that expensive," she adds.

As it was, even with furniture loans from the Maryland Historical Society, gifts from the Colonial Dames of America, Chapter 1, and private donations, the restoration cost about $900,000. That's about $898,000 more than funds raised by a lottery in 1789 to begin building the main house on a "half acre and 28 square pecks" of property donated to the vestry of St. Paul's Parish by Revolutionary War hero John Eager Howard. Howard had inherited 200 acres of land, of which this small parcel was a part, from his great grandfather George Eager, who bought the property in 1688 for 5,000 pounds of tobacco.

The house was built to make a statement, says Anne Neikirk, co-chairman with Virginia Mosis of the Junior League of Baltimore's Rectory Committee. Her group recently completed three years of researching the history of the building and creating a docent program. "After the Revolutionary War, the Episcopal Church was trying to shake off its ties to the Church of England and to compete with other local churches," she continues. "The vestry wanted to build a new church, but they didn't have the money. So, they decided to build a very distinguished rectory on a very prominent piece of land."

As prominent as the site was in 1791, Baltimoreans today often bustle right by the wrought-iron gates of the mansion, not looking up to gaze at the landscaped lawn and the lovely old brick facade with its second-floor 1791 Palladian window. "It's amazing how many people on the tour," says Ms. Neikirk, "say they never even knew the house was here."

Surprises also include the emerald green, royal blue, brilliant scarlet and citrus yellow colors that dominate the wallpapers and floor coverings of the interior design. The four first-floor rooms resonate in these vibrant hues, which were chosen, says Mr. Colwill, who as a board member was responsible for guiding the restoration of the rectory's interiors, "because they were very fashionable during the early 19th century."

The entrance hall, papered in a sunny English yellow stripe from the 1820s, makes up the T of the original 1791 design and opens, via a magnificent archway -- one of the few remaining features from the Federal period of the house -- to an octagonal stair tower with a winding, handcrafted stairway to the second floor.

The original pine floors are covered with two area carpets, designed with a crisscross pattern on an emerald green background. These carpets, like all those in the rectory, are based on designs found in the archives of a family in northern England. The colors are matched to specifications from point papers -- pattern designs much like those used in needlepoint -- of 1829.

All the furniture in the hall, like most of the furniture in the house, is neoclassical or Empire in style and was made in Baltimore during the 1820s and 1830s. Since the hall was often used for dining, several neoclassical side chairs, dating from 1815, line the walls, and a center table anchors the stair tower. A tall case clock, made by Baltimorean William Thompson, stands against one wall.

The library, where the family would gather to read, sew or write letters, was probably the most used room in the house. Today, it is decorated with a medallion-print wall-to-wall carpet accented with royal blue, cream, brown and orange, plus elaborate draperies of royal blue satin with a deep valence of citrus yellow and white sheers, tied back and secured with brass medallions. The wallpaper is a laurel wreath pattern with a small border, a typical device used during the 19th century to cover wallpaper tacks.

The most surprising piece of furniture in the library is a gaming or "loo" table made in 1815 by an unknown Baltimore furniture maker. Loo is an old card game, but the game most popular in the early 1800s was whist, which later evolved into bridge. Ms. Neikirk says that it was not inappropriate for a gaming table to be found in an Episcopal rectory during the 19th century, and in fact, dancing was sometimes held in the adjoining entrance hall.

The parlor, decorated with scarlet draperies trimmed in braid and wall-to-wall carpet patterned in tones of pink, brown and cream, was used for entertaining. Against one wall is an 1830s "piano forte" made by Lawrence Rickett of Baltimore. A Baltimore square-back sofa in scarlet, and four red-seated neoclassical chairs, reproduced by Potthast in the 1920s, line the walls.

The adjoining dining room was added during the extensive renovation of 1828-'29. "Actually," says Mr. Colwill, "dining rooms just weren't around until the early 1800s. Until that time, dining was really wherever there was enough light. And chandeliers were rarely seen. There is no chandelier in the dining room of the rectory."

There are some interesting pieces of furniture, including a marble-topped, mahogany pier table and a New York empire pedestal sideboard. The dining room table dates to 1815 and has thin legs carved to resemble reeds, a design typical of Baltimore furniture makers of the period.

While St. Paul's was not a poor parish, "some rectors would have probably lived more modestly," says Ms. Forsyth, "than the lifestyle depicted in the restored interiors of the rectory's rooms." And, in fact, the restoration does not attempt to duplicate how the rectors of the church decorated the house. "The rectory really is an interpretive representation of what an elegant Baltimore house of the 1820s might have looked like," she adds.

This elegance lends itself to a new function for the rectory: Its rooms are available for weddings, parties, cocktail receptions and all types of corporate function. But the historical importance the house has not fallen by the wayside. The Junior League has trained an 11-member docent group that provides free tours by appointment. In addition, they hold an open house every first Thursday as part of the Downtown Partnership's project to encourage city art galleries and stores to open that night for browsing and shopping.

While Preservation Maryland is currently managing the rectory, the vestry of St. Paul's Church, nearby at Charles and Saratoga streets, still holds the original deed, and the walls of the building are imbued with 200 years of church history and the lives of its rectors. "Without a doubt," says Ms. Neikirk, "there will always be a fondness in the hearts of St. Paul parishioners for the rectory."