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Lenox

American

Summer

Resorts

The North Shore. By Robert
Grant.
With Illustrations by W. T. Smed-
ley.

Newport. By W. C. Brownell.
With Illustrations by W. S. Van-
derbilt Allen.

Bar Harbor. By F. Marion Craw-
ford.
With Illustrations by C. S. Rein-
hart.

Lenox. By George A. Hibbard.

With Illustrations by W. S. Van-
derbilt Allen.

*^* Each nmo. Cloth. Price, 75 cents

One of the Drives

V /^

AMERICAN SUMMER RESORTS

<^\j

LENOX

BY

GEORGE A. HIBBARD

ILLUSTRATED BY

W. S. VANDERBILT ALLEN

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

NEW YORK MDCCCXCVI

V

Copyright, i8q4, l8qb, by
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

LSI M5

Page

One of the Drives .

Frontispiece

Sedgwick Hall

• 5

Congregational Churchy Lenox

• 9

A Court-yard

• 13

One of the « Places "

• n

A Model Farm Building

. 21

Forming the Flower Parade

• 27

Boating on Stockbridge Bowl

• 33

Curtis' }s ....

• 39

The Post-office, Sunday Morning's

Mail

• 45

The Episcopal Church

• 5i

M272151

LENOX

THAT artless lady who has been
known to the world for such a
long time because of her famous wonder
as to how it happened that large rivers
always ran past large towns, and who com-
mented favorably upon such an advan-
tageous arrangement of things, might have
wondered as to the " why " of Lenox.
She might have wondered, perhaps, but it
would almost seem that, in this case, in
spite of her engaging intellectual misad-
justments, she must have put the horse
before the cart, and announced that Lenox
" was " for the simple reason that nature
had fitted it so to be. Granted literally
the " premises," the hills and the lakes,
and the place that has grown up, is, as it
were, an inevitable logical conclusion.

Lenox There are many who do not care for the
mountains, and there are many who do
not willingly seek the sea, and to these
Lenox offers a perfect mean.

There is a number of other reasons for
the continuance and the permanence of Le-
nox, but it is safe to say that its " first
cause " was, or that its " first causes "
were, the changing country, the woods
with the frequent, fragrant clumps of pine,
and the sky across which the clouds drifted
so serenely day after day. Of Newport,
of Bar Harbor, of the North Shore,
and of Lenox, the last is the only one
without the sea, and this, of course, is
the chief characteristic in which it differs
from the others, and, with such a difference,
the dissimilarity must be very great.
Where the sea is there is unrest, and at
all the others it is impossible to escape
the consciousness of the ever-changing,
all-absorbing ocean. But at Lenox that
disturbing element is wholly absent, and
there is, above all else, a sense of peace
and calm that is missing at the first three.

Indeed, it may be written that the first and Lenox
the lasting impression made by Lenox is
one of quietness and rest, and there are
other reasons for this besides the -absence
of the luring and troubling waste of waters.
Lenox, almost more than any of the
other three places, seems to have the air of
having always <c been." Newport may be
as old, but the Newport that is now
known — the characteristic Newport —
seems much newer, for Lenox in some
mysterious way has gathered up some-
thing of the old life, and has carried it on
and made it a part of the new, and this
feeling of continuation certainly tends to
make it the reposeful abiding place it is.
Lenox, as Mr. Henry James says in his
" Life of Hawthorne," has " suffered the
process of lionization," but it has more
gently or more skillfully shaded into what
it is now than the rest which have left
more behind. One does not think of it
as having been " discovered " as Bar Har-
bor was discovered, well within the mem-
ory of even the middle-aged diner-out.

3

Lenox Society was represented, and gracefully
represented, at Lenox, years ago in many
a great, white, elm-shaded house. It
seems that there never can have been any-
thing crude about it at any time. The
famous Bar Harbor story of the " summer
boarder" who asked his landlord if he
should put his boots outside his door, and
was promptly informed that there was not
the slightest danger that " anybody would
tech 'em," is a tale that could never con-
ceivably have been told of Lenox.

The Berkshire seems always to have
been civilized, and indeed it is an old
country. The ancient houses and the
good roads prove this — those good Berk-
shire roads to which we Americans can
always turn with assurance, when taunted
by our English friends — as our English
friends will sometimes taunt us — with the
condition of our common highways. And
indeed these Lenox roads are blessings
that must be appreciated by anyone who
has driven much in other parts of the
country. The relief that is afforded by

Sedgwick
Hall

the knowledge that before him lie miles Lenox
of firm, sure ways, is very comfortable, and
freedom from constant thought of his
horses, enables him to enjoy the more
fully the glorious country that rolls about
him. And what a land it is ! It would
seem that no fault could be found with the
Berkshire scenery, and the only fault ever
found with it that came within the notice
of the writer, was one of surfeit rather than
of any lack of satisfaction. But if there is
any difficulty with the Berkshire landscape,
it is in the number of its brooks. Two,
three, or half a dozen are all very well,
but when, in effect, they seem endless, and
everyone apparently more delightful than
the others, it is different. You start into
quick enthusiasm at the sight of the first,
tumbling clear and cool over its rocky bed
— here in quiet pools catching reflected
gleams of color — there breaking over
scattered rocks into flaky foam. You are
charmed by the second and decidedly
interested in the third. But you cannot
keep it up. Power of admiration is al-

Lenox most lost and your superlatives quite ex-
hausted. There was once upon a time, an
impressionable but easily wearied mortal,
who was heard to remark, after he had
been taken for a Berkshire drive, that he
was cf blast on brooks."

But though the Berkshires are often
called, in a general way, Lenox, still
Lenox is by no manner of means the
Berkshires. Lenox is something quite
separate and independent and different.
It is a distinct locality and the centre of
the life round about. Lenox was a place
of considerable importance before it be-
came a place of great importance, but of
an importance of a different kind. It was
a very distinguished, self-respecting New
England village before it became the
"smart" place, with more or less " swag-
ger " attributes, that it is to-day. The
traditions, however, of its former state
still abide, and influence and color its
present condition. The Congregational
Church was a good deal of a building for
the New England of the latter part of the

^ma^mmM^m

wa>ss Stttit-fn

last century, though it is a " far cry " from Lenox
it to the latest palace-cottage ; but the
older still exists, at least holds its own,
and will not be put down. Indeed.it may
be said that Lenox — the village — is old,
and that what is new, lies, for the most
part, about it. Along the wide main
street there are many houses in which
dwell the temporary sojourners ; but they
are almost all of an earlier date, or have
been made over to fit modern require-
ments.

When approaching from the north, as
the visitor generally approaches Lertox, it
it is only after he has driven through the
wide main street, after the actual village
is passed, that there comes the first full
realization of all that has made the place
what it is. There may have been glimpses
along the Pittsfield road of roofs and por-
ticos, but nothing to give any idea of the
glories to follow. The chief memory of
this approach to Lenox will be of a gate-
way standing at the beginning of a grass-
grown drive that turns aside from the main

Lenox highway. There are flanking supports
against which the weeds bend and over
which the boughs droop, and through the
iron traceries of the gate itself there appears
a dark verdancy that is melancholy and
impressive. It is a gateway that offers
great suggestion of possible romance.
The imagination may wander through it
into all sorts of things, and if it has no
history it ought to have one, and anybody
who has been properly brought up upon
solid English fiction of the country-family
sort, with lots of ghosts in it, will at once
proceed to make one after his own heart.
But this gateway is almost all that is in
the least unkempt about Lenox, and it is
perhaps for this reason that it has hung,
as the writer has discovered, in the mem-
ories of many others besides himself.

All in Lenox is tended, trim, and tidy.
The usual neatness of a New England
village is apparent everywhere, and more
too, for there are park-like innovations in
the way of care that are lacking in many
other Massachusetts townlets. And this

m

Court-yard

guarded regard for appearance is still an- Le»o*
other thing that gives Lenox its air of re-
pose, to come back to the quality to which
one must be always returning who speaks
of Lenox at all. There are other streets
than the one main street — streets running
from it at various slanting angles, and on
some of them the first country houses
begin. But it is when you go a little
farther into the open toward the south and
west that the largest " places " are to be
found. And large is the word that best
describes them. They are large — larger
in reality or in seeming, than the other
" villas " of other places. Great structures
they are, of wood and of stone, ornate and
severe, Queen Anne — although Queen
Anne may at last be said to be dead —
colonial and, so to speak, composite — re-
miniscent, but all of them evidently pearls
of price, and many the results of an im-
mense expenditure. Crassus is under-
stood to have said with a fine scorn, that
he alone could be called rich who could
support an army ; but for practical modern
15

Lenox purposes the construction and mainten-
ance of one of these great Lenox abodes
might well be taken by the richest of the
Romans as a test, and even as a rather
severe standard of wealth. There are not
only two or three, but there is a consider-
able number of them, and that number is
growing every year. The land which
once was valued for its possibilities in
raising potatoes, holds quite a different
price when its worth is determined by its
adaptability for raising palaces. There
are strange stories of the sudden apprecia-
tion in price of old farms all through this
part of the country, but there are no more
marvellous tales told anywhere than those
recounted of the advance of Lenox real
estate. Tens have been used as multi-
pliers, and now almost all the best land is
"out of the market."

There are two lakes — the Stockbridge
Bowl, or Lake Mackeenac, and Laurel
Lake — about which the country houses
are chiefly gathered ; but it is on the east
side of the Bowl, and up and down and

16

One

of the
"Places

around its ends, that perhaps the largest Lenox
and finest are to be found. There are
others between the Bowl and Laurel Lake,
and all around the latter, but then there
are country houses everywhere in this
land — on nearly every good spot, and
sometimes, so anxious are people for
" places/' on spots that are not so good.
The new-comer is shown these, one after
another, with the mention of some familiar
contemporaneous name, and gradually he
becomes very much mixed up, or else the
houses do, and, in retrospect, he sees
vague conglomerate shapes never dreamt
of by any respectable architect, or, if so
dreamt, then in a nightmare in which the
porte cochere of one millionaire is put upon
the spreading wing of another, and the
stack of chimneys from the dwelling of
this magnate upon the sloping roofs of
that. He asks is this the place of So-
and-So only to be told that it is the cot-
tage of Some-One-Else, and it requires
days before he can get them sorted out.
Then how proud he is, and how glibly,
J9

Lenox by way of testing his information, he
hastens to inform his informant, with
still a slight questioning inflection, it is
true, but with almost a tone of proprietor-
ship.

But in connection with " places," there
is one experience that is peculiar and in a
measure significant. It is very distinctly
within the memory of the writer that, hav-
ing been driven, one gray afternoon, along
miles of road that lie around and among
the well-kept grounds that surround many
a great country house, and after having
had these costly structures, as it were, pa-
raded before his eyes, he was driven along
a road that ran upon the crest of a hill, on
one side of which were fields that extended
down a sharp declivity. Between the
fence and the beginning of the descent
there was a small plateau, on which the
weeds waved in the freshening evening
breeze. There, in the field, was what at
first appeared hardly more than a some-
what pronounced inequality in the ground.
It was only upon looking more closely
20

A Model

Farm

Building

that it was possible to discover a number z*«°*
of stones arranged in what seemed irregu-
lar heaps. They were moss-covered, and
the grass had grown up so tall and thick
that they could hardly be distinguished at
all. " That was Hawthorne's house," he
was told. It was noticeable that the in-
terest with which this ragged remnant of
an abode was indicated, differed but little
in its expression from the manner and tone
with which some great villa had been
brought to notice. And, indeed, that sad
little cairn is one of the " show places " of
Lenox, as much as any proud residence
on the shore of either lake. It may be
that this is because of our pathetic Amer-
ican craving for anything picturesque —
that feeling that leads us to make the most
of the slightest Revolutionary relic, and
feel the pulse of our emotions as we gaze
upon any vestige of a scarcely vanished
past. It may be because of this, but it is
true that even in this so-called materialis-
tic age, and in this place where materialism
may be said to offer one of its finest and
*3

Lenox most luxurious displays, the remains of
the " small red house " are, and long will
be, distinguishable and distinguished.

Hawthorne came to Lenox in 1850,
and remained there only until the autumn
of 1 85 1, and there is hardly anything of
the charm of age, or long continuance in
place, to give his presence there its still
abiding influence. But he lived there ;
there wrote " The House of the Seven
Gables/' and there imparted to the place
an enduring interest that has something
of the charm peculiar to himself. Fred-
rika Bremer, writing from the New World,
and from Lenox at the time when the
Hawthornes were there, speaks of the
prospect from the small dwelling : " Im-
mediately in front of Hawthorne's house
lies one of those small, clear lakes, with its
sombre margin of forest which characterize
this district, and Hawthorne seems greatly
to enjoy the view of it and the wildly
wooded country." She adds, after spend-
ing an evening at the house : " His amia-
ble wife is inexpressibly happy to see him
24

so happy here. A smile, a word, conveys Lenox
more to her than long speeches from other
people. She reads his very soul, — and
c he is the best of husbands.' "

It was about 1833 that Mrs. Kemble
brought herself and her fame to the Berk-
shires, and became very directly associated
with Lenox in the minds of all. She came
there first for a visit — and she stayed, off
and on, for thirty years — stayed on as
many another has stayed, who at first had
no such intention.

Mrs. Kemble always felt about Lenox
very strongly, and wrote about it very
warmly. Again, to quote Mr. James, al-
though the words are not from the book
mentioned before : " Late in life she
looked upon this region as an Arcadia, a
happy valley, a land of woods and waters
and upright souls." A description that
she has given conveys an excellent idea of
a characteristic Lenox scene. Writing
from New York in 1838, she says : " Im-
mediately sloping before me, the green
hillside, on the summit of which stands
*5

Lenox the house I am inhabiting, sinks softly
down to a small valley filled with a rich,
thick wood, in the centre of which a little
jewel-like lake lies dreaming. Beyond this
valley the hills rise one above another to
the horizon, where they scoop the sky
with a broken, irregular outline, that the
eye dwells on with ever new delight, as its
colors glow and vary with the ascending or
descending sunlight and all the shadowy
procession of the clouds. In one direc-
tion, this undulating line of distance is
overtopped by a considerable mountain,
with a fine jagged crest, and ever since
early morning troops of clouds, and wan-
dering showers of rain, and the all-prevail-
ing sunbeams have chased each other over
the wooded slopes, and down into the
dark hollow where the lake lies sleeping,
making a pageant far finer than the one
Prospero raised for Ferdinand and Mi-
randa on his desert island."

There are drives about Lenox — drives
without end and in all directions, but there
is no M drive." That is, there is no place
26

where " society " gathers with its equi- Lenox
pages, for purposes of display, and where
is held, as is so often the case in other
places all the world over, a sort of informal
" dress parade." There is no spot where
you can go with the absolute certainty of
seeing " every one," or where you can as-
certain from day to day how " everybody"
is looking, or who happens to be with
whom — or who doesn't. In localities
where society gathers there is usually such
a " drive," and a daily appearance in it is
something of a necessity, but Lenox does
not seem to suffer from the lack of it.

There is a great deal of driving, but it
is done all over, for there is no direction
in which there are not good roads, and
hardly one where there are not good
views. You may meet the smartest sort
of a trap spinning along through some se-
cluded wood, or making its way over the
spur of some remote hill. There are all
kinds of vehicles, from the most stately
coach to the tiniest village cart in which
children drive a pony hardly larger than a
29

Lenox dog and quite as reliable ; and it is safe to
say that driving rather than riding is the
feature of the place. There is a great deal
of riding, but it is rather of the park order,
and not of that steady, business-like, soul-
absorbing sort that is to be found where
more " cross-country " work is possible.
With the broken and often precipitous
nature of the land there is little chance for
" P°PPmg " over a fence and having a run
on the grass, and equestrians generally
keep sedately along the roads. This con-
dition of things naturally has for result the
displacement of " horse " from the proud
and commanding position it generally
holds as a subject for conversation. You
do talk horse and you do hear horse
talked at Lenox, for where now, even if
one so desired, is it possible to escape it ?
But it is not with the detail and variety
and vigor with which the subject is treated
at Hempstead, say, or in the Genesee Val-
ley— or even at Newport.

And just as there is no particularly
recognized " drive " in which society must
30

show itself, so there seems to be no speci- Lenox
fled " hour " at which the display should
come off. Society may be found abroad,
as it may be everywhere else, in the after-
noon— in the late afternoon — but there is
no compulsion about this, and " all
Lenox " is rarely seen together anywhere
or at any time. One must not forget,
however, one manifestation of " horse " —
although " horse " is subordinate — that is
or was quite peculiar to Lenox. Its an-
nual "Flower Parade" has been tried else-
where but with what was only a very mild
success when it was not a dismal failure.
At Lenox there seem to have been some
constituent qualities that have enabled this
ceremony literally to flourish for a number
of years, although now it certainly shows
signs of a declining vogue.

There is a great deal of walking, for the
country is most admirably fitted for it, and
the grounds of the greater number of the
big places are not forbidden to the world.
It is very pleasant to stroll leisurely along
the spring floor of yielding needles under
31

Lenox the spreading pine-woods, and to breathe
the cool, aromatic air ; and it is very
pleasant, when you have convinced your-
self that you are tired, to sit upon some
stone about which the moss has disposed
itself with wonderful effectiveness, and
watch one of the multitudinous brown
brooks go tumbling past. But this is not
the walking in which the enthusiasts
usually indulge. They are off for tramps
" over the hills and far away," and talk of
miles covered and the number of minutes
in which they have been done.

It formerly could have been said that,
on the water, Lenox did not disport itself
at all. The larger of the Lakes — the
Stockbridge Bowl — is not really large
enough for sailing, and it was seldom that
even a rowboat was seen upon it. Of
course people went upon the lakes, but it
was not a practice that formed an essen-
tial part of the Lenox life. The creation
of the Mackeenac Boat Club and the erec-
tion of the boathouse are quite recent
affairs. Now there is much more done in

3*

Boating on
Stockbridge
Bowl

the way of boating than there once was, Lemx
but, still, Lenox cannot be said to be
aquatic.

The peculiar time of the " Lenox sea-
son," in great measure, prescribes the con-
ditions of its life. The people who have
gone to Europe in May, returned in July
for a stay at Bar Harbor that may extend
into the first week of August, and then
have hurried on to Newport, generally
bring up in Lenox in late September and
early October. That is the proper man-
ner in which to end the summer ; and, as
everyone knows, Lenox in the early
autumn is at its gayest. Much happens
during the earlier months, and there are
very many charming people there who do
delightful things, but it is in September
and October that the cc crowd " comes and
every one " rushes " more or less madly
for a short time. All the resources ot
society are drawn upon to the utmost and
all its powers put in play. Then there
are teas and dinners and small dances and
large balls, as well as all the miscellaneous
35

Lenox amusements of the gay world, from pic-
nics to private theatricals. In October it
is no longer summer, and there is much
that is not done outdoors. Indeed, there
is more indoor entertainment than out in
Lenox in the season, and with the early
evenings you drive to a dinner with some-
thing of the feeling of the town.

There are often rainy days, and what
days they are in a huge country-house,
with a large and active house-party ! The
rain beats against the panes, but it beats
a lively tattoo for mustering jollity. There
is laughter indoors and there are many
devices for passing the time. A house-
party is the mother of invention, and the
schemes that can be devised by a dozen
bright young people, thrown together for
even a short time, are very various. There
are games and " parlor tricks " without
end, and always those skirmishings of boy
or girl, or man and woman, that happens
just now in the English language to be
called " flirtation " — not such a very old
word, and one at the making of which
36

Lord Chesterfield says he assisted person- Lenox
ally, as it " dropped from the most beau-
tiful mouth in the world " — the mouth,
it may be presumed, of " beautiful Molly
Lepell."

" House-parties " are not confined, it is
true, to Lenox, but the great size of the
houses there makes them very common
and very constant, and it was at Lenox, as
much, if not more than anywhere else,
that the practice of bringing a lot of peo-
ple under the same roof, — a practice taken
from the other side, and with the changing
conditions of American society now accli-
matized or naturalized — at first found fit-
ting opportunity for introduction.

As Lenox has no prescribed " drive "
nor " hour," so it has no central and ac-
knowledged gathering place. It has no
Casino and no Kebo Valley Club. But
such places are not really needed. In
Lenox the season is much shorter than at
either Newport or Bar Harbor, and the
time is well filled up with private enter-
tainments. Indeed, it is sometimes rather

37

Lenox too well filled up, and the pleasure of see-
ing the place must be foregone for the de-
lights of seeing the people. It is often
very gay, the people seem anxious to
make the best of what must be the last of
the country before they " go to town."

The question of " cottage " life or "ho-
tel " life has never agitated Lenox, because
of a rather peculiar condition of affairs.
The huge caravansaries that are continu-
ally springing up elsewhere have never
appeared here. There is one hotel and
only one — and this, in great measure, is an
institution, and has become an important
part of Lenox. Its fame is not by any
means local. "Curtis's" is known not only
in this country but has been mentioned in
others. It is a big, old structure rising
on the main street at the very centre of
things, across the way from its only possi-
ble rival in general consideration, the post-
office, of which more must be said presently.
Of late years it has received an addition —
a wing in which is the dining-room ; and
there may be found at the breakfast hour
38

Curtis' s

many who are well known in clubland and Lenox
ballroomdom. There, are single men, the
" overflow of house-parties,'' and there,
are the heads of families living in cottages
rented near by, who come to the hotel for
the meals of the day, which generally are
not supplied with the houses. And there,
are matrons and maids and fresh young
children who would certainly disprove the
objection to their kind made long ago by
the Germans, that they never satisfy the
aesthetic. There are generally to be found,
as the season draws toward its close, the
emissaries of other countries who have
been the rounds and who are now com-
pleting the summer before returning to
Washington.

Almost every one whom " one knows"
has been there ; and it is curious to bring
" Curtis's " to the recollection of some
woman no longer young and to see how
quickly the name vivifies many glimmer-
ing memories. It was there that Such
and Such a one was first met, and such
and such a thing was once done ; and, if
41

Lenox you will seek a little farther, you may find
that the spot is dear to her for other
memories, and that as often as not some
love-affair has been played out about and
within those walls of which she still thinks
tenderly. It is difficult not to be personal,
and in this one case it is perhaps permis-
sible to be so. The host has so much to
do with the fame of the hostelry, that as
a public character, it may be possible to
speak of him without too great indiscre-
tion. It was once the fortune of the
writer to assist at an interview between a
very celebrated and distinguished person-
age indeed and the potentate of Curtis's,
and surely, the graciousness of royalty was
never better manifestsd than in the meet-
ing of these powers.

Across the street, or, more accurately,
at an angle on a near corner, stands, as
has been said, the only real competitor of
" Curtis's" for popular consideration. It
also is an " institution," and holds a po-
sition of singular importance. There,
sooner or later, you seem always to "bring
42

up," and twice and even thrice in a day Lenox
you may find yourself at this point of in-
terest. Every one goes there, and there,
at one time or another between morning
and evening, you may be pretty sure of
meeting every one you know. The char-
acter of a "post-office " is really lost, and
the place has become almost a resort of
society. If it be quite safe to say so, it
partakes of the nature of a " social ex-
change/' and is a cross between a " Ca-
sino " and, in its informality of access and
general sociability, of the " country store."
One who once tarried in Lenox — after
having been taken to the post-office three
times in one day where he saw many part-
ings and meetings and heard many matters
thoroughly discussed — was heard to re-
mark that he considered the office of post-
master in Lenox the most desirable social
position in the United States, and an-
nounced his intention, as he was naturally
of a gregarious disposition, of immediately
applying for the position.

It is at Sunday noon that the post-office

43

Lenox appears in all its glory. When church is
over, the greater number of worshippers
seem to turn in the direction of the small
low building on the corner ; and so large
is the throng making way thither that, at
Lenox, there really is a regular weekly
"church parade." On the sidewalk, be-
fore the mail is opened, and while it is
being distributed, there is often quite a
crowd, and conversation is most lively and
interesting. There, you may hear all that
has been and much that is going to be,
and from this informal congress you may
come away a thoroughly informed person,
wholly supplied with all the knowledge
that will be necessary for use in the social
world for the following week at least.
There are other centres in other places
that may be of equal consequence in the
life of those dwelling in them, but in
Lenox it is safe to say that all roads lead
to the post-office, and that it has a focal
value that is not often found.

There is a club at Lenox, a regular
"man's" club ; and it is a very delightful,

44

The

Post-office,
Sunday
Morning's
Mail

although not a very large affair. You go Lenox
to it and hear of it, but there is a quiet-
ness about it that gives it a charm that
many clubs lack. The spirit of Lenox
life seems even to have influenced it, and
there you find a dignified seclusion and a
leisurely restfulness that, to say the least,
are unusual and very delightful. It is an
idyl of club life, and quite different from
its counterpart of the town. Indeed, all
through Lenox there is a strange mingling
of the sylvan and the urban. You may
have the pleasures and relaxations of the
country, but you need not necessarily be
uncomfortable ; and you are not obliged to
abandon the perfected resources of civiliza-
tion while enjoying them. As in a good
specimen of landscape gardening there are
often simplicity and a simulated wildness,
so in the formalities of Lenox life there
are always refreshing bits and surprises of
nature, and much is gained by the con-
trasts.

Lenox never seems to have passed
through any uncertain or tentative state.

47

Lenox Progress has not been so sudden or so
sensational as in several other popular
" resorts," but it has been very steady, and
to-day Lenox is more popular and famous
than at any other time in its history. And
it is pretty safe to say that its glory will
never decrease. It is too firmly estab-
lished in the regard of many to make it
likely that there will be any lessening in
the number or fervor of its devotees
Then, too, with so much there already, it
is almost a necessary consequence that
there should be more. With so much al-
ready " put into the country " it seems
certain that more will continually be ex-
pended, and that where there are so many
"vested interests " nothing can ever really
be disturbed. But there are interests that
more firmly than any pecuniary ones must
make Lenox a lasting reality. It has a
place in the minds and hearts of hundreds
who have known it, and there are few who
have once felt its subtle charm who have
been able or have cared to escape its
gently coercive power.
48

Much as has been done for Lenox in Lenox
the way of added attractions, there is one
thing that it has done for itself, or rather
that nature has done for it, that has given
it a particular name and fame. A long
time ago people used to send to their
friends abroad particularly brilliant speci-
mens of our gorgeous autumn foliage, and
were rewarded by the expressions of aston-
ment and admiration with which such gifts
from the New World were received. The
friends probably thought such splendor a
very natural part of our savage crudeness,
but they were pleased nevertheless with
such attractive curiosities, and our Amer-
can autumn leaves acquired a wide repu-
tation and came to be considered one of
the peculiar native products of the country.
Of all places in which to seek examples of
them it has long been conceded that Lenox
is the best.

Indeed it is highly probable that, in

some measure, the time of the Lenox

season has been determined by this fact.

People early fell into the habit of making

4?

Lenox pilgrimages to see the " autumn coloring,"
and though they go now to the Berkshires
for many other reasons, they always watch
the foliage and talk about it. And so im-
portant is it, that one of the recognized
subjects of conversation is the degree of
brilliancy that the leaves may have attained
in any particular year, and one says that
the coloring is " poor this year " or " good
this year," as one might speak of a crop
or a vintage. And it is worth seeing and
talking about. There is nothing quite
like it, and, for the time being, our stern
Northern woods seem to take on a certain
tropical splendor and equatorial profusion.
Often the change from summer's quieter
array to the autumn's splendid garniture
comes gradually and, day by day, one
sees the dark woods soften into something
gayer. The places where shadows, in
the strong morning sunshine, lay coldly
blue, become a redder purple, and the
greens a vivid yellow. But it is when the
change comes suddenly that the great
harlequin shift is made with the most
5°

The

Episcopal

Church

astonishing effect. Then, almost in a Leno*
night, the hills assume a new aspect, and
you arise in the morning in a new world.
After a sharp frost, the trees glow with
scarlet and crimson, and the leaves spin-
ning at the end of a branch gleam, where
the light shows through them, with a ruby
brightness. The whole country-side, is
afire, and the forest ablaze in every direc-
tion. Then, it is possible to walk through
rattling drifts of piled-up crispness, and
there is a mild exhilaration, not quite like
anything else, in driving before your feet
the shifting heaps of fallen leaves.

But it is the color that is all important
— a revel of hue and dye — a carousal of
tint and tone ; and with the maple and
sumach to lead, the results are gorgeous
and bewildering. There is nothing hesi-
tating or doubtful in the effect. There is
a vivid frankness about it that makes all a
continual surprise. Accustomed as our
eyes are to the quieter and sadder tones of
the landscape painters of other lands, if it
were not for its royal magnificence, we

53

Lenox might think it tawdry and even vulgar.
But there is a certain imperial power in
the display that justifies itself — that im-
presses and controls us, and makes the
pageant the triumph of the year. It is
with such a setting that the life of Lenox
is mounted; and with such a transforma-
tion scene in the Berkshire Hills that the
shifting high-comedy drama of American
summer society existence comes to its
brilliant end.

51

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