Lost splendor: The tragic story of Ashintully and its ill-fated residents

Amidst the rolling hills of the small rural community of Tyringham, Massachusetts, looms the haunting remains of Ashintully — a grand mansion erected in the early 1900s by Robb dePeyster Tytus and his wife, Grace. The imposing remnants of the home are more than just brick and stone. They have a presence that acts as a reminder of the fading glory of its bygone days. Yet, it’s not just the physical form of Ashtintully that commands one’s attention. The weight of all the tragedy and misfortune associated with it lingers on like a mournful lament. 

The rise of Ashintully 

Robb dePeyster Tytus was born into privilege in Asheville, North Carolina, in 1876. After attending St. Mark's School in Southboro, Massachusetts, he honed his artistic skills at Yale University, where he graduated in 1897, and ventured into the world of illustration. Tytus later developed a passion for archeology and, from 1899-1903, joined archeologists Percy E. Newbury and Howard Carter in Egypt at their excavations in Luxor. There, he helped uncover the palace of King Tutankhamun’s grandfather, King Amenhotep III, and discovered the oldest bathrooms in the world. 

Tytus married Grace Seeley Henop on May 19, 1903, in New York City. That same year, he published a book about Amenhotep III’s palace. According to reports, the couple honeymooned in the Berkshires and fell in love with the small town of Tyringham. It was there, amongst the undulating countryside and whispering trees, that they found a place totaling more than 1,000 acres to create their own little slice of heaven.

In 1910 they began the process of building their Tyringham home, designed by architect Francis Hoppin. Two years passed, but finally, the edifice was complete. Its Georgian-style façade was stately and impressive, with 35 spacious rooms replete with 15 cozy fireplaces, ten bathrooms, and a magnificent library boasting over 12,000 volumes. Tytus gave their home the name "Ashintully," a Gaelic word meaning "on the brow of the hill." But the town’s people had their own name for it, the "Marble Palace," because of the way the brilliant white sand used for the stucco of the mansion shimmered in both the light of day and the moon's silver glow. The couple adorned their house with artifacts and curiosities gathered from their time abroad. 

Tytus became settled in the Berkshires and became involved with politics and the local community. He was twice elected to the state legislature as Representative of the 7th Berkshire District, no easy feat as a Democrat in a predominantly Republican district. Additionally, he was a part of the Tyringham school committee and the library board of trustees.  

Mysteries of the Marble Palace 

During its prime, Ashintully was the center of many social affairs and parties, and those privileged enough to be invited knew that there was no more delightful place to be on the night of a full moon than the dance parties hosted within its walls. The house saw many prevalent guests drawn by the unmistakable allure of its charm and elegance amid its heyday. Yet, it could not shake the peculiar and unexplainable aura that seemed to shroud it. Many strange happenings were rumored to occur at the house, with locals and guests alike whispering about eerie sightings and otherworldly occurrences that defied explanation. 

In the sultry days of July 1911, the sun beat down on the sprawling estate of Ashintully as a group of haymakers was clearing out a barn when they uncovered a ghastly sight that sent chills down their spines; a dead body. They summoned the sheriff, but he didn’t dare touch the lifeless form until the medical examiner had seen it. So, they sent for Dr. D.M. Wilcox from nearby Lee. When he laid eyes on the body, he knew something wasn’t right, and he declared that this was no ordinary corpse. It was the remnant of a being who had long since passed from this world. The body that had caused such a stir was none other than a 3000-year-old Egyptian mummy, a relic of Tytus' passion for ancient history, which he had carefully stowed away in the barn until the grand mansion was ready to receive it.

In another curious tale recounted by The Berkshire Eagle in 1933, Henry Adams, the great-grandson of John Adams, was visiting Ashintully, only to be awakened in the night by a voice calling out his name. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he saw that the voice seemed to be emanating from a nearby painting, which began to glow with an eerie light. According to reports, the portrait was of an Italian woman of nobility believed to be stolen from a Roman palace and smuggled into the United States. 

Robb dePeyster Tytus didn’t have much time to revel in the splendor of Ashintully, for he died suddenly in New York in 1913. He was suffering from throat trouble and receiving treatment in the Adirondacks. His condition had recently improved, and hope was expressed for a full recovery, so his death was quite a shock. He now rests in the Tytus family cemetery, within McLennan Reservation at the summit of Round Mountain in Tyringham, although no path remains to lead visitors to his grave. 

A series of misfortunes

Two years after Tytus’s death, Grace remarried a man named John Stewart McLennan, a Canadian senator and newspaper owner. Together they welcomed a son, John Jr., in 1915. But their happiness was short-lived. Shortly after that, Grace and John Sr. divorced. 

In the summer of 1928, Grace was playing tennis when she slipped and fell, causing players and onlookers to rush to her aid. After the accident, she had a heart attack followed by a series of seizures — one of those seizures caused her death on August 28. Reports say that the pallbearers struggled to carry her up the mountain and place her at her final resting place alongside her first husband in the Tytus family cemetery. 

The hand of tragedy continued its grasp on the Tytus family, and in October 1933, their eldest daughter Mildred was driving through Springfield, Massachusetts, on her way back to the estate when fate dealt her a cruel hand. Her car swerved off the road and crashed into two trees, causing her to be thrown out of the vehicle. When she was found, she lay twelve feet away from the wreckage, her fate uncertain. Mildred was rushed to a nearby hospital, but the doctors' efforts were in vain. She passed away several days later at the age of 29; her young life cut short by a fractured skull and other severe injuries. 

John McLennan Jr. eventually assumed ownership of Ashintully. He lived with his wife Sally in the mansion until their divorce in 1941. John Jr. eventually moved into the farmhouse at the bottom of the hill and turned the barn nearby into a music studio. He and his second wife Katherine dedicated three decades to creating a garden landscape that would eventually earn the Hunnewell Medal from the Massachusetts Horticultural Society in 1997.

Over time, the mansion became a relic of its former glory, its grandeur fading, and John Jr. made several attempts to sell Ashintully. After years on the market, the house, along with 100 acres of the estate, was sold in 1951 to a man from New York. This left about 1,000 acres for the McLennans. While the final sale price wasn’t mentioned with the final transaction date, the asking price for the mansion was $35,000. 

Just a year later, spring had barely arrived when calamity struck again, and a fire roared through the house and surrounding forest. According to an article from The Berkshire Eagle, the fire was ignited when Katherine McLennan was burning trash in an incinerator on the property, and strong winds swiftly carried sparks onto a small milk barn and nearby fields and quickly spread. More than 100 volunteer firefighters from Tyringham, Lee, Monterey, Otis, East Otis, and Lenox came and battled the uncontrollable blaze. At first, they kept the fire from spreading to the house, but later, when they thought that Ashintully was safe, sparks ignited the attic beginning the fire’s relentless assault on the grand mansion. Debris rained down, and water was in short supply, hindering firefighters’ efforts. All in all, they battled the fire for nearly eight hours as hundreds of onlookers watched the inferno swallow the once-magnificent Ashintully. When the smoke had cleared, all that was left of the house was a charred skeleton of what had been a beacon of grandeur, including the four towering Doric columns, front terrace, and foundation. More than 600 acres of dense forest in Tyringham, Monterey, Otis, and East Otis were also destroyed. 

Then, in 1977, John Jr. and Katherine gave 446 acres to the Trustees of Reservations (who maintain the property today) to help establish the McLennan Reservation. It was opened to the public in 1978. The house and gardens were later given to the Trustees in 1996.

The Berkshire Eagle, April 21, 1952

Through the years, all of the tragedies associated with Ashintully have led to rumors and speculation of an ancient Egyptian curse on the ill-fated Tytus family and their beloved home. For among its ruins lies a tale of sorrow and despair that no amount of time can erase. The four cracked columns, once resolute, now stand as silent witnesses guarding the decaying terrace and foundation. Like sentinels of a forgotten era, they tower above the hill, enveloped by the relentless grasp of overgrown vegetation as they etch their presence upon the landscape.

 

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