Mrs. Standish Tremont's party occupied, as usual, a prominent place on
the Harvard side. She was so great a factor in the social life at
Cambridge that no function could have been a complete success without
the stimulus of her presence. Personally, Mrs. Standish Tremont was
one of those women who never grow old; one would no more have thought
of hazarding a guess about her age than one would have made a similar
calculation about the Goddess of Liberty. She was perennially young,
perennially good-looking, and her entertainments were above reproach.
Some sour old "Grannies" in Boston, who had neither her wit, nor her
health, called her Venus Anno Domino, but they were jealous and cynical
and their testimony cannot be taken as reliable.
What if she had been splitting gloves applauding college games since
the fathers of to-day's contestants had fought and struggled for
similar honors in this very field. She applauded with such vim, and
she gave such delightful dinners afterward, that for the glory of old
Harvard it is to be hoped she will continue to applaud and entertain
the grandsons of to-day's victors, even as she had their sires.
It was said by the uncharitable that the secret of the lady's youth was
the fact that she always surrounded herself with young people, their
pleasure, interests, entertainments were hers; she never permitted
herself to be identified with older people.
To-day, besides several young men who had been out of college for a
year or two, she had her husband's two nieces, the Misses Tremont,
young women well known in Boston's inner circles, her own daughter, a
Mrs. Endicott, a widow, and a very beautiful young girl whom she
introduced as "My cousin, Miss Moore."