Jervis McEntee Diaries

Tuesday April 3, 1888

Jervis McEntee Diary Entry, April 3, 1888, from the Jervis McEntee papers, 1850-1905, in the Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution

Tuesday, Apr 3, 1888 The girl came promptly this morning. I had overslept myself and was still in bed. No one had molested her, she said and I cautioned her not to quarrel with the housekeeper. I had to hurry off to breakfast and left her to do the work. Directly after breakfast I noticed the death of old Mr. Whitehorne an old Academician in the Tribune, the funeral to take place at 10 oclock at 119 E. 115th St. I had half an hour but I took the L. road and got there in time. The place was at the top of the house in a [?] flat and only a very few people were there. Guy was the only artist except Mr. Faushaw an old Associate. There was no [?] and candles were burning at his head. An old gentleman [?] proposed to his wife to make a prayer but she warned [?] to unless asked to, as they were Catholics. There was no [?] son received the people who came and he was [?]. I asked him how much of a family his father had and he said a son by a first wife and, I think a son and a daughter by a second wife. Guy told me he was entirely dependent on his profession and that they were very poor in absolute distress. I could not regret the poor old man was at rest. The last time I saw him was at the Academy this winter at one of the social meetings. He seemed to be alone and I went and spoke to him and had quite a long conversation with him. He told me he was 85 years old. The whole occasion was a very sad one to me. It showed me how easily we are forgotten and neglected and allowed to die in poverty and alone. I did not get back to my room until 12 o'clock. The girl had just finished giving it a thorough cleaning and had locked her hat and shawl in. She said she had had no trouble, but after she had gone I discovered she had forgotten to do the chamber work, which is not reassuring. However she had more than usual to do today and I think forgot it. I have had an exciting day, and been hurried more than I like to be. Sara and I dined with Mr & Mrs Eastman Johnson and Ethel. Parke Godwin had sent them his box for the American Opera this evening. The consequence was we had to hurry away from dinner and got there late as it was. The opera was well put on the stage but the singing was in no way remarkable. I got to bed at midnight pretty tired.

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