Nostalgia
... “Quite true—now that it is established as an improbability, it becomes true!
Extract from a letter à propos of Mr. Whistler’s contemplated visit to his native land.
They tell me that December has been fixed upon, by the Fates, for my arrival in New York—and, if I escape the Atlantic, I am to be wrecked by the reporter on the pier.
The World, Oct. 13, 1886.
I shall be in his hands, even as is the sheep in the hands of his shearer—for I have learned nothing from those who have gone before—and been lost too!
What will you! I know Matthew Arnold, and am told that he whispered Truth exquisite, unheeded in the haste of America.
And these others who have crossed the seas, that they might fasten upon the hurried ones at home and gird at them with wisdom, hysterically acquired, and administered, unblushingly, with a suddenness of purpose that prevented their ever being listened to here,—must I follow in their wake, to be met with suspicion by my compatriots, and resented as the invading instructor?
Heavens!—who knows!—also in the papers, where naturally I read only of myself, I gather a general impression of offensive aggressiveness, that, coupled with Chase’s monstrous lampoon, has prepared me for the tomahawk on landing.
How dared he, Chase, to do this wicked thing?—and I who was charming, and made him beautiful on canvas—the Masher of the Avenues.
However, I may not put off until the age of the amateur has gone by, but am to take with me some of those works which have won for me the execration of Europe, that they may be shown to a country in which I cannot be a prophet, and where I, who have no intention of being other than joyous—improving no one—not even myself—will say again my “Ten o’Clock,” which I refused to repeat in London—J’ai dit!
This is no time for hesitation—one cannot continually disappoint a Continent!