“Upon the known facts of Whistler’s career I do not touch. I wish only to underline his Americanism, and to offer you one or two personal memories. He was ‘an American of the Americans,’ say the American papers, and who shall venture to dispute their dictum? Not I, certainly. Nor would anybody who knew Whistler personally. I knew him for many years in London and in Paris. I have many letters from him on art and other matters, some of which ought to be printed, for his letters to friends were not less works of art than those which he composed more carefully for print. I have books and drawings which he gave me. I mention these things as evidence that I may fairly say something about him, at least on the personal side. And I knew on what terms he lived with the so-called art world in England, and what his own view of the matter was.” And an English writer said, some ten years ago:[3] “It should not be forgotten in America that Mr. Whistler is an American of Americans. It may therefore be appropriately asked, What has America done for him? It has treated him with--if possible--even more ignorance than England; this, of course, coming from the desire of the Anglomaniac to out-English the English.” And there are others whose testimony will be forthcoming some day to show how wholly and absolutely American he was to the very core and centre of his being, and in his attitude towards all countries and peoples of Europe. It is true he said many harsh, bitter, and cutting things concerning the press and people of this country, that he frequently exhibited in the English sections of art exhibitions in preference to those of his own country; but for all these things there were many good reasons, and we have but ourselves to blame. He was so much of an American that a single word of ridicule from this side cut deeper than pages of abuse from the other. To the scoffings of England he turned a careless ear, and replied with flippant, but pointed, tongue; while the utter lack of support and appreciation from his own country was ever referred to with a bitterness that betrayed his real feelings. He could not understand how the American people could desert a countryman battling alone against all England. As he frequently said: “It did not matter whether I was in the right or in the wrong,--I was one against the mob. Why did America take the side of the mob,--and--and get whipped?” * * * * *