touched by what he thought was
honest praise and admiration. In quiet conversation he was the
most charming of men, but in social gatherings he was ill at
ease, and unable to take part in the tactful conversation and
studied courtesies of society that make for success. His
convictions were passionately idealistic, and he often stated
them with a bluntness and utter lack of diplomacy that would have
made Beethoven claim him as a brother; although MacDowell felt
none of that old giant's bitterness towards Society. Where
Beethoven felt contempt for even the praise of those he knew were
not great enough to understand him, MacDowell was merely
uncomfortable; both because he hated insincere attentions and
because his modesty would seldom allow him to believe that he
deserved even honest congratulations.[Note: When in London in
1903, MacDowell was asked to give some recitals from his
compositions, after the Philharmonic performance of his _D minor
Piano Concerto_, but on seeing the heavy recital list at Wigmore
(then Bechstein) Hall, he characteristically decided that nobody
would want to hear his music after all the other pianists had
played. His London publisher, Mr. W. Elkin. however, asked him to
come the following year, which he promised to do, but his fatal
illness intervened and he never saw England again.]

He was often sarcastic, with the humour of his countrymen, but
never bitter, and even when he was so cruelly misunderstood and
misrepresented about his Columbia resignation, he was more hurt
and disappointed than angry.

In his private life MacDowell's was a healthy, manly and robust
figure. He was fond of outdoor life, of riding and walking, and
of the homely hobbies of gardening, photography and carpentry. He
was fairly tall, broad-shouldered and powerfully built. His
features were strong and intellectual, but a captivating twinkle
and humour in his eyes and a frequent sweetness of expression
prevented his being stern or forbidding. He had a natural, noble
bearing and an unassuming, thoughtful dignity that often gave him
a look of command.

In short, MacDowell was as fine as a man as he was as a composer.
He loved the traditions of the great Republic whose born citizen
he was, and was hopeful of her future in all things, and for her art
he worked nobly and unselfishly. He suffered from discouragement in
an acute form, but worked steadily on with a simple, unshakable
faith in his divine gifts. At the height