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 of his fame he was never unapproachable, but always had a kindly thought for the struggling student of limited means; and although his plans at Columbia University were defeated, he gave free private lessons to poor students of talent.  His noble and unselfish action in this regard has not often been equalled among past and present successful musicians.  MacDowell was very modest about his work, but he was quite conscious of the greatness of his gifts, and he had the ambition to make a name, not merely for his own sake, but also that America might be able to hold up her head as proudly in music as she does in other things.

The idea of purely personal fame seldom entered his head and when it did it made him rather uncomfortable, but his belief that he was gifted and destined to make a name for his country, sustained him in the struggle against the endless drudgery that always dogged the free use of his talents.