analogy. All genius, in the end, is of one blood, and MacDowell is
unquestionably a genius.

When one is entering upon a literary career, the first injunction is
to "acquire a style." "But how?" asks the aspirant. Some say by
becoming familiar with the forms of expression of the best authors,
and such advise that you read without stint. Others bid you write,
write incessantly about everything under the sun, until by long
practice you evolve a style of your own, unhampered in its originality
by the memory of the achievements of others resulting from much
reading. There are still others who advise an equal division of time
between study of the classics and self-expression. The latter is the
most natural and common method and leads in time to the goal. Perhaps
the same is true of musical style. Technical skill, accuracy,
interpretation and appreciation come from studying and performing the
works of others; then if one aspires to original work, let him
compose, essaying any and everything until his own peculiar bent is
discovered, unless it forces itself upon him with the insistence of
destiny from the outset.

While the critics have admitted the freshness, originality and general
excellence of MacDowell's work and marveled over his versatility, his
shorter piano pieces and songs are as yet most popular in the making
of programmes. However, Henry T. Finck says of his sonatas: "As
regards the sonatas, I ought to bear MacDowell a decided grudge. After
I had written and argued a hundred times that the sonata form was
'played out,' he went to work and wrote four sonatas to confute me. To
be sure, I might have my revenge and say they are 'not sonatas'; but
they are no more unorthodox than the sonatas of Chopin, Schumann,
Liszt and Grieg, though they have a freedom of their own which is