Time.' A dozen boys rushed forward and the one who gained the chair
dashed it off with the abandon of a four weeks' old freshman ...

"The lectures on musical form were distinguished by many brilliant
demonstrations of MacDowell's genius. The ease and rapidity with which
he flashed his thoughts upon the blackboard were both inspiring and
bewildering to the student who must grope his way through notes before
he can reach an idea. If any were unwise enough to stop even for a
moment to catch these spontaneous thoughts as they flew along the
staff, they were very apt upon looking up to see them vanishing like
phantoms in a cloud of white chalk. At the same time he made
sarabandes, gavottes, minuets, chaconnes, passepieds, gigues,
polonaises and rondos dance across the piano in quick succession; and
his comments were as spirited as his playing.

"Professor MacDowell's criticisms were clear and forceful, and filled
with many surprising and humorous touches. Of Bach he said, 'Bach
spoke in close, scientific, contrapuntal language. He was as emotional
and romantic as Chopin, Wagner or Tchaikovsky; his emotion was
expressed in the language of his time. Young women who say they adore
Bach play him like a sum in mathematics. They find a grim pleasure in
it, like biting on a sore tooth.'

"He never approached the piano like a conqueror. He had a nervous way
of saying that he didn't know whether things would go, because he had
had no time to practise. After an apologetic little preamble, he would
sit down and play these rococo bits of trailing sound with fingers
dipped in lightning, fingers that flashed over the keys in perfect
evenness and with perfect sureness.