also did missionary work for Templeton Strong and other Americans. His
interpretation of the music of other composers was both objective and
subjective; there was no distortion or exaggeration, yet one could not
mistake the fact that it was MacDowell who was playing it.

"The expression, 'he played like a composer,' is often used to hint
that the technic was not that of a virtuoso. In this sense MacDowell
did not play like a composer; his technical skill was equal to
everything he played, though never obtrusive. In another sense he did
play 'like a composer,' especially when interpreting his own pieces;
that is, he played with an insight, a subtlety of expression, which
only a creative performer has at his command. I doubt if Chopin
himself could have rendered one of his pieces with more ravishing
delicacy than MacDowell showed in playing his 'To a Wild Rose.' I
doubt if Liszt could have shown a more overwhelming dramatic power
than MacDowell did in playing his 'Keltic' sonata. In this combination
of feminine tenderness with masculine strength he was, as in his
creative gift, a man of genius. After one of his concerts I wrote in
the glow of enthusiasm that I would rather hear him than any pianist
in the field excepting Paderewski; that utterance I never saw reason
to modify."

For an interesting and closely observed description of MacDowell's
technical peculiarities as a piano player I am indebted to his friend
and pupil, Mr. T.P. Currier, who had followed MacDowell's career as a
pianist from the time of his first public appearance in Boston:

"[His finger velocity] was at that time [in 1888] the most striking
characteristic of his playing," says Mr. Currier. "For him, too, it
was a mere bagatelle. He took to prestissimo like a duck to water. He