He dipped deeply into literature, both ancient and contemporary, and was always working out aesthetic and philosophic problems concerning music. His knowledge of his art would have done justice to a learned academician, though this he certainly was not, and he always held shrewdly formed opinions typical of his countrymen, on subjects that interested him. He had a healthy dislike of fashionable "at-homes" and dinner parties where music is "adored" and "loved" by those who may have a good knowledge of social matters, but who have little or no ability to comprehend the deeper significance and power of the art. In fact one suspects that they adopt high-class music chiefly in an attempt to indicate an intellectual status they do not possess. For sincere and able criticism, however, MacDowell always had respect and interest, and he was always 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.