Nothing could be further from the truth.

He was overflowingly human, notably full-blooded.

On his "farm" (as he called it) at Peterboro he lived, when he was not composing, a robust and vigorous outdoor life.

He was an ardent sportsman, and he spent much of his time in the woods and fields, fishing, riding, walking, hunting.

He had a special relish for gardening and for photography, and he liked to undertake laborious jobs in carpentry, at which he was quite deft.