But, you may say, this is feminine hysteria, the impotent cries of an unmanly, weak nature.  Read the E flat minor, the C minor, the A major, the F sharp minor and the two A flat major Polonaises!  Ballades, Scherzi, Studies, Preludes and the great F minor Fantaisie are purposely omitted from this awing scheme.  Chopin was weak in physique, but he had the soul of a lion.  Allied to the most exquisite poetic sensibilities—­one is reminded here of Balzac’s “Ce beau genie est moins un musicien qu’une dine qui se rend sensible”—­there was another nature, fiery, implacable.  He loved Poland, he hated her oppressors.  There is no doubt he idealized his country and her wrongs until the theme grew out of all proportion.  Politically the Poles and Celts rub shoulders.  Niecks points out that if Chopin was “a flattering idealist as a national poet, as a personal poet he was an uncompromising realist.”  So in the polonaises we find two distinct groups:  in one the objective, martial side predominates, in the other is Chopin the moody, mournful and morose.  But in all the Polish element pervades.  Barring the mazurkas, these dances are the most Polish of his works.  Appreciation of Chopin’s wide diversity of temperament would have sparedthe world the false, silly, distorted portraits of him.  He had the warrior in him, even if his mailed fist was seldom used.  There are moments when he discards gloves and soft phrases and deals blows that reverberate with formidable clangor.

By all means read Liszt’s gorgeous description of the Polonaise.  Originating during the last half of the sixteenth century, it was at first a measured procession of nobles and their womankind to the sound of music.  In the court of Henry of Anjou, in 1574, after his election to the Polish throne, the Polonaise was born, and throve in the hardy, warlike atmosphere.  It became a dance political, and had words set to it.  Thus came the Kosciuszko, the Oginski, the Moniuszko, the Kurpinski, and a long list written by composers with names ending in “ski.”  It is really a march, a processional dance, grave, moderate, flowing, and by no means stereotyped.  Liszt tells of the capricious life infused into its courtly measures by the Polish aristocracy.  It is at once the symbol of war and love, a vivid pageant of martial splendor, a weaving, cadenced, voluptuous dance, the pursuit of shy, coquettish woman by the fierce warrior.

The Polonaise is in three-four time, with the accent on the second beat of the bar.  In simple binary form—­ternary if a trio is added—­this dance has feminine endings to all the principal cadences.  The rhythmical cast of the bass is seldom changed.  Despite its essentially masculine mould, it is given a feminine title; formerly it was called Polonais.  Liszt wrote of it: