Chopin published during his lifetime forty-one Mazurkas in eleven cahiers of three, four and five numbers.  Op. 6, four Mazurkas, and op. 7, five Mazurkas, were published December, 1832.  Op. 6 is dedicated to Comtesse Pauline Plater; op. 7 to Mr. Johns.  Op. 17, four Mazurkas, May 4, dedicated to Madame Lina Freppa; op. 24, four Mazurkas, November, 1835, dedicated to Comte de Perthuis; op. 30, four Mazurkas, December, 1837, dedicated to Princesse Czartoryska; op. 33, four Mazurkas, October, 1838, dedicated to Comtesse Mostowska; op. 41, four Mazurkas, December, 1840, dedicated to E. Witwicki; op. 50, three Mazurkas, November, 1841, dedicated to Leon Szmitkowski; op. 56, three Mazurkas, August, 1844, dedicated to Mile.  C. Maberly; op. 59, three Mazurkas, April, 1846, no dedication, and op. 63, three Mazurkas, September, 1847, dedicated to Comtesse Czosnowska.

Besides there are op. 67 and 68 published by Fontana after Chopin’s death, consisting of eight Mazurkas, and there are a miscellaneous number, two in A minor, both in the Kullak, Klindworth and Mikuli editions, one in F sharp major, said to be written by Charles Mayer—­in Klindworth’s—­and four others, in G, B flat, D and C major.  This makes in all fifty-six to be grouped and analyzed.  Niecks thinks there is a well-defined difference between the Mazurkas as far as op. 41 and those that follow.  In the latter he misses “savage beauties” and spontaneity.  As Chopin gripped the form, as he felt more, suffered more and knew more, his Mazurkas grew broader, revealed more Weltschmerz, became elaborate and at times impersonal, but seldom lost the racial “snap” and hue.  They are sonnets in their well-rounded mecanisme, and, as Schumann says, something new is to be found in each.  Toward the last, a few are blithe and jocund, but they are the exceptions.  In the larger ones the universal quality is felt, but to the detriment of the intimate, Polish characteristics.  These Mazurkas are just what they are called, only some dance with the heart, others with the heels.  Comprising a large and original portion of Chopin’s compositions, they are the least known.  Perhaps when they wander from the map of Poland they lose some of their native fragrance.  Like hardy, simple wild flowers, they are mostly for the open air, the only out-of-doors music Chopin ever made.  But even in the open, under the moon, the note of self-torture, of sophisticated sadness is not absent.  Do not accuse Chopin, for this is the sign-manual of his race.  The Pole suffers in song the joy of his sorrow.

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