A greater contrast than the two Polonaises, Op. 40 (published in November, 1840), can hardly be imagined.  In the first (in A major) the mind of the composer is fixed on one elating thought—­ he sees the gallantly-advancing chivalry of Poland, determination in every look and gesture; he hears rising above the noise of stamping horses and the clash of arms their bold challenge scornfully hurled at the enemy.  In the second (in C minor), on the other hand, the mind of the composer turns from one depressing or exasperating thought to another—­he seems to review the different aspects of his country’s unhappy state, its sullen discontent, fretful agitation, and uncertain hopes.  The manly Polonaise in A major, one of the simplest (not easiest) compositions of Chopin, is the most popular of his polonaises.  The second polonaise, however, although not so often heard, is the more interesting one, the emotional contents being more varied, and engaging more our sympathy.  Further, the pianoforte, however fully and effectively employed, cannot do justice to the martial music of the one, while its capacities are well suited for the rendering of the less material effect of the other.  In conclusion, let me point out in the C minor Polonaise the chafing agitation of the second part, the fitful play between light and shade of the trio-like part in A flat major, and the added wailing voice in the recurring first portion at the end of the piece. [Footnote:  In connection with the A major Polonaise, see last paragraph on next page.]

If Schiller is right in saying “Ernst ist das Leben, heiter ist die Kunst,” then what we find in the Polonaise (in F sharp minor), Op. 44 (published in November, 1841), cannot be art.  We look in vain for beauty of melody and harmony; dreary unisons, querulous melodic phrases, hollow-eyed chords, hard progressions and modulations throughout every part of the polonaise proper.  We receive a pathological rather than aesthetical impression.  Nevertheless, no one can deny the grandeur and originality that shine through this gloom.  The intervening Doppio movimento, tempo di Mazurka, sends forth soft beneficent rays—­reminiscences of long ago, vague and vanishing, sweet and melancholy.  But there is an end to this as to all such dreams.  Those harassing, exasperating gloomy thoughts (Tempo di Polacca) return.  The sharp corners which we round so pleasantly and beautifully in our reconstructions of the past make themselves only too soon felt in the things of the present, and cruelly waken us to reality and its miseries.

The Polonaise, Op. 53 (in A flat major; published in December, 1843), is one of the most stirring compositions of Chopin, manifesting an overmastering power and consuming fire.  But is it really the same Chopin, is it the composer of the dreamy nocturnes, the elegant waltzes, who here fumes and frets, struggling with a fierce, suffocating rage (mark the rushing succession of chords of the sixth, the growling semiquaver figures,