ish countess, who, being in sad distress, parted, though
with the greatest sorrow, with the composition of her illustrious
compatriot.' Mr. Pauer naturally concludes that Mr. Gotthard had been
deceived, that the manuscript was not a genuine autograph, and 'that
the honour of having composed the mazurka in question belongs to Charles
Mayer.' Mr. Pauer further adds: 'It is not likely that C. Mayer, even if
Chopin had made him a present of this mazurka, would have published it
during Chopin's lifetime as a work of his own, or have sold or given it
to the Polish countess. It is much more likely that Mayer's mazurka was
copied in the style of Chopin's handwriting, and after Mayer's death in
1862 sold as Chopin's autograph to Mr. Gotthard.'"]

Surveying the mazurkas in their totality, we cannot but notice that
there is a marked difference between those up to and those above Op. 41.
In the later ones we look in vain for the beautes sauvages which charm
us in the earlier ones--they strike us rather by their propriety of
manner and scholarly elaboration; in short, they have more of reflective
composition and less of spontaneous effusion about them. This, however,
must not be taken too literally. There are exceptions, partial and
total. The "native wood-notes wild" make themselves often heard, only
they are almost as often stifled in the close air of the study. Strange
to say, the last opus (63) of mazurkas published by Chopin has again
something of the early freshness and poetry. Schumann spoke truly when
he said that some poetical trait, something new, was to be found in
every one of Chopin's mazurkas. They are indeed teeming with interesting
matter. Looked at from the musician's point of view, how much do we not
see that is novel and strange, and beautiful and fascinating
withal? Sharp dissonances, chromatic passing notes, suspensions and
anticipations, displacements of accent, progressions of perfect fifths
(the horror of schoolmen), [FOOTNOTE: See especially the passage near
the close of Op. 30, No. 4, where there are four bars of simultaneous
consecutive fifths and sevenths.] sudden turns and unexpected
digressions that are so unaccountable, so out of the line of logical
sequence, that one's following the composer is beset with difficulties,
marked rhythm picture to us the graceful motions of the dancers, and
suggest the clashing of the spurs and the striking of heels against the
ground. The second mazurka might be called "t