He was by nature the most selective of all musicians. In matters of music he accepted only what was pleasing to his fine taste. Therefore the music of Beethoven seemed to him often rough and noisy; that of Schubert a mixture of sublime and commonplace; for that of Schumann he seems to have had little or no appreciation. This has often been held to signalize a fault in his musical understanding; and those who so regard it have been pleased to take his love of Italian opera, particularly of Bellini, as further proof of their point. One must not forget, however, that a group of some of the greatest singers the world has ever known were engaged at the Italian opera in Paris, among them Malibran-Garcia, Pasta, Rubini, Lablache; and that such performances as they gave must have been distinguished by consummate artistry. Chopin often advised his pupils to hear great singers, that they might give to their playing something of the grace of song. At the Italian opera there was perfect singing; and there, very likely more than elsewhere, Chopin’s exquisite, artistic nature found satisfaction. His delight in the music of Hummel, like his pleasure in that of Field, is easy to understand. In neither is there distortion of line, nor harshness. More than any other music of that time it was intimately suited to the piano. As delicate, fluent sound it must even today be granted excellent; and for Chopin no fury or power of emotion could justify sound that was unpleasant. His understanding of and love for the piano were so perfect and exacting that one can easily imagine him more willing to forgive triviality of emotion, for the sake of a delicate expression, than to tolerate a harsh or clumsy treatment of the instrument, for the sake of any emotional stress whatsoever. But neither the Italian opera nor the music of Hummel and Field was the favorite music of Chopin. The two composers whose works he accepted unqualifiedly were Sebastian Bach and Mozart. Here he found a rich emotion and a flawless beauty of style. Here there was no distortion, no struggle of ideas, no harshness. Here was for him perfection of form and, what is perhaps rarest in any art, a just proportion between form and content, an unblemished union of all the elements which make music not only great but wholly beautiful.