Comte de Perthuis, the adjutant of King Louis Philippe, who had heard Chopin and Moscheles repeatedly play the latter’s Sonata in E flat major for four hands, spoke so much and so enthusiastically about it at Court that the royal family, wishing “to have also the great treat,” invited the two artists to come to St. Cloud.  The day after this soiree Moscheles wrote in his diary:—­

Yesterday was a memorable day...at nine o’clock Chopin and I, with Perthuis and his amiable wife, who had called for us, drove out to St. Cloud in the heaviest showers of rain, and felt so much the more comfortable when we entered the brilliant, well-lighted palace.  We passed through many state- rooms into a salon carre, where the royal family was assembled en petit comite.  At a round table sat the queen with an elegant work-basket before her (perhaps to embroider a purse for me?); near her were Madame Adelaide, the Duchess of Orleans, and ladies-in-waiting.  The noble ladies were as affable as if we had been old acquaintances...Chopin played first a number of nocturnes and studies, and was admired and petted like a favourite.  After I also had played some old and new studies, and been honoured with the same applause, we seated ourselves together at the instrument—­he again playing the bass, which he always insists on doing.  The close attention of the little circle during my E flat major Sonata was interrupted only by the exclamations “divine!” “delicious!” After the Andante the queen whispered to a lady- in-waiting:  “Would it not be indiscreet to ask them to play it again?” which naturally was equivalent to a command to repeat it, and so we played it again with increased abandon.  In the Finale we gave ourselves up to a musical delirium.  Chopin’s enthusiasm throughout the whole piece must, I believe, have infected the auditors, who now burst forth into eulogies of us.  Chopin played again alone with the same charm, and called forth the same sympathy as before; then I improvised...

[Footnote:  In the “Neue Zeitschrift fur Musik” of November 12, 1839, we read that Chopin improvised on Grisar’s “La Folle,” Moscheles on themes by Mozart.  La Folle is a romance the success of which was so great that a wit called it une folie de salon.  It had for some years an extraordinary popularity, and made the composer a reputation.]

To show his gratitude, the king sent the two artists valuable presents:  to Chopin a gold cup and saucer, to Moscheles a travelling case.  “The king,” remarked Chopin, “gave Moscheles a travelling case to get the sooner rid of him.”  The composer was fond of and had a talent for throwing off sharp and witty sayings; but it is most probable that on this occasion the words were prompted solely by the fancy, and that their ill-nature was only apparent.  Or must we assume that the man Moscheles was less congenial to Chopin than the artist?  Moscheles was a Jew, and Chopin disliked the Jews.  As, however, the tempting opportunity afforded by the nature of the king’s present to Moscheles is sufficient to account for Chopin’s remark, and no proofs warranting a less creditable explanation are forthcoming, it would be unfair to listen to the suggestions of suspicion.