Category Archives: Scholarly

Dover Franchomme edition now @laBnF and other libraries!

I’m thrilled and honored to announce that the Dover edition of out-of-print works by Auguste Franchomme is now in the collection of the Music Department of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France in Paris, where I did much of the research for its Introduction.  May it help others further the research!

Je suis ravie et honoreé d’annoncer l’édition d’Auguste Franchomme est @laBnF, Paris où j’espère la recherche peut aider les autres chercheurs/euses!

View some of the other libraries that have this book in their collections here, including Juilliard, U of Chicago, Columbia, and UNC at Chapel Hill:

If you’d like your own copy, it’s for sale at Dover, Amazon (worldwide), Barnes and Noble and other booksellers.

Chopin’s influences, Pt. 2: Chopin’s solo piano music and the cello, by Sara Davis Buechner

The influences upon Franchomme by Chopin are multifold, as I’ve written in my doctoral thesis, my album notes and most recently in Dover’s Franchomme publication.  But what about the influences of the cellist upon Chopin?  A few weeks ago, I wrote this post from my cellist’s perspective. I recently discussed the topic by email with the celebrated (and now cello-brated) pianist Sara Davis Buechner, whom I’m honored to call my friend.  I invited her to write her own essay about this, and she replied:

Dear Louise:

I was tempted to politely dismiss your kind invitation yesterday to write a little something about Chopin and the cello, yet this morning recalled the many piano lessons that have turned into frustrating urgings to students, who seem to know nothing of string playing, chamber music in general, or the importance of phrasing, breathing, bowing, etc. So out of PURE SELFISHNESS, I looked up a few favorite “cello” passages in my Chopin scores, and cobbled together a little essay for you. I will be sharing it with my piano students, too!  Thanks, Louise, and bravo again on the Franchomme project! Yay!

Her essay follows! As I told Sara, there’s clearly much more to be written about this fascinating topic  – but if you’d like to use any of this material, please contact me for citation instructions.

Notes On Chopin and the Cello

by Sara Davis Buechner ©2017

The extraordinary piano music of Frédéric Chopin (1810 – 1849) –being enough discussed, over-played, and analyzed to death, by too many performers, teachers and musicologists — is not a subject much given to my own natural literary impulses, in terms of adding yet more commentary to that already immense (if valuable) pile. Nonetheless the Dover re-publication of cello music by Chopin’s devoted friend August Franchomme (1808 – 1884), in a new edition by my esteemed colleague Louise Dubin, elicits my observations here.

Responsible pianists everywhere place great attention on the dextrous innovations largely credited to Chopin at the outset of the Romantic Era — a style of writing for the instrument that is quintessentially pianistic in terms of exploiting the human hand’s natural ability to project the myriad colors and shadings of the piano. In the course of conquering the manifold technical difficulties inherent in any fine performance of Chopin’s works, the pianist must also unravel the many influences upon the Polish master that contributed to his bold, even revolutionary musical style — Bach’s counterpoint; Mozart’s formal purity; the pedagogic innovations of Muzio Clementi, Carl Czerny and Friedrich Kalkbrenner; the folk music of Poland; and most essentially, the lyrical sound, phrasing and breathing of great Italian opera.

Chopin’s intimate and singular melodic genius is buttressed by keen and exciting bass parts, which often exploit his knowledge of the cello. Besides the well known “Cello Étude” in C sharp minor op. 25 no. 7 — an extended melody for the left hand which could easily be performed as a duo with piano (playing the treble line), there are numerous piano pieces in Chopin’s canon whose interpretation can be improved by an awareness of the cellistic sound of certain passages.

There are possibly too many such left-hand passages to enumerate, but a short list could include:

         Andante Spianato and Grand Polonaise op. 22

The left-hand part of the entire opening Andante could make for a most attractive cello solo Prelude.

         Ballade no. 3 in A flat major op. 47

The transitional section in C sharp minor, measures 157 – 165.

         Mazurka in C minor op. 56 no. 3

The four-voice contrapuntal nature of the opening measures should lead to a clear examination of the left hand itself, in the nature of a duo for two cellos.

         Nocturne in F major op. 15 no. 1

Pianists who over-concentrate on the double-note challenges in the stormy minor passage, measures 37 – 48, often neglect the cellistic nature of the melody in the left hand.

         Nocturne in E major op. 62 no. 2

Transitional section, measures 32 – 39.

         Piano Sonata no. 2 in B flat minor op. 35

In the middle of the Scherzo movement (“Più lento”), there is a profoundly cello-inspired passage for left hand, measures 144 –  161.

         Polonaise-Fantaisie op. 61

The beatific passage beginning at measure 148 (“Poco più lento”) is suffused throughout with lovely ostinato undulations in the left hand, ideal for the sound of the cello.

         Prélude in C sharp minor op. 45

This lesser-known Prélude demonstrates one of the most remarkable qualities in Chopin’s style — his ability to transform techniques with larger perspective. Here again one may see cellistic writing in the left hand. But it does not limit itself solely to that interpretation, as the arpeggios that unfold from the bass of the keyboard upward actually reach high, well beyond cello range. As if the cello itself turns into a harp about midway on its journey.

         Prélude in B minor op. 28 no. 6

Essentially a melodic study for the left hand.

         Waltz in A minor op. 34 no. 2

The opening and closing of this well-known Waltz is essentially a melody for cello, accompanied by the right hand part of the piano.

Lastly, I’ll mention that one of the most-failed question on Piano Literature examinations is: “How many Sonatas did Frédéric write? The answer, of course, being four — the three solo Piano Sonatas and the Sonata for Cello and Piano op. 65, written for Franchomme. It may be fairly argued that of these four works, the Cello Sonata is the most successful, in terms of formal perfection and melodic directness.

We must always recall that, after his output for solo piano (and piano concertos), the next most-explored genres of Chopin’s repertoire consist of chamber music for cello, and vocal music. Clearly in his mind, the sound of these two instruments was similar, alluring, and reflective of what he wished to achieve sonically on the piano. To play Chopin on the piano is always (as my teacher Byron Janis would exhort) to sing. With the right hand Soprano or the left hand Cello.

Sara Davis Buechner, Philadelphia 2017

Some juicy details about Dover’s Franchomme Publication/Ma description de la publication Franchomme par Dover

©2017  Do not copy, publish or reproduce without the written permission of Louise Dubin

On May 17, 2017, Dover Publications released Selected Works for Cello and Piano by Auguste Franchomme, with Introduction by Louise Dubin. Many libraries have already acquired it, including Juilliard, Columbia and University of Chicago; check the constantly updating list on worldcat to find a copy near you.

These works have been out of print for over a century, and are reprinted here from their first editions, which include Franchomme’s original fingerings and bowings. The Introduction includes a good representation of my research, as well as some unpublished photos from Franchomme’s descendants. It should be interesting reading for any historian of early Romantic music (he was best friends with Chopin after all), and provide repertoire for cellists looking for unknown pearls.  Please read below for more details, in English and French!

Selected Works for Cello and Piano by Auguste Franchomme, with Introduction by Louise Dubin. Dover Publications: Mineola, New York, 17 mai 2017.

Dover Publications a juste publié Selected Works for Cello and Piano by Auguste Franchomme, with Introduction by Louise Dubin. Les œuvres que j’ai sélectionnées ont été épuisées pendant plus d’un siècle, injustifiablement, et sont réimprimées ici des premières éditions qui incluent les doigtés et les coups d’archet indiqués par Franchomme. La Préface comprend une bonne représentation de mes recherches et quelques photos jamais autrefois publiées pas ses descendants. Ce devrait être une lecture intéressante pas seulement pour les violoncellistes, mais pour tous historiens de la musique romantique (Franchomme était le meilleur ami de Chopin après tout). Également, ce livre offre un répertoire nouveau pour les violoncellistes qui cherchent les perles inconnues.

Le violoncelliste Auguste Franchomme (1808-1884) est souvent rappelé comme l’ami et le collaborateur de Chopin. Mais en son temps, il était reconnu comme l’un des meilleurs violoncellistes en Europe. Ainsi que jouer la musique de chambre avec Chopin, Alard et beaucoup d’autres, il était également le violoncelliste solo de la Musique du Roi du Louis-Philippe, de l’Orchestre du Théâtre Italien et plusieurs autres orchestres, enseigné le violoncelle pendant 38 ans au Conservatoire de Paris, et publié plus de 50 œuvres originales pour son instrument. Les compositions de violoncelle de Franchomme sont des exemples superbes des genres popularisés par les violonistes et les pianistes au début du 19ème siècle, notamment les airs variés, les fantaisies, les caprices et les nocturnes (Franchomme a composé les premiers nocturnes en style Chopin pour le violoncelle). Ils comprennent souvent des airs et des thèmes d’opéra qui étaient familiers à son public.

Beaucoup de compositions de Franchomme démontrent sa technique virtuose de la main gauche et ses motifs élégants de l’archet, augmentant des pratiques de ses prédécesseurs Bernhard Romberg, Charles-Nicolas Baudiot, Jean-Louis Duport et les autres. Alors que son écriture de violoncelle atteint les nouveaux sommets de virtuosité, elle provient d’un tempérament raffiné; souvent douce, mélancolique ou humoristique, mais jamais inélégante, ironique, ou enflée. Ses pièces laissent de l’espace pour la réflexion. Dans l’Introduction, je discute des innovations de dans sa technique de violoncelle et ses compositions, y compris les influences sur et par Chopin.

Les Caprices, op. 7 et les Études, op. 25 de Franchomme ne sont pas épuisés, et ils sont dans les collections aux nombreux violoncellistes. Mais beaucoup de ses autres œuvres, y compris les compositions que j’ai sélectionnées pour ce volume, ont été épuisées depuis la mort de Franchomme en 1884, sinon plus longtemps. Plusieurs de ces pièces ont de grandes histoires attachées, comme j’explique dans ma Préface.

Ce volume offre aux violoncellistes des pièces charmantes à ajouter à leur répertoire. Certaines de ces œuvres sont déjà connues à cause des enregistrements de Roel Dieltiens, Anner Bylsma, et moi-même. Ce volume comprend également certains des arrangements de Franchomme des œuvres de Chopin, ainsi que sa collaboration avec George Osborne. Avec la recherche originale incluse dans ma Préface, ce volume devrait intéresser pas seulement les violoncellistes, mais aussi tous personnes qui s’occupent aux sujets de technique d’instruments à cordes, Chopin et musique du XIXe siècle en général.

English version:

The French cellist-composer Auguste Franchomme (1808-1884) is often remembered as Chopin’s friend and collaborator, but in his day he was renowned as one of the best cellists in Europe. In addition to performing chamber music with Chopin, Alard, and many others, he also served as the solo cellist of Louis-Philippe’s Musique du Roi, the Théâtre Italien and several other orchestras, taught for 38 years at the Paris Conservatoire, and published over 50 original works for his instrument.  Franchomme’s cello compositions are superb examples of the genres popularized by violinists and pianists in early 19th century Paris, especially airs variés, fantaisies, caprices, and nocturnes (Franchomme composed the first ever Chopin-style nocturnes for the cello). They often feature tunes and opera themes that were familiar to his audiences.

Many of Franchomme’s compositions showcased his virtuosic left hand technique and elegant bowing patterns, expanded from the practices of his predecessors Bernhard Romberg, Charles-Nicolas Baudiot, Jean-Louis Duport, and others. While his cello-writing reaches new heights of virtuosity, it comes from a refined temperament and is often sweet, melancholy or humorous, but never bombastic or angst-ridden. I discuss Franchomme’s innovations both in his cello technique and his compositions, including possible influences on and from Chopin, in the Introduction.

Franchomme’s Caprices, Op. 7 and Etudes, Op. 25 are in print and owned by many cellists. But many of his other works, included the compositions I selected for this volume, have been out of print since Franchomme’s death in 1884, if not longer.

This volume offers cellists charming, challenging new pieces to add to their concert repertoire. Several have great stories attached to them, as I explain in the Introduction. I included some of the works that are already becoming known through recordings released by Anner Bylsma, Roel Dieltiens, and myself. Also featured are some of Franchomme’s arrangements of Chopin’s piano works, as well as his collaboration with George Osborne. Due to the original research included, this volume should be of interest not only to cellists, but also to any scholar of string instrument technique, Chopin, and 19th century music in general.

Who was the guiding force in their creative collaborations, Franchomme or Chopin? Part One

©2017  Do not copy, publish or reproduce without the written permission of Louise Dubin

Because of this blog, I receive some interesting email queries. One that has come up a few times is the cross-influence of Chopin and Franchomme—to what extent, and in what direction?

For almost 2 centuries, many (including Schumann) have assumed that Chopin was the guiding force.  But in my Introduction to the freshly published Selected Works for Cello & Piano by Auguste Franchomme (May 2017, Dover Publications: click here for Table of Contents), I discuss some examples of how Franchomme may have influenced Chopin (and vice versa). I’ve posted some excerpts below. After an email discussion this week with my friend, the great pianist and pedagogue Sara Davis Buechner, I invited her to share her own observations on the same topic, from a pianist’s perspective. Stay tuned for her fascinating post!


From my Introduction© to the Dover volume:

“After Chopin’s death, Franchomme sorted through the hundreds of pages of manuscripts that Chopin left to him and prepared several posthumous works for publication, including the Mazurka, Op. 68, No. 4. He contributed to the complete Chopin editions prepared by Chopin’s pupils Tellefsen (1860) and Mikuli (1880), and helped edit the Breitkopf & Härtel Chopin edition (1878–1880). All of this exposure to Chopin’s music must have inspired Franchomme’s 50-odd arrangements of his solo piano works for various cello combinations (many unpublished), including the Nocturnes, Op. 55, and the 1870 arrangements included in this volume. Chopin was also the direct inspiration for some of Franchomme’s original compositions, including his gorgeous Trois Nocturnes, Op. 15 (1839, included here) …The nocturnes of both Chopin and Franchomme feature aria-like melodies over broken chords, and usually have a ternary structure. Franchomme was the first composer of nocturnes for cello in this form…”

“Franchomme also influenced the works that Chopin composed for the cello, both directly and perhaps indirectly. We know that Franchomme performed Chopin’s cello works with him, and suggested changes to his Introduction and Polonaise Brillante, Op. 3 that Chopin incorporated into subsequent published editions. Chopin played his Op. 65 with Franchomme privately before completing it, and likely incorporated Franchomme’s suggestions into the final publication. In addition, Franchomme’s decade of performances in the Théâtre-Italien certainly inspired his own music, and may also have contributed to Chopin’s fascination with the Italian aria, and his incorporation of this vocal style into his solo piano writing…”

Cross-influence between Chopin and Franchomme in fingerings, phrasing, and style- this is where it gets technical, y’all!

“…Franchomme’s years of playing with singers clearly informed some of his fingerings.”  For example, he “…relished slides under a slur on one string…which are rather out of style today and which even Duport had advised against except as a last resort, to avoid a ‘disagreeable sound.’”

Despite Duport’s warning, Franchomme apparently executed these slides with great taste. In the words of Henri Blanchard, “suave et pur, élégant et mélodique” (Revue et gazette musicale de Paris, April 25, 1841). Incidentally, similar vocal qualities in Chopin’s music were noticed by Charles Rosen! He wrote in The Romantic Generation that Chopin “composed with a sense of melody and a way of sustaining the melodic line derived directly from Italian Opera.”

In the Dover publication I also discuss “an even more remarkable fingering choice: Franchomme’s use of the same playing finger on several successive descending notes in a row. The most extreme example I have found occurs in his Fantasie sur Souvenirs de ‘Richard Coeur de Lion’ de Grétry, Op. 27, where he uses the third finger on a chromatic descent of 13 notes, probably a world record for a cello composition up to that point! Shorter examples of this unique fingering are found throughout Franchomme’s compositions (in this volume, see the three 4th fingers in the opening of his arrangement of Chopin’s Prelude, Op. 28, No. 20, four consecutive notes played with the 4th finger at the end of the introduction of his Op. 23, and the five consecutive descending third fingers in the opening Largo of his Op. 34). In Chopin’s own fingerings printed in his original publications, he often indicated using the same finger on consecutive notes in a melodic passage, for a supple cantabile led by the arm. Watching Chopin’s technique may have inspired these fingerings in Franchomme’s compositions. Or, perhaps Franchomme’s decade at the Théâtre-Italien contributed to Chopin’s own fascination with Italian arias and his incorporation of vocal techniques into his piano fingerings! (Interestingly, a comparison of Chopin’s fingerings to those indicated by Franchomme in his Chopin transcriptions reveals only that they both used this type of repeated fingering, but not in the same places.)”

“Franchomme’s works are full of… long slurs over many notes…[for example, his]  transcription of Chopin’s ‘Cello’ Etude in C Sharp minor, Op. 25, No. 7, (p. 178) is as faithful as possible to Chopin’s long phrase markings, within the parameters of what is possible on the cello….In combination with Franchomme’s tendency to use thumb and harmonic fingerings in melodic lines, these clues suggest a tendency toward faster tempos, and a style of performance favoring elegance over massive sound production,” which seems also to have described Chopin’s playing.

©2017 Louise Dubin


©2016 Do not copy, publish or reproduce without the written permission of Louise Dubin

When I performed in Paris in September, I was thrilled that about a dozen direct descendants of Auguste Franchomme were in attendance.  One of them presented me with this 1864 medal that had belonged to Franchomme—a real treasure!  This was Franchomme’s medal commemorating his service as a founding member of the The Société des Concerts du Conservatoire under François Habeneck. Both Franchomme and Habeneck were in the group from its inception in 1828.


At first I assumed it was a retirement gift, but Franchomme actually retired from the job 5 years later, on October 12, 1869, when his 2nd consecutive request for a year’s leave was turned down.  So there was probably a ceremony in 1864 at which all founding members were awarded these medals engraved individually with their names. (Unfortunately Habeneck was not among them, since he had died in 1849).

I have already written about Habeneck and the Concert Society of the Conservatoire elsewhere-

Suffice it to say, this was an important orchestra in Paris, and an important job for Franchomme. In addition to performing the solo part of the William Tell Overture countless times with this group as its principal cellist,* he also played all the Beethoven Symphonies (including the Paris premiere of Beethoven’s 9th), as well as premieres of works by Mendelssohn and Berlioz, and concertos by and with Chopin, Alkan, and Kalkbrenner. The Society’s concert series also is where Franchomme has his solo debut. He performed one of his own compositions, probably a Caprice without the optional cello accompaniment, in the concert on March 29, 1829. Here is what critic François-Joseph Fétis wrote in La Revue Musicale a few days after the concert (also discussed in the notes to my album The Franchomme Project):

Un jeune homme, un enfant, M. Franchomme, est venu, ignore, jouer sans pretention un solo de violoncelle, de manière à se mettre tout à coup sur la ligne des plus grands artistes. Il a dit un thême, sans aucun ornement, et toute l’assemblée fut transportée de plaisir…Trois, quatre, cinq salves d’applaudissemens ont à peine suffi pour exprimer le plaisir qu’avait éprouvé l’assemblée.

*(starting in 1846- before that time, he was 2nd cellist sitting next to his teacher, Martin Louis Pierre Norblin)

********************************************************************************Lorsque j’ai joué à Paris en Septembre, j’etais ravie de voir que environ une douzaine de descendants directs d’Auguste Franchomme étaient présents. Un d’eux m’a présenté cette médaille datant de 1864, qui avait appartenue à Franchomme—un vrai trésor!

Voici l’information que j’ai apprise à propos de la médaille: ce fut la médaille de Franchomme commémorant son service comme membre fondateur de La Société des Concerts du Conservatoire. Il était avec l’orchestre depuis son commencement par François Habeneck en 1828.

La médaille est datée 1864; 5 ans avant la retraite de Franchomme, le 12 Octobre 1869, quand sa 2ème demande de prolongation d’activité a été rejetée. Donc, une ceremonie a probablement eu lieu en 1864, au cours de laquelle tous les membres fondateurs ont reçus ces médailles gravées individuellement avec leurs noms. (Habeneck ne figurait pas parmi eux, puisqu’il était malheureusement décédé en 1849).

J’ai déjà écrit à propos de Habeneck et la Société dans les postes mentionné ci-dessus. Bref, ce fut un orchestre important à Paris, et un boulot important pour Franchomme. En plus de jouer la partie solo de l’Ouverture de Guillaume Tell d’innombrables fois avec ce groupe comme violoncelliste solo*, il a joué toutes les symphonies de Beethoven (y compris la Première a Paris de la 9ème de Beethoven), aussi bien que les Premières des œuvres de Mendelssohn et Berlioz, et les concertos par et avec Chopin, Alkan et Kalkbrenner. Dans l’un des premiers concerts de la Société, Franchomme a été présenté à Paris comme soliste lui-même, jouant l’une de ses propres compositions, probablement un Caprice, dans le concert le 29 Mars, 1829.  Voici ce qu’a écrit le critique François-Joseph Fétis dans La Revue Musicale quelques jours après le concert (aussi dans mes notes de l’album The Franchomme Project):
“Un jeune homme, un enfant, M. Franchomme, est venu, ignore, jouer sans pretention un solo de violoncelle, de manière à se mettre tout à coup sur la ligne des plus grands artistes. Il a dit un thême, sans aucun ornement, et toute l’assemblée fut transportée de plaisir…Trois, quatre, cinq salves d’applaudissemens ont à peine suffi pour exprimer le plaisir qu’avait éprouvé l’assemblée.”

*(à partir de 1846- avant ce temps, il était 2ème violoncelle, à côté de son prof, Martin Louis Pierre Norblin.)

Franchomme’s Etude #2

©2016 Do not copy, publish or reproduce without the written permission of Louise Dubin

The Conservatoire Concert Society Orchestra in Paris was known for reviving Beethoven, and one of his pieces they particularly loved to program was the Coriolan Overture. The other day I counted how many times they played the piece since the group’s first year, 1828. I stopped counting in 1847, the year Franchomme became the group’s principal cellist (when his teacher Norblin retired), but here’s the list:

1828 May 11

1830 Apr 11

1832 March 18

1833 May 5

1836 April 1

1837 March 24

1840 April 26

1845 January 26

Franchomme played all of these performances as a member of the illustrious group’s cello section, usually sitting next to his teacher Norblin. In 1855 Franchomme published his 12 Etudes Pour le Violoncelle avec Accompagnement d’un Seconde. (They are often played without the accompanying cello, but sound better with it!). The Etude #2, in my strong opinion, was inspired by the chief motive of the Coriolan Overture (first appearing in m. 15 and played by the cello section in m. 22). Same bowing, same tempo, and later in the Etude, similar spooky Beethoven-ish harmony. Compare them yourself and see if you agree! One recording of Franchomme’s Etude #2 is my own, with the accompaniment played by cellist Katherine Cherbas. This track is not on my recent album, The Franchomme Project (Delos), but if you buy the album directly from my website, you’ll receive it as a bonus download, and its sound quality is identical to the CD’s.  Or come hear me play it tonight (see my other post from today)!

Look Ma, no endpin! Franchomme versus Servais

©2015 Do not copy, publish or reproduce without the written permission of Louise Dubin

In the engraving of the Alard-Franchomme Quartet at the head of this blog, we can see that Franchomme is playing his Duport Strad (more info about it in my earlier post) using a basically modern bow grip (just a bit higher on the stick) and NO endpin. He held the cello off the floor with his calves, which given the difficulty of his compositions is a remarkable thing.  According his late descendant, M. Laurent Pénicaud, Franchomme refused to use an endpin because he thought it made the cello sound unnatural.  He also refused to let his students at the Conservatoire use them, even as they were becoming widely adapted elsewhere due to the influence of the Belgian cellist Servais.  I’ve included a never-published photo (from the collection of his descendants) of an elder Franchomme sitting with his endpin-less cello in the forthcoming Dover Selected Works for Cello and Piano by Auguste Franchomme.

Servais was a large man with a large tone who played a large 1701 Strad with its own fascinating history. And apparently, Servais was a man who liked to eat.  Some have theorized that for Servais, the endpin may have become a real necessity for him to navigate the cello around his rotund belly! And, it may have enabled Servais to come across as more outgoing performer. Contemporary music critic Henri Blanchard, in his desire to differentiate Franchomme from Servais, called Franchomme elegantly precise but cold, and Servais passionate but out of tune:

Franchomme can be called the king of the French school of cello playing….he plays the cello in a manner that is elegant, easy, clean, but without inspiration or passion. His style is pure, but cold…[in contrast] Servais, head of the Belgian school… has a generous manner; he sings with expression on his instrument, but his intonation is not very accurate, a pretty common fault of cellists. Franchomme peut passer a juste titre pour le chef, pour le roi de l’ecole francais…[il] joue de violoncelle d’une maniere elegante, facile, nette, mais sans inspiration, sans passion. Son style est pur, mais froid…. Servais, chef de l’ecole belge avec Batta… il ya a de l’ampleur dans sa maniere; il chante avec expression sur son instrument, mais son intonation n’est pas tres sure, defaut assez ordinaire aux violoncellistes.”

Revue et Gazette Musicale, 1842

Probably out of respect for Franchomme’s opinion, endpins were not used at the Paris Conservatoire until 1884. It is probably no coincidence that 1884 happens to be the year when Franchomme died, and his student Jules Delsart took over the cello class there. (Delsart is most remembered today for his cello transcription of Franck’s violin sonata in A major). Even after the endpin became officially accepted at the Conservatoire, other illustrious cellists in the late 1800s refused to play with one, including Piatti and Grutzmacher.