Category Archives: Scholarly

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

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 The Introduction includes a good representation of my research, as well as some unpublished photos from Franchomme’s descendants.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

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 have assumed that Chopin was the guiding force. When Franchomme’s early collaboration with Chopin, the Grand Duo Concertant sur “Robert le Diable” de Meyerbeer was published in 1833, Schumann wrote that he doubted Franchomme had much contribution apart from putting his name to the title page! My examination of the manuscripts at the BnF disproves Schumann’s snide statement; but more on that another time.

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 next week!


From my Introduction:

“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 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). Vocal qualities in Chopin’s music are mentioned by Charles Rosen, who 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.” Sara Davis Buechner discusses this in more detail, as you will see in her upcoming post!

“An even more remarkable fingering choice is 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.



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

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

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.

Franchomme’s famous Stradivarius cello, how he acquired it, and what compositions were (and weren’t) played on it

Last month, I completed my introduction to the forthcoming Dover publication of selected works for cello and piano by Auguste Franchomme. There were some great stories that I just couldn’t fit within their word limit. Here are some, to give you an idea of what else you can read when the score comes out.  I’ll post another one very soon.

One of the 2 images heading this blog is the only known depiction of Franchomme performing-  a plate from an 1877 book written by one of his former cello students, Antoine Vidal,*  showing an older Franchomme performing with the Alard Quartet. Violinist Jean-Delphin Alard (1815-1888) was, like Franchomme, the son of an amateur musician father, and like Franchomme, taught at the Conservatoire. In 1847, Alard had begun a new chamber music society, the Société Alard and Franchomme—partly to phase out his previous group’s cellist, Pierre-Alexandre Chevillard, who unlike Alard wanted to perform Beethoven’s late quartets, and proceeded to do so in his next group. Alard’s new group with Franchomme performed sonatas, trios, quartets, and quintets of Mozart, Haydn, and (early-middle period) Beethoven; the last two Beethoven cello sonatas were never performed by Franchomme, as far as I’ve seen, although my search has not been exhaustive. The society lasted, with many guest artists around the core of Alard and Franchomme, until 1870, by which time it had developed into the most prestigious chamber music series in Paris (there were at least four others in 1864).  The other musicians in the engraving sitting to Franchomme’s left are violist Desire Trombetta and violinist Jules Garcin.

Alard happened to be the son-in-law of Jean-Baptiste Vuillaume, the renowned Parisian luthier and instrument dealer who helped Franchomme acquire the 1711 Duport Stradivarius cello, which he is playing in the engraving. (Vuillaume also made a small cello for René Franchomme, Auguste’s son, who was already a fine cellist and budding composer when he died at age 18). The Duport Strad had been owned and played by both of the Duport brothers, and Anner Bylsma calls it the “greatest cello ever made.” Early on, it came close to serious damage in the Tuileries Palace, where Jean-Louis Duport was performing as solo cellist of the court of the Emperor. Napoleon seized the cello from Duport, put it between his legs (dangerously close to his sharp riding spurs!) and said, “How the devil do you play this thing, Duport?” Fortunately, Duport said “Sir” in such a dire tone that Napoleon stopped his jesting immediately and returned the cello to Duport.

The Duport Strad was handed down to Jean-Louis Duport’s son, who played the instrument as the principal cellist of Lyon for a few years before establishing himself in Paris as a piano builder. He at first had no interest in selling the cello. Jean-Baptiste Vuillaume had told Franchomme, “vous êtes le successeur de Duport; vous seul devriez posséder son instrument.” In 1842, the cello was finally put on the market for an unprecedented price: either 22,000 francs (according to Franchomme’s descendants) or 25,000 francs (according to other sources). Franchomme struggled to come up with this amount, but somehow bought it the following year, possibly with the help of his wife’s dowry.

Franchomme’s daughter Cécile sold it to Hill and Sons in London in 1892 for 40,000 francs. Rostropovich played on this incredible cello for many years, and in fact he used it to record both Chopin’s Op. 65 Sonata and his Introduction and Polonaise Brillante. Franchomme performed both pieces with Chopin, using the same cello. Despite rumors that it was sold in 2008 for 20 million dollars to Japan’s Nippon Foundation, it is apparently still in the hands of Rostropovich’s survivors.

*Plate LXXXVIII, “Musique de chambre en 1878,” Volume 3 of Antoine Vidal’s Les Instruments A Archet: Les feseurs, Les Joueurs D’Instrument, avec planche gravées a l’eau-forte par Frederic Hillemacher. Paris: Imprimerie de J. Claye, 1877-78. Reproduced with permission of Eda Kuhn Loeb Music Library, Harvard University.

Found on Ebay for 6 bucks! A piece dedicated to Franchomme by a friend of his and Chopin’s

My most recent research trip to France was in fall 2011, and the materials I brought back from this trip and my earlier one are going to keep me busy for years.  Which is good, because there isn’t much on the internet, as readers of this blog already know. But occasionally, this IS something amazing on the web– case in point, a friend alerted me to a beat up “Franchomme Rondo” for sale on Ebay for $6, in its original French edition.  Not having heard of a Rondo by Franchomme, I bought it of course! This is now the oldest piece of sheet music I own- it turned out to be an 1833 publication by Jules Forest, a lawyer and amateur cellist, violinist and conductor who met Franchomme after one of Franchomme’s concerts.  They became good friends, and Franchomme’s time spent at the Forest Touraine house, le Côteau, probably inspired his daughter to buy a property in the same region.  (See my photos of both houses at Jules’ daughter, Adele, met Chopin in Paris in 1833 and a few weeks later, it was arranged that Chopin take a holiday with Franchomme at le Côteau, where Adele took a few piano lessons with Chopin. More importantly, she was the dedicatee of the compositional collaboration between Franchomme and Chopin, the Grand Duo Concertant on Themes from Meyerbeer’s Robert le Diable, which was presented to her and her cello-playing father on this visit. In September 1833, Chopin and Franchomme performed the Grand Duo in Tours (nine miles from Le Côteau), at a concert arranged by Jules Forest, in what may have been its first performance. There is a well-known (published) letter from Chopin to Franchomme written after his reluctant departure from his holiday, reminiscing about le Côteau and the game he and Franchomme had played with the local peasant girls in a barn, among other things.  But back to the Forest Rondo- before any of this happened, earlier in 1833, Jules Forest dedicated this technically challenging work to Franchomme.  The Pleyel publication features Franchomme’s name prominently (see image below), but leaves out this poem dedication that Forest wrote on the manuscript:

Franchomme, c’est à toi que ce Rondo s’adresse,

Il est bien en dessous de tout ce que tu fais,

Mais sous tes doigts, appuis de sa faiblesse,

Il peut encore avoir quelque succès.

Par ton dévoué et sincère ami,

J. Forest

27 juin 1833
So sad this poem wasn’t published – too self-derogatory maybe?  Franchomme would honor Jules Forest in return in 1841, by dedicating to Forest his own very challenging work, the Adagio and Bolero.

Jules Forest Rondo