Travelling so far away, one is led to reflect deeply and to appreciate all,
whatever it may be, for its true value…
It’s this collection of hidden virtues in which I was raised
that saves me from frightful banality and pettiness…
This also makes me judgemental… and it’s not always amusing!…
—Letter of March 17, 1955 to Étienne and Madeleine Demessieux
Extremely tiring journey—as hard for the morale
as for the body in a country so different from Europe.
The life of an artist is hard, too,
because it’s necessary not only to work but also to “represent,”
endure interviews, constantly supply ideas concerning French art generally, be hosted…
—1955 letter (undated) to Yolande
Like these quotations from letters, the entries in Demessieux’s diaries from her North American recital tours are peppered with more complaints than praise. They are typically about her travelling conditions, the casual manners of many of the people she met, and the extra functions her hosts pressed upon her. As Demessieux wrote to her sister in the second excerpt quoted above, it was tiring being “in a country so different from Europe.” Consequently, to a reader of her travel diaries, especially a modern one, she frequently appears to be not only judgemental but haughty and condescending. For example, in her 1955 diary, Demessieux recorded her reactions to people she met following a New York recital in these unflattering terms:
Afterward, I was treated as an exotic animal [bête curieuse]. Men look at you a certain way, women in another. A disreputable looking group of the latter offered me a handful of flowers, taking me by the waist. No one was likeable. The Colberts did not even come! I returned alone, driven back by Giles and, for obvious reasons, I brooded and read until quite late (February 7, 1955).
My reading of Demessieux’s travel diaries maintains the understanding that she wrote at the end of long, arduous days. I believe it is also important to keep in mind that she did not expect these diaries to be read by others, or at least not outside her family.
Compared to how Demessieux comes across in some of her diary entries, how would she have appeared to others? Judging from my conversations with Pierre Labric and Madeleine Chacun in 2003, in social relationships Demessieux was always as benevolent and gracious as her musicianship was brilliant. This is also attested to by those individuals who contributed essays to Jeanne Demessieux: Témoignages de ses Élèves et Amis, published by Les Amis de Jeanne Demessieux in 1998 for the thirtieth anniversary of Demessieux’s death. In his contribution to the collection, Labric (b. 1921) noted,
Jeanne Demessieux, in the midst of her most brilliant triumphs, never lost this natural simplicity that presented such charm to any with whom she came in contact.
A testimonial by the French composer Jean Aubain (1928–2015) is similarly appreciative. As a young musician growing up in Bordeaux, he had pulled stops during Demessieux’s recitals at Bordeaux Cathedral and was impressed by her calm comportment, even under pressure. After he moved to Paris in 1950, Aubain frequently visited her in the organ gallery of St-Esprit and recalls that Demessieux was always kind and welcoming towards him—even willing to answer his questions about music composition. Aubain contrasts these experiences with having heard people say that Demessieux was “distant and cold,” affirming that she was, rather, “serious and focused.”
In conversation with Labric, I asked him why some might have regarded her manner as distant and cold. He replied that Demessieux, having dedicated her life to her art, always thought on a higher plane than did the average person: “Jeanne Demessieux did not live on earth but on another planet.”
This is not surprising: the Jeanne Demessieux who thought on a higher plane was accustomed to conversing on elevated topics with Marcel Dupré (as mentioned in the diary of 1940–1946) and, consequently, wearied by discussions that involved uninteresting people on petty topics. In her 1940s diary she had written:
Tea party at the home of Mme Meunier. Around twenty people. Select society. Some young people. I died of boredom chatting about rubbish (January 29, 1944).
However, chances are that despite the feelings to which she gave vent in her diary, she maintained a polite manner at that tea party.
In 1950s North America, too, Demessieux encountered levels of conversation that were poles apart. In California, of time spent with Darius Milhaud and his wife, she reported to her parents,
For dinner, they [the Milhauds] had invited an excellent organist, [a] student of Langlais. There was also a composer. Unaffectedness, spontaneous affinity [and] at last wit… (March 2, 1955).
In contrast, on the way to a recital, when someone tried to engage her in conversation on a banal topic such as “‘shirtwaist dresses’ launched in France,” Demessieux tactfully responded that she “didn’t yet have an opinion” (March 3, 1958). Arguably, what would have mattered here was her tone of voice: amicable or cold?
Both good and bad judgements—of people’s conduct as well as organs—abound in the travel diaries. The customary after-concert receptions in North America, with their “interminable parade of audience members, small, fancy cakes, etc.” (February 19, 1955) were the most trying for Demessieux. As was mentioned above, during these she was repeatedly astonished at people’s casual behaviour, which seemed boorish to her. Even French people living abroad came in for criticism, in their case for being “snobs” (February 12, 1958). Audiences, on the other hand, she frequently praised, as in,
Unforgettable evening: perfect, intelligent audience, so much so that I dared give my Te Deum as an encore . . . (February 16, 1958).
Organs Demessieux played ranged from “huge and ugly” at First Presbyterian Church, Glens Falls (February 5, 1955) to “one of the most beautiful that I have [ever] played” at First Presbyterian Church, Fort Wayne (March 11, 1958).
Though diary entries are frequently critical of North Americans and their customs, some of the letters, particularly those to her parents, describe the many things that pleased Demessieux. According to a letter of February 5, 1953 from New York City, she was happy with her reception there, not only by the audience for her recital but by the music store Patelson’s, the publisher Gray, and U.S. representatives of Decca. In particular, she was gratified to see that Patelson’s carried every one of her recordings, including the latest. Similarly, in a letter of February 17, 1955, Demessieux delighted in the discovery that her recordings are “known everywhere.” Even though when travelling, she generally found herself “exasperated by material things,” she also found positive features of train travel in North America: “I spend my nights in sleeping cars—fortunately, very comfortably” (March 21, 1953). She also valued privacy:
[t]he roomette is terrific because one can closet oneself for the entire journey if one wishes, in front of loads of buttons for automation: air conditioning, ventilation, lights, hot water and cold water, ice (for drinks), paper cups, napkins, soap” (February 17, 1955).
Moreover, when travelling by train, Demessieux could enjoy the scenery. According to a letter to her parents of February 25, 1953, she had “crossed some magnificent regions” while journeying between Chicago and New Orleans and then on to Austin.
During all three transcontinental tours, Demessieux especially enjoyed visiting California. For example, in an undated letter from 1955 she described the state as,
very Provence exagérée with its extraordinary sunsets, violet mountains, orange trees, flowering mimosas, camellias, palms, and fountains.
Unlike in her earlier diaries, Demessieux’s self-identity is always eminently self-assured in her travel diaries. For instance, when her assistant Claudine Verchère became tearful or frustrated in a difficult situation, Demessieux remained unflappable (February 4 and March 3, 1958). And when Liliane Murtagh of Colbert-Laberge chided her for taking a later train from New York to Newark than was down on her itinerary, Demessieux’s response was the opposite of apologizing:
Very self-possessed, I calmed her down and made it clear to her that I always do what I want (February 2, 1958).
Given that the travel diaries report many irksome incidents, it must arguably have come as a relief to Demessieux when she was, occasionally, able to write about something she found humorous, such as,
Comic incident: during the “intermission,” the priest climbed to the pulpit to say, “my brothers, so that you can rest for five minutes, you may stand up.” And standing up in their places, people turned to give me polite little smiles; then they sat back down again[,] and I continued (February 12, 1958).
Her entertaining description of the “big, strapping fellow in a yellow hat, loud tie, hands in his pockets, [who] bellowed straight away [with no introductions] “Hello!!… How are you?!…” from March 3, 1958 was likely intended to make her chuckle upon re-reading the diary, as was Demessieux’s recounting of a host organist who before the recital kept “wringing his hands saying . . . ‘I am so nervous…’” (March 6, 1958). Other times, irony shines through, as when, having been invited to dinner at the home of people of modest means, Demessieux stated, in a matter-of-fact way, “I helped in the preparation of the meal, covered by an apron” (February 17, 1955).
The Aftermath of the North American tours
The letters and diaries related to Demessieux’s North American tours contain a single reference to her physical well-being. In an undated letter to her sister Yolande (cited in the second quotation at the head of this chapter), written after her return from the 1955 tour, she goes on to state, “Amidst so many things, my health has held up!” This hints at Trieu-Colleney’s observations concerning Demessieux’s frequent infirmities during her career as a concert organist:
Jeanne sought always to overcome her illnesses that sometimes hindered her tours. She underwent numerous operations, minor, it is true, but often painful; this did not prevent her from giving recitals [just] hours afterward.
These remarks continue with the example of Demessieux performing on an unspecified day in Brussels for the Belgian queen, Elisabeth, shortly after having had an abscess in her throat lanced. Trieu-Colleney then adds that such incidents occurred frequently: engagements in California, at the Aix-en-Provence Festival, in Switzerland, and in the Netherlands were fulfilled despite recent operations.
Describing Demessieux’s activity as a recitalist, Trieu-Colleney notes that, upon her return home from each of the three North American tours in the 1950s, Demessieux was immediately plunged back into teaching and a gruelling schedule of performances. By 1961, that is, three years after her last North American tour and in consequence of her continuously taxing schedule, Demessieux was greatly fatigued. She never again travelled overseas, but continued to play in France and Europe, at a less exhausting pace.
A landmark in Demessieux’s career occurred in 1962, when she was named titular organist of the Church of the Madeleine in Paris, with its beautiful Cavaillé-Coll instrument. According to Trieu-Colleney, this at long last elevated Demessieux’s stature in Paris to the same height as she enjoyed in foreign countries.
Demessieux played her last recitals in 1967. According to Trieu-Colleney, by July 1968 her health had declined to the point that, amidst protestations that she felt perfectly well, she agreed to spend two days in a private clinic. It is not clear that Demessieux knew she had terminal cancer. In October she was hospitalized again, still thinking that she would soon return to work, though she never did.
Demessieux died on November 11, 1968. The next day, an anonymous writer summarized her achievements for readers of The Times of London in an obituary:
Jeanne Demessieux, the distinguished French organist, has died at the age of 47. For many years she was a brilliant virtuoso, a thoughtful, intelligent musician: and she was certainly the first woman ever to attain such eminence among the French organists who have dominated the world of organ playing since the time of César Franck.
Some of the highlights of Demessieux’s career are then given, including her frequent performances at the Royal Festival Hall in London. The author continues:
But aside from the depth and breadth of her career, Madame Demessieux was particularly remarkable for her success as a woman recitalist in what was previously a man’s world. Naturally she became notorious as the first famous organist to play the pedals with high heeled shoes: but her playing also had a feminine sensitivity and feeling that was rare in the 1940s, and especially valuable as an influence on the following generation.
She was the first woman ever invited to play at both Westminster Abbey and Westminster Cathedral, and it is poignant that her death should have occurred just after arrangements had been completed for her to play at the cathedral next year.
Also uncompleted at Demessieux’s death in November 1968 was a plan for her to record the complete organ works of Olivier Messiaen. Existence of such a scheme is attested to by correspondence between Van Wyck and Demessieux that stretches from September 1967 to April 1968, though this discussion probably began much earlier. The Messiaen project, which Van Wyck refers to as his “brainchild” in a letter of November 9, 1967, had by the autumn of 1967 received the approval of Messiaen himself (letter of October 2, 1967 from Olivier Messiaen to Jeanne Demessieux).
In correspondence with Van Wyck, even in early stages of negotiations with proposed record companies, Demessieux was very particular about details of the Messiaen venture. Her carbon copy of a letter of November 27, 1967 thanks Van Wyck for securing a promise from EMI Records that the recording would be distributed internationally. It then goes on to request additional stipulations: that the recording be in stereo; that Sceptre Records contact Messiaen concerning his honorarium for writing analytic notes on the music; that the fee paid to her by Sceptre Records be net of taxes and adjusted according to the current exchange rate between currencies; that she receive worldwide [underlined in the original] royalties of 7½ %.
Demessieux’s meticulousness also shines through in a draft of a contract between herself and Transcontinental Recordings Ltd. It contains numerous revisions in red pen, which, apparently, she also wrote into a copy returned to Van Wyck on April 9, 1968. For example, to a clause specifying that the artist would not, for seven years, perform the organ works of Messiaen for any other recording company, Demessieux added, “The artist will be free to record the works of all other composers for other companies.” She also deleted a clause stating that the artist, “for the purpose of these recordings . . . will carry out such direction during the performance thereof as thought fit by the company and by M. Olivier Messiaen, and substituted, “The recordings shall be made in stereophonic and be given worldwide distribution.” Moreover, Demessieux added three additional riders to the document. These concerned the exchange rate for paying her fee, payment of an organ technician to be present during the recording sessions, and her right to approve any newspaper articles and photographs to be used for publicity purposes. Judging from her dealings with Van Wyck and recording companies, Demessieux appears to have been a very astute businesswoman.
Whether a contract concerning the Messiaen recording project was ever signed, remains unclear, because surviving documents end with the revised draft dated April 9, 1968.
Demessieux’s reputation today
Though she did not record the organ works of Messiaen, Demessieux is remembered today for her splendid performances to be heard in the many recordings she did make. These include the complete organ works of Franck, selected works of Bach, Handel, and Liszt, and movements from larger compositions by Widor and Messiaen. In 2021 Decca reissued her recordings in a boxed set of eight CDs to mark the one-hundredth anniversary of Demessieux’s birth.
Demessieux also lives on today through her published compositions and performances of these, in recital and recorded. Immediately following her death, Demessieux’s principal interpreter was her faithful disciple, Pierre Labric. In 1974, he recorded Demessieux’s complete published works for solo organ for the Musical Heritage Society, and in 2017 the set was reissued on CD by Solstice.
A renewal of Demessieux’s reputation began in the 1990s, around the time that the Dutch record company Festivo released five CD albums compiling a selection of Demessieux’s recorded performances, some made by Decca and some by Dutch and German radio stations. Also since the 1990s, many organists following in Pierre Labric’s footsteps have drawn inspiration from Demessieux and gone on to perform and record her organ music. In 1994, U.K. organist D’Arcy Trinkwon gave a complete performance of Demessieux’s Six Études in concert, the first to do so since Demessieux herself and Labric. Organists from many countries have produced CDs entirely devoted to organ works of Demessieux: Michelle Leclerc (French), Maurizio Ciampi (Italian), Laura Ellis (American), Maxime Patel (French), Stephen Tharp (American), and Hampus Lindwall (Swedish-born, living in Paris). Incidentally, Patel’s and Tharp’s recordings comprise her complete œuvre for organ solo, including works that had not been published yet when Labric performed her works for LP.
Demessieux’s most recorded piece of all is her Te Deum for organ. A 2021 essay by Trinkwon surveys Demessieux’s organ compositions, going all the way back to her earliest piece for organ, Nativité, which the diary mentions was composed in December 1943. Trinkwon does not mention Demessieux’s Poème for organ and orchestra, Op. 9 of 1952, which, admittedly, has been least performed and recorded.
Occasional attention has also been paid to Demessieux’s compositions involving instruments other than organ. One is her large-scale choral work for sopranos, tenors, mezzo-soprano soloist, and orchestra, La Chanson de Roland, a poème lyrique en vingt chants (lyric poem in twenty songs). It was composed between 1951 and 1956, and remained in manuscript form until, in the 1990s, Demessieux’s former Dutch organ student Jean Wolfs prepared a performing edition. Published in 2000 by Alphonse Leduc as Demessieux’s Op. 10, this 45-minute work received its first performance in September 2000 at Aachen Cathedral in Germany. It was presented during an annual music festival and organ competition, L’Europe & l’Orgue, which that year was a joint project of the cities of Liège, Maastricht, and Aachen, overseen by Wolfs. Another is Demessieux’s three-movement Sonata for violin and piano, mentioned in her diary as composed in December-January, 1940–1941; it existed only in manuscript until it was published in 2013. Finally, there is Demessieux’s Ballade for horn and piano, Op. 12, published by Durand in 1962, and originally composed for that year’s Paris Conservatory horn competition. It was recorded in 2018.
In closing, if Yolande Demessieux could have time-travelled and seen the attention being paid to her sister’s legacy in the twenty-first century, I believe she would have felt gratified. My hope is that this present study will inspire another scholar to undertake a comprehensive English-language biography that draws upon Demessieux’s diaries, all her correspondence held by the Montpellier Archives, and all secondary sources, to weave together a chronological account of Jeanne Demessieux’s life and career. This will help us understand more fully the impact of women like her on French society, musical life, and, specifically, liturgical music, in twentieth-century France.
NOTES:
Travelling so far away, one is led to reflect deeply and to appreciate all,
whatever it may be, for its true value…
It’s this collection of hidden virtues in which I was raised
that saves me from frightful banality and pettiness…
This also makes me judgemental… and it’s not always amusing!…
—Letter of March 17, 1955 to Étienne and Madeleine Demessieux
Extremely tiring journey—as hard for the morale
as for the body in a country so different from Europe.
The life of an artist is hard, too,
because it’s necessary not only to work but also to “represent,”
endure interviews, constantly supply ideas concerning French art generally, be hosted…
—1955 letter (undated) to Yolande
Like these quotations from letters, the entries in Demessieux’s diaries from her North American recital tours are peppered with more complaints than praise. They are typically about her travelling conditions, the casual manners of many of the people she met, and the extra functions her hosts pressed upon her. As Demessieux wrote to her sister in the second excerpt quoted above, it was tiring being “in a country so different from Europe.” Consequently, to a reader of her travel diaries, especially a modern one, she frequently appears to be not only judgemental but haughty and condescending. For example, in her 1955 diary, Demessieux recorded her reactions to people she met following a New York recital in these unflattering terms:
Afterward, I was treated as an exotic animal [bête curieuse]. Men look at you a certain way, women in another. A disreputable looking group of the latter offered me a handful of flowers, taking me by the waist. No one was likeable. The Colberts did not even come! I returned alone, driven back by Giles1 and, for obvious reasons, I brooded and read until quite late (February 7, 1955).
My reading of Demessieux’s travel diaries maintains the understanding that she wrote at the end of long, arduous days. I believe it is also important to keep in mind that she did not expect these diaries to be read by others, or at least not outside her family.2
Compared to how Demessieux comes across in some of her diary entries, how would she have appeared to others? Judging from my conversations with Pierre Labric and Madeleine Chacun in 2003, in social relationships Demessieux was always as benevolent and gracious as her musicianship was brilliant.3 This is also attested to by those individuals who contributed essays to Jeanne Demessieux: Témoignages de ses Élèves et Amis, published by Les Amis de Jeanne Demessieux in 1998 for the thirtieth anniversary of Demessieux’s death.4 In his contribution to the collection, Labric (b. 1921) noted,
Jeanne Demessieux, in the midst of her most brilliant triumphs, never lost this natural simplicity that presented such charm to any with whom she came in contact.5
A testimonial by the French composer Jean Aubain (1928–2015) is similarly appreciative.6 As a young musician growing up in Bordeaux, he had pulled stops during Demessieux’s recitals at Bordeaux Cathedral and was impressed by her calm comportment, even under pressure. After he moved to Paris in 1950, Aubain frequently visited her in the organ gallery of St-Esprit and recalls that Demessieux was always kind and welcoming towards him—even willing to answer his questions about music composition. Aubain contrasts these experiences with having heard people say that Demessieux was “distant and cold,” affirming that she was, rather, “serious and focused.”
In conversation with Labric, I asked him why some might have regarded her manner as distant and cold. He replied that Demessieux, having dedicated her life to her art, always thought on a higher plane than did the average person: “Jeanne Demessieux did not live on earth but on another planet.”7
This is not surprising: the Jeanne Demessieux who thought on a higher plane was accustomed to conversing on elevated topics with Marcel Dupré (as mentioned in the diary of 1940–1946) and, consequently, wearied by discussions that involved uninteresting people on petty topics. In her 1940s diary she had written:
Tea party at the home of Mme Meunier. Around twenty people. Select society. Some young people. I died of boredom chatting about rubbish (January 29, 1944).
However, chances are that despite the feelings to which she gave vent in her diary, she maintained a polite manner at that tea party.
In 1950s North America, too, Demessieux encountered levels of conversation that were poles apart. In California, of time spent with Darius Milhaud and his wife, she reported to her parents,
For dinner, they [the Milhauds] had invited an excellent organist, [a] student of Langlais. There was also a composer. Unaffectedness, spontaneous affinity [and] at last wit… (March 2, 1955).8
In contrast, on the way to a recital, when someone tried to engage her in conversation on a banal topic such as “‘shirtwaist dresses’ launched in France,” Demessieux tactfully responded that she “didn’t yet have an opinion” (March 3, 1958). Arguably, what would have mattered here was her tone of voice: amicable or cold?
Both good and bad judgements—of people’s conduct as well as organs—abound in the travel diaries. The customary after-concert receptions in North America, with their “interminable parade of audience members, small, fancy cakes, etc.” (February 19, 1955) were the most trying for Demessieux. As was mentioned above, during these she was repeatedly astonished at people’s casual behaviour, which seemed boorish to her. Even French people living abroad came in for criticism, in their case for being “snobs” (February 12, 1958). Audiences, on the other hand, she frequently praised, as in,
Unforgettable evening: perfect, intelligent audience, so much so that I dared give my Te Deum as an encore . . . (February 16, 1958).
Organs Demessieux played ranged from “huge and ugly” at First Presbyterian Church, Glens Falls (February 5, 1955) to “one of the most beautiful that I have [ever] played” at First Presbyterian Church, Fort Wayne (March 11, 1958).
Though diary entries are frequently critical of North Americans and their customs, some of the letters, particularly those to her parents, describe the many things that pleased Demessieux. According to a letter of February 5, 1953 from New York City, she was happy with her reception there, not only by the audience for her recital but by the music store Patelson’s, the publisher Gray, and U.S. representatives of Decca. In particular, she was gratified to see that Patelson’s carried every one of her recordings, including the latest.9 Similarly, in a letter of February 17, 1955, Demessieux delighted in the discovery that her recordings are “known everywhere.” Even though when travelling, she generally found herself “exasperated by material things,” she also found positive features of train travel in North America: “I spend my nights in sleeping cars—fortunately, very comfortably” (March 21, 1953). She also valued privacy:
[t]he roomette is terrific because one can closet oneself for the entire journey if one wishes, in front of loads of buttons for automation: air conditioning, ventilation, lights, hot water and cold water, ice (for drinks), paper cups, napkins, soap” (February 17, 1955).
Moreover, when travelling by train, Demessieux could enjoy the scenery. According to a letter to her parents of February 25, 1953, she had “crossed some magnificent regions” while journeying between Chicago and New Orleans and then on to Austin.
During all three transcontinental tours, Demessieux especially enjoyed visiting California. For example, in an undated letter from 1955 she described the state as,
very Provence exagérée with its extraordinary sunsets, violet mountains, orange trees, flowering mimosas, camellias, palms, and fountains.
Unlike in her earlier diaries, Demessieux’s self-identity is always eminently self-assured in her travel diaries. For instance, when her assistant Claudine Verchère became tearful or frustrated in a difficult situation, Demessieux remained unflappable (February 4 and March 3, 1958). And when Liliane Murtagh of Colbert-Laberge chided her for taking a later train from New York to Newark than was down on her itinerary, Demessieux’s response was the opposite of apologizing:
Very self-possessed, I calmed her down and made it clear to her that I always do what I want (February 2, 1958).
Given that the travel diaries report many irksome incidents, it must arguably have come as a relief to Demessieux when she was, occasionally, able to write about something she found humorous, such as,
Comic incident: during the “intermission,” the priest climbed to the pulpit to say, “my brothers, so that you can rest for five minutes, you may stand up.” And standing up in their places, people turned to give me polite little smiles; then they sat back down again[,] and I continued (February 12, 1958).
Her entertaining description of the “big, strapping fellow in a yellow hat, loud tie, hands in his pockets, [who] bellowed straight away [with no introductions] “Hello!!… How are you?!…” from March 3, 1958 was likely intended to make her chuckle upon re-reading the diary, as was Demessieux’s recounting of a host organist who before the recital kept “wringing his hands saying . . . ‘I am so nervous…’” (March 6, 1958). Other times, irony shines through, as when, having been invited to dinner at the home of people of modest means, Demessieux stated, in a matter-of-fact way, “I helped in the preparation of the meal, covered by an apron” (February 17, 1955).
The Aftermath of the North American tours
The letters and diaries related to Demessieux’s North American tours contain a single reference to her physical well-being. In an undated letter to her sister Yolande (cited in the second quotation at the head of this chapter), written after her return from the 1955 tour, she goes on to state, “Amidst so many things, my health has held up!” This hints at Trieu-Colleney’s observations concerning Demessieux’s frequent infirmities during her career as a concert organist:
Jeanne sought always to overcome her illnesses that sometimes hindered her tours. She underwent numerous operations, minor, it is true, but often painful; this did not prevent her from giving recitals [just] hours afterward.10
These remarks continue with the example of Demessieux performing on an unspecified day in Brussels for the Belgian queen, Elisabeth, shortly after having had an abscess in her throat lanced. Trieu-Colleney then adds that such incidents occurred frequently: engagements in California, at the Aix-en-Provence Festival, in Switzerland, and in the Netherlands were fulfilled despite recent operations.11
Describing Demessieux’s activity as a recitalist, Trieu-Colleney notes that, upon her return home from each of the three North American tours in the 1950s, Demessieux was immediately plunged back into teaching and a gruelling schedule of performances.12 By 1961, that is, three years after her last North American tour and in consequence of her continuously taxing schedule, Demessieux was greatly fatigued. She never again travelled overseas, but continued to play in France and Europe, at a less exhausting pace.13
A landmark in Demessieux’s career occurred in 1962, when she was named titular organist of the Church of the Madeleine in Paris, with its beautiful Cavaillé-Coll instrument. According to Trieu-Colleney, this at long last elevated Demessieux’s stature in Paris to the same height as she enjoyed in foreign countries.14
Demessieux played her last recitals in 1967. According to Trieu-Colleney, by July 1968 her health had declined to the point that, amidst protestations that she felt perfectly well, she agreed to spend two days in a private clinic.15 It is not clear that Demessieux knew she had terminal cancer.16 In October she was hospitalized again, still thinking that she would soon return to work, though she never did.
Demessieux died on November 11, 1968. The next day, an anonymous writer summarized her achievements for readers of The Times of London in an obituary:
Jeanne Demessieux, the distinguished French organist, has died at the age of 47. For many years she was a brilliant virtuoso, a thoughtful, intelligent musician: and she was certainly the first woman ever to attain such eminence among the French organists who have dominated the world of organ playing since the time of César Franck.17
Some of the highlights of Demessieux’s career are then given, including her frequent performances at the Royal Festival Hall in London. The author continues:
But aside from the depth and breadth of her career, Madame Demessieux was particularly remarkable for her success as a woman recitalist in what was previously a man’s world. Naturally she became notorious as the first famous organist to play the pedals with high heeled shoes: but her playing also had a feminine sensitivity and feeling that was rare in the 1940s, and especially valuable as an influence on the following generation.
She was the first woman ever invited to play at both Westminster Abbey and Westminster Cathedral, and it is poignant that her death should have occurred just after arrangements had been completed for her to play at the cathedral next year.
Also uncompleted at Demessieux’s death in November 1968 was a plan for her to record the complete organ works of Olivier Messiaen. Existence of such a scheme is attested to by correspondence between Van Wyck and Demessieux that stretches from September 1967 to April 1968, though this discussion probably began much earlier.18 The Messiaen project, which Van Wyck refers to as his “brainchild” in a letter of November 9, 1967, had by the autumn of 1967 received the approval of Messiaen himself (letter of October 2, 1967 from Olivier Messiaen to Jeanne Demessieux).
In correspondence with Van Wyck, even in early stages of negotiations with proposed record companies, Demessieux was very particular about details of the Messiaen venture. Her carbon copy of a letter of November 27, 1967 thanks Van Wyck for securing a promise from EMI Records that the recording would be distributed internationally. It then goes on to request additional stipulations: that the recording be in stereo; that Sceptre Records contact Messiaen concerning his honorarium for writing analytic notes on the music; that the fee paid to her by Sceptre Records be net of taxes and adjusted according to the current exchange rate between currencies; that she receive worldwide [underlined in the original] royalties of 7½ %.
Demessieux’s meticulousness also shines through in a draft of a contract between herself and Transcontinental Recordings Ltd.19 It contains numerous revisions in red pen, which, apparently, she also wrote into a copy returned to Van Wyck on April 9, 1968. For example, to a clause specifying that the artist would not, for seven years, perform the organ works of Messiaen for any other recording company, Demessieux added, “The artist will be free to record the works of all other composers for other companies.” She also deleted a clause stating that the artist, “for the purpose of these recordings . . . will carry out such direction during the performance thereof as thought fit by the company and by M. Olivier Messiaen, and substituted, “The recordings shall be made in stereophonic and be given worldwide distribution.” Moreover, Demessieux added three additional riders to the document. These concerned the exchange rate for paying her fee, payment of an organ technician to be present during the recording sessions, and her right to approve any newspaper articles and photographs to be used for publicity purposes. Judging from her dealings with Van Wyck and recording companies, Demessieux appears to have been a very astute businesswoman.
Whether a contract concerning the Messiaen recording project was ever signed, remains unclear, because surviving documents end with the revised draft dated April 9, 1968.
Demessieux’s reputation today
Though she did not record the organ works of Messiaen, Demessieux is remembered today for her splendid performances to be heard in the many recordings she did make. These include the complete organ works of Franck, selected works of Bach, Handel, and Liszt, and movements from larger compositions by Widor and Messiaen. In 2021 Decca reissued her recordings in a boxed set of eight CDs to mark the one-hundredth anniversary of Demessieux’s birth.20
Demessieux also lives on today through her published compositions and performances of these, in recital and recorded. Immediately following her death, Demessieux’s principal interpreter was her faithful disciple, Pierre Labric. In 1974, he recorded Demessieux’s complete published works for solo organ for the Musical Heritage Society, and in 2017 the set was reissued on CD by Solstice.21
A renewal of Demessieux’s reputation began in the 1990s, around the time that the Dutch record company Festivo released five CD albums compiling a selection of Demessieux’s recorded performances, some made by Decca and some by Dutch and German radio stations.22 Also since the 1990s, many organists following in Pierre Labric’s footsteps have drawn inspiration from Demessieux and gone on to perform and record her organ music. In 1994, U.K. organist D’Arcy Trinkwon gave a complete performance of Demessieux’s Six Études in concert, the first to do so since Demessieux herself and Labric.23 Organists from many countries have produced CDs entirely devoted to organ works of Demessieux: Michelle Leclerc (French), Maurizio Ciampi (Italian), Laura Ellis (American), Maxime Patel (French), Stephen Tharp (American), and Hampus Lindwall (Swedish-born, living in Paris).24 Incidentally, Patel’s and Tharp’s recordings comprise her complete œuvre for organ solo, including works that had not been published yet when Labric performed her works for LP.25
Demessieux’s most recorded piece of all is her Te Deum for organ.26 A 2021 essay by Trinkwon surveys Demessieux’s organ compositions, going all the way back to her earliest piece for organ, Nativité, which the diary mentions was composed in December 1943.27 Trinkwon does not mention Demessieux’s Poème for organ and orchestra, Op. 9 of 1952, which, admittedly, has been least performed and recorded.28
Occasional attention has also been paid to Demessieux’s compositions involving instruments other than organ. One is her large-scale choral work for sopranos, tenors, mezzo-soprano soloist, and orchestra, La Chanson de Roland, a poème lyrique en vingt chants (lyric poem in twenty songs). It was composed between 1951 and 1956, and remained in manuscript form until, in the 1990s, Demessieux’s former Dutch organ student Jean Wolfs prepared a performing edition. Published in 2000 by Alphonse Leduc as Demessieux’s Op. 10, this 45-minute work received its first performance in September 2000 at Aachen Cathedral in Germany. It was presented during an annual music festival and organ competition, L’Europe & l’Orgue, which that year was a joint project of the cities of Liège, Maastricht, and Aachen, overseen by Wolfs.29 Another is Demessieux’s three-movement Sonata for violin and piano, mentioned in her diary as composed in December-January, 1940–1941; it existed only in manuscript until it was published in 2013.30 Finally, there is Demessieux’s Ballade for horn and piano, Op. 12, published by Durand in 1962, and originally composed for that year’s Paris Conservatory horn competition. It was recorded in 2018.31
In closing, if Yolande Demessieux could have time-travelled and seen the attention being paid to her sister’s legacy in the twenty-first century, I believe she would have felt gratified. My hope is that this present study will inspire another scholar to undertake a comprehensive English-language biography that draws upon Demessieux’s diaries, all her correspondence held by the Montpellier Archives, and all secondary sources, to weave together a chronological account of Jeanne Demessieux’s life and career. This will help us understand more fully the impact of women like her on French society, musical life, and, specifically, liturgical music, in twentieth-century France.32
NOTES: