Marie Jaëll (1846 – 1925)
Une quête d’infini (A Quest for Infinity)
Quatuor avec piano en Sol mineur (1875)
Dans un rêve, pour violon, violoncelle et piano (c. 1881)
Romance pour violon avec accompagnement de piano (1882)
Ballade, pour piano et violon (1886)
Manon Galy (violin), Léa Hennino (viola), Héloise Luzzati (cello), Célia Oneto Bensaid (piano)
rec, 2025, Maison de l’Orchestre national de l’Île-de-France, Paris, France
La Boîte à Pépites BAP12 [61]

In recent years, the French label La Boîte à Pépites has done sterling work in bringing to our attention, through excellent recordings, the music of various female composers whose work has not hitherto obtained due recognition. I’ve heard most of these discs and have often found them revelatory. If you click here you’ll find an index of our various reviews of the label’s discs.

The latest composer on whom the spotlight has been shone is Marie Jaëll. To date, her music has been scantily represented on disc, though some of her pieces were included in the invaluable set, Compositrices, which Jonathan Woolf reviewed in 2023; there are no duplications between that set and the present disc.

Some biographical information may be helpful if, like me, until this album arrived, you know little of Marie Jaëll’s life. For this information I am indebted to the very thorough booklet essay by Jean-François Boukobza. She was born Marie Trautmann in Steinseltz, Alsace. Marie studied piano in Stuttgart, Strasbourg & Paris; it is clear that she was a gifted student. Furthermore, throughout her life it appears she had great intellectual curiosity; she was widely read in other disciplines beyond music. After completion of her studies, Marie pursued a very successful performing career; between 1855 and 1866, the year of her marriage, she gave some 200 concerts. As Boukobza puts it, she was “lauded by the press and invited to perform in the most prestigious venues” – and not just in France. In 1866 she married Alfred Jaëll (1832-1882), an Austrian virtuoso pianist and composer. Unlike some husbands of the time, he encouraged her; indeed, they often performed together. Unfortunately, their married life was cut short by Alfred’s sudden death in 1882.   Boukobza says that Marie’s performing career peaked in the early 1890s. At around this time she sought to express herself through composition and she took private lessons with both Franck and Saint-Saëns. Thereafter, she devoted herself to composition and with success: she was one of the first women admitted to the Society of Music Composers of Paris. Surprisingly, perhaps, her compositional career was short: Boukobza says that she stopped composing in 1894. He speculates that this cessation of composition may have been due to a number of factors. Perhaps, he says, she felt discouraged; perhaps “her eternally doubt-filled temperament drove her to constantly revise her scores”; maybe she felt out of sympathy with the music which by then was being produced by the likes of Fauré, Satie and Debussy; or possibly her “newfound passion” for pedagogy took over – she wrote some ten books of pedagogical theory between 1896 and 1910. The First World War deeply affected her and she withdrew more and more into an ascetic and private life until her death in 1925. She left a catalogue of some 70 compositions.

The works are here presented in chronological order of composition. I hope it won’t be thought perverse if I consider them in the reverse order so as to finish with the most substantial work on the programme.

The latest composition is the Ballade, which dates from 1886. I was interested to see that Jaëll described it as being for piano and violin, rather than the other way round. In fact, the violin is very prominent, though the pianist is an equal partner. Jean-François Boukobza says that there’s no known story or programme behind the work, though I had the impression of a narrative thread. The piece consists of a number of short episodes, although I didn’t feel it was disjointed; in that regard, I’m sure the strongly profiled playing of Manon Galy and Célia Oneto Bensaid was a factor. At the start of the piece, which here plays for 13:05, there’s a short Andantino, distinguished by a long, soulful violin melody (played entirely on the G string, I think). Manon Galy plays this most expressively. At 2:53, the main Allegro arrives seamlessly; Ms Galy launches this with another extended, lyrical melody. Thereafter, the piece is woven together successfully by Jaëll; I think it’s a convincing work. Galy and Bensaid give a very persuasive account of it.

They also perform the 1882 Romance. Apparently, this short piece (6:05 in this performance) exists also in an orchestral version. Moreover, what is played on this disc is the second edition of the version for violin and piano; it differs quite a bit from the first edition, I gather. It’s a short, lyrical creation. It would be unfair and unkind of me to describe it as a salon piece. That said, its purpose is clearly to provide elegant entertainment. That’s certainly what Galy and Bensaid offer.

They’re joined by cellist Héloise Luzzati for Dans un rêve, composed around 1881. Though the piece lasts only 7:27, it’s divided into three distinct movements. The first is elegant and suave. The second is aptly described by Jean-François Boukobza as having a “serene, contemplative mood”. The music is characterised by lyrical, graceful lines form the stringed instruments over a constantly rippling piano part. The concluding movement is a light, airy dance. In total, Dans un rêve isn’t a substantial work but it’s enjoyable.

The major offering on this programme is the Piano Quartet in G minor (1875). Jean-François Boukobza tells us that the first three of the four movements originated in an earlier string quartet. Jaëll reworked the first three movements of the earlier quartet and composed an entirely new finale. Boukobza describes the first subject of the opening movement (Allegro) as “quite severe”; I wouldn’t necessarily disagree, though I wonder if ‘serious’ might be an alternative description. Be that as it may, before long the music relaxes and at 1:57 we hear the suave second subject announced by the violin. These two themes are used by Jaëll as the basis for an extensive movement (12:05 in this performance). I find it interesting that the origins of this music lie in a work conceived for string quartet because throughout the work the piano has a prominent role. That’s certainly true of the first movement where the composer makes very effective use of the bass register of that instrument when the music is strong in utterance. The second movement (Andante) has a lovely opening; we hear the piano alone at first, in graceful, pensive music; eventually, the other instruments join in. There’s a different character from 2:06, when Jaëll introduces her second subject; this relies extensively on dotted rhythms, giving the music something of a martial air. For me, the highlight of the movement – and, indeed, the whole work – begins at 6:38 when Jaëll allows us to hear one last time the music with which the movement began. These hushed closing pages have a great tranquillity and it seems to me that the music is significantly enhanced by the great sensitivity with which these four musicians play the passage.

The short Allegro scherzando third movement is vivacious and here receives an agile performance The brief Trio (1:48) was newly composed as an addition to the music from the original string quartet; this little episode has a somewhat mysterious character to it. The finale (Vivace con brio) is a rondo. Jean-François Boukobza rightly references a Brahmsian feel to the piano writing at the start; indeed, there are several instances in this movement where I can hear some traces of Brahms. The music is highly animated and characterful – these players really bring it to life. There’s an unusual touch just before the end when the piano launches into a cadenza (7:20 – 8:05) before Jaëll brings her Piano Quartet home in a lively coda.

This Piano Quartet is a very interesting, enjoyable work. It may not be a lost masterpiece but it’s very well worth hearing, especially in such a fine, committed performance. I enjoyed making its acquaintance.    

The La Boîte à Pépites label and these four gifted musicians have done the music of Marie Jaëll a signal service. I’m glad I’ve had the opportunity to hear these pieces to add to those in the Compositrices album; I’d like to experience more of her output.

The performances have been recorded in excellent sound. As is usual with this label, the documentation is first class; Jean-François Boukobza gives us a comprehensive and sympathetic introduction to this composer and to the music performed on this disc.

John Quinn

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