Gibbons on Berlioz, trans. and ed. Bruce (2003)

Though known largely to modern audiences as one of the most prominent composers of nineteenth-century France, Hector Berlioz (1803–1869) was also the author of six books, ranging in topic from serious musical treatises to more lighthearted criticism. The Musical Madhouse falls into the latter category. Originally published as Les Grotesques de la musique (1859), the text consists mostly of reprints of many of Berlioz’s short and often hilariously funny articles from the Journal des débats (for which Berlioz was the regular music critic) and the Revue et Gazette musicale de Paris, covering a time span from the mid 1840s to the time of its publication.

As one might expect, the musical culture of Paris forms a central theme for Berlioz’s articles. Subjecting to equal lampooning everyone from impossible prima donnas and incompetent conductors – “Play softly, Monsieur? . . . What academic poppycock!” (21) – to confused concert goers and eccentric amateurs – “The black keys? Oh, you mean for sharps and flats; all that nonsense belongs to the old-fashioned piano, I don’t use them on mine” (35) – Berlioz amuses and instructs his readers in a sharp and witty style, easily accessible to non-specialist audiences. Readers less interested in the idiosyncrasies of the professional music scene will also find much to enjoy, as Berlioz sheds light on topics as diverse as the 1855 Universal Exposition, the Queen of Tahiti, the uselessness of proverbs, and the joys (and woes) of traveling through the French countryside.

The fact that it has taken more than a century for this important work to appear in English is a testament to the difficulty of translating a text like The Musical Madhouse, so filled with humor and linguistic nuance (such as Berlioz’s penchant for puns). Alastair Bruce has approached the daunting task of translation with a great deal of skill and, just as importantly, with transparency, including notes and comments on particularly troublesome passages.

In addition to Berlioz’s own text, this edition includes a number of features that will be helpful to non-specialist readers. The introduction by Berlioz scholar Hugh Macdonald (author of Berlioz [Oxford University Press, 2000]) is extremely helpful in establishing a historical background for the book, placing The Musical Madhouse into the context of Berlioz’s other prose works and giving an overview of the musical climate of 1850s Paris. Furthermore, Bruce includes extensive endnotes explaining references in the text to specific musicians, compositions, or historical events that might not be obvious to modern readers. The volume is also richly illustrated, with more than 40 pages devoted to reproductions of relevant contemporary art, caricatures, and manuscript pages. The publication of The Musical Madhouse in such a fine English edition is a significant contribution to the literature on Parisian culture in the mid nineteenth century, and one that can be enjoyable and edifying to musicologists and non-specialists alike.