英日対訳:トーマス・ビーチャム自叙伝「A Mingled Chime」第17章(1/2)新しく立ち上がったオーケストラと楽士達








As I have indicated, the new orchestra, outside a veteran or two, was an essentially youthful body, and its members differed conspicuously from the older type of orchestra player. Their executive standard was higher, their musicianship broader and sounder, and their general culture of an wholly superior order, much of it traceable to their all-round training and early contact with men and women of refinement in the great colleges of music. Filled with an enthusiasm and untiring appetite for work that would horrify the soul of a modem trades union official, they  

regarded music as primarily an artistic pursuit, a joyous pastime which had not yet degenerated into an industry distinguishable from others of a mechanical nature only by conditions of higher pay for less labor. Not yet was a conductor confronted with the spectacle of a hundred men calling themselves artists and demanding the respect due to such, downing tools in the middle of a phrase and executing a precipitate stampede from the platform on the first stroke of a clock striking the hour which announced the end of the rehearsal. Some years ago I was conducting a series of concerts in a certain foreign capital, and half an hour before the conclusion of the first rehearsal an official with a stop-watch took up his position behind me and at regular intervals called out loudly, “Fifteen minutes more, ten minutes more, only five minutes left.” I was obliged to inform the venerable society for which I was working that if this extraordinary practice, so admirably calculated to assist concentration on their job among the players as well as the conductor, was repeated on any subsequent occasion, it would be I who would indulge in the process of downing tools without a second’s hesitation and leave the place forever.  




These rigid and unnatural regulations do not originate with the players themselves, at all events not those of the highest class, but with a type of mind that regards all musicians as children who must be protected against any of those stirring and spontaneous impulses to work when they are so inclined, impulses which are inseparable from a genuine artistic nature. It is unfortunately true that in earlier days there was, as in many other occupations, a certain exploitation of the humbler sort of musician on the part of employers of small sensibility or conscience. But the talented player never stood in need of coddling or protecting, being quite capable of looking competently after his own interests, nor does he today; and what he wants more than anything else is to be allowed to give vent to the unfettered expression of his best self, which if thwarted or over-regulated will in time inevitably run to seed. Of course every thinking person knows exactly where all this regimentation is going to end. For generations in all Anglo-Saxon communities music has been maintained by the public spirit and liberality of private persons. It is a fine art, a luxury, and not an absolute necessity like food, drink, clothing, or transportation; and today this class is feeling keenly that it is not being given a square deal and that its sacrifices are being taken too much for granted and its goodwill abused. The next step in the game will be their retirement from the scene, leaving either to the State or to the professional musician himself the responsibility of shouldering the burden. As music is unlike most other businesses in that it is almost always mn at a large financial loss, the task of meeting it will have to be sustained by musicians themselves in one form or another, for it is safe to prophesy that the State will not support that which is at the moment an wholly parasite industry. In other words, music is something that people can get on without, and if it costs too much, they will. I have for many years now been sounding warning about the precarious condition of the entire fabric of music, how easily even the major orchestral organizations which are the greater glory of our modern artistic life could decline and disappear. They did not exist on any important scale fifty years ago, they are subject like all else to the various laws of development (down as well as up), economy, and public taste, and quite conceivably might return to that void from which they came.  




The years stretching from 1900 to 1914 constituted the second phase of that national artistic evolution of which the first had been the period 1885 to 1890. The public was awakening to the realization that there might be Englishmen who had what the French call ‘the matter of music’ in them, not only in composers, but singers and instrumentalists. But a large number of amateurs still cherished the belief that to hear adequate orchestral or operatic performances one must go abroad, to Vienna, Berlin, Munich, or Bayreuth, and one nervous Wagnerite, almost panic-stricken on seeing the inclusion of Die Meistersinger in the repertoire of one of my opera seasons asked anxiously, “Do you think the orchestra can really play it?” A similar skepticism prevailed about solo artists, singers especially, who almost invariably renounced the lowly patronymics so wanting in romance and mystery for grand sounding foreign names which were contentedly accepted by the public as evidences of the real thing. For this reason we had such adoptions as Melba, Nordica, Nevada, Donalda, or Stralia, and many others, all striving to conceal from a world which really knew all about them the inferiority of their nationality, and sometimes the ignorance of the true origin of an artist led to incidents in which it was impossible for even the kindliest person not to take a little malicious delight. One day an agent brought to me a new tenor who styled himself (let us say) Signor Amboni. He was young, presentable, and had a voice of excellent quality and considerable volume. Although I hardly ever made use of singers at my concerts I was impressed by the newcomer and interpolated him into one of them to sing arias from Rigoletto, Manon, and Die Walkure. Everyone thought that my find sang well enough but some of the Press fell foul of his pronunciation, averring that if only he would stick to his native Italian all would be well. His French might at a pinch be forgiven, but his German simply would not do at all. The following evening I gave a supper party at which Amboni was present and I observed some private hilarity between him and one or two others when the subject of this criticism was mentioned, the cause of which the rest of us remained in ignorance until the arrival later on of Fritz Casirer, who had come on from another gathering. On being presented to Amboni, he gazed at him in astonishment for quite ten seconds as if he could not believe his very short-sighted eyes, and finally gasped out, “Good Lord, it's old Hasselbaum.” The Italian whose German pronunciation had been condemned as deplorable turned out to be a genuine son of the Fatherland from Mannheim!  

我が国(イギリス)の音楽芸術の発展は、第1期が1885年から1890年、そして第2期が1900年から実に1914年と長期間に亘り、見られる。一般大衆は、徐々に気づき始めているであろう、我が国にも、作曲家だけでなく、歌手や器楽奏者においても、フランス人が言うところの「音楽性のある者」が存在するかもしれないようになってきたのだ。だがアマチュア層の大半が、依然として心に信じてやまないのが、オーケストラの演奏会でも、オペラの公演でも、満足のゆくものを聴きたいと思ったら、ウィーンやベルリン、ミュンヘンバイロイトと言った海外へゆかねばならない、ということだ。熱狂的なワーグナーファンなどは、私のオーケストラがオペラの公演シーズンに、「ニュルンベルクのマイスタージンガー」などを演目に入れると、心配そうに訊ねてくる「おたくのオーケストラが、こんなもの演奏できると、本当に思っているのですか?」疑いの目は、ソロ歌手や合唱団にも向けられている。歌手の方は、自ら本物の実力を持つ証として、一般大衆に納得して受け入れてもらおうと、父祖の代からの名前を捨てて、いかにも大物風に聞こえる外国人の名前に変えて、ロマンチックでミステリアスな雰囲気を醸し出そうとしているのだ。このオペラ公演のシーズンを実施した年には、こう言った改名が、メルバだの、ノルディカだの、ネバダだの、ドナルダだの、ストラリアだの(訳注、3つ目以降は半分冗談)、その他やたらと行われた。こうすることで、自分が英国出身であることを、一般大衆に隠すのだ。一般大衆は、イギリス国籍の歌手では、外国人に比べて、実力で劣ることがあるという事情を、よく知っているからである。そして時に、音楽家が自分の本当の出生を、無視するようなことをしでかしたために、普段彼らを一番好意的に応援してくれている人達に、嫌悪感を抱かせる事態になってしまうことがあった。ある日のこと、エージェントがテノール歌手を一人連れてきた。私は初対面だった。彼は自分の名前を(ここでは実際に名乗った名前は伏せる)、セニョール・アンボニ(アンボニさん)と名乗った。若くてイケメンで、歌声の質が素晴らしく、声量もかなり大きく出せる。普段私は、オーケストラの演奏会では、滅多に歌手を立てないのだが、この新入には感銘を受けたので、「リゴレット」「マノン・レスコー」それに「ワルキューレ」のアリアを歌わせる歌手の一人に抜擢した。歌唱力については、私の眼識は認められたが、報道各社に叩かれたのが、彼の発音だ。言い切られてしまったのが、イタリア人なら、イタリア語の歌だけにしておけ、ということだ。フランス語はまだ許せるが、ドイツ語は救いようがない、というのだ。そんな酷評を受けた次の晩、私は夕食会を開いた。そこにはアンボニも呼んで、勝手に浮かれ騒がせた。こうすることで、1人2人とはしゃがせて、先の報道各社の批判を確かめようというのだ。彼以外の私達全員、知らん顔をしていたところへ、やってきたのが、ドイツの指揮者フリッツ・カッシーラーだ。彼は他に集まりがあって、それを終えて来てくれたのである。アンボニと相対すると、カッシーラーは驚いた様子で、彼を10秒程じっと見つめた。彼はド近眼なので、それが良くないのかもしれない、といった様子であったが、最後にこう喘ぎながら言った「Good Lord, it's old Hasselbaum」(こりゃあ、驚いた、ハッセルバウムの爺さんによく似ている)。セニョール・アンボニ、ドイツ語が救いようがないと叩かれた、自称イタリアからきた男は、なんと、マンハイム出身の、根っからのドイツ人であることが判明したのだ! 



The summer of 1909 was marked by three events all of capital importance to me. The first was a performance of Delius' “A Mass of Life," his magnum opus, which, though of quite ordinary length, had been heard nowhere in its entirety. My old friends, the North Staffordshire Choir, had prepared it with great care and sang with splendid tone and flawless intonation many passages then regarded as harsh and unvocal, and which were assailed vigorously by upholders of the elder school of choral writing modeled on Handel and Mendelssohn. After the quartet of solo singers had come forward several times at the end to acknowledge the applause, I brought out the chorus master, a slight elderly figure unfamiliar to the London public and I heard a young girl in the front row of the stalls ask her male companion who it was. “That, my dear," he replied without an instant's hesitation, “is the librettist.” Poor Nietzsche, whose “Also Sprach Zarathustra” had supplied the text for the Mass, had then been in his grave about ten years.