英日対訳:T.ビーチャム自叙伝「A Mingled Chime」第25章(2/2)「ボリス・ゴドゥノフ」騒動:ケロッと♪








An extra performance of Boris had been arranged for the dual purpose of enabling the Royal Family to see it and giving the chorus a Benefit; and it was reported that Chaliapin intended to  make a present to his humbler colleagues of his salary for the evening. Of the rights and wrongs of this matter I was never able to form any opinion; but undoubtedly there was a misunderstanding somewhere, for dissension and rebellion broke out in the company with extraordinary results. On the fateful night I did not go into the auditorium until the beginning of the third scene of the first act— “The Coronation of Boris”— and on looking at the stage I was electrified to discover no sign of the Russian singers. It was fortunate that for this occasion I had augmented the choral forces by a fairly large English contingent, so that a complete disaster was avoided. But as this scene depended largely for adequate representation upon a crowded stage and a mighty mass of sound, it missed more than half of its intended effect. I hurried behind at the fall of the ciutain and found everything in a state of wild confusion, principals, chorus and ballet all engaged in a fierce argument of which neither I nor my British assistants understood a word. I sent in post haste for the manager of the Company, but he was nowhere to be found; and I afterwards learned that, knowing his countrymen better than we, he had sought safety in a remote comer of the Savoy Hotel.  




I contrived to disentangle from the crowd a few of the more responsible members of the troupe, and with the aid of an interpreter gathered from them that the cause of the disturbance was an acute disagreement between Chaliapin and the choristers. Hard words had been exchanged between the contending parties, tempers had run high; the only person who might have put the matter right was the manager and he had fled before the storm. Eventually the indignant malcontents were persuaded to leave the stage and retire to their dressing rooms, as they did not appear in the next act; but at the close of it and just as Chaliapin was about to leave, they reappeared. One of their leaders approached him, and a brief altercation took place which ended dramatically with Chaliapin knocking the man down. Like a pack of wolves the rest of the chorus flung themselves upon him brandishing the tall staves they were to use in the next scene; the small English group rushed to his assistance and the stage doorkeeper telephoned for aid to the Police Station, which luckily was hardly a stone’s throw from the theater. The struggle was still raging when a few minutes later Drury Lane beheld the invasion of about a dozen familiar figures in blue, and very soon something like order was re-established, but not before my own manager had intercepted with his head a blow intended for Chaliapin, which raised a lump as big as a fair-sized plum. Chaliapin departed for his dressing room passing through a human corridor of protection in the shape of the British constabulary, and by undertaking that their grievances should be investigated and remedied I secured the re-appearance of the choras for the rest of the work. So far from being upset by what had taken place, they went through the great Revolution Scene with more than usual fire and enthusiasm; but at the close of the performance nothing would induce them to leave the stage, and they refused to budge a step until they had had it out with Chaliapin himself. The latter at first declined to emerge from his room, but, on being assured that he would be well guarded, finally came out with a loaded revolver in either pocket. By this time the warm reception given to the chorus for their magnificent singing had allayed somewhat their exasperation, and they seemed more inclined to carry on the dispute in something like orthodox fashion.  




It was certainly a strange sight; the principal figure still in his royal costume and fully armed for warfare; the choristers who had just played the part of an insurgent peasantry, wild and savage in appearance; the stolid English contingent in its everyday working dress; and the cohort of police silent but alert in the background. The proceedings began with a speech of immense length from one of the chorus leaders, and this was answered by Chaliapin in another of even greater length. A third speech followed from a female member of great eloquence and volubility, to which Chaliapin a gain replied in like manner. I began to wonder if this was how business was transacted in the Duma, for it seemed that this sort of thing might go on forever. But all at once there was a huge shout of joy and, the next moment, Chaliapin was being hugged and kissed by every member of the chorus, male and female. This little ceremony concluded, the general excitement subsided considerably, and the central figure embarked on another harangue in which I could distinguish frequent allusions to Drury Lane and myself. The eyes of the chorus turned in my direction and the terrifying suspicion crossed my mind that they were contemplating a similar affectionate handling of myself. Quite unable to face the prospect of being enthusiastically embraced by a hundred Russians of both sexes, I called out loudly to my native bodyguard, “Come along, boys, it’s all over,” and, making a precipitate dash for the doorway, left the field to the tranquillized foreigner. It was then about two o’clock in the morning, and I afterwards learned that they did not leave the building until well after five. Deciding that some kind of celebration of the happy ending of their troubles should take place, they had raided the refreshment rooms, lit the large tea and coffee urns, and made themselves wholly and delightfully at home. But the following morning they all turned up punctually for rehearsal, as blithe and unconcerned as if nothing unusual had happened, and as if wrath and violence had no part in the Slav temperament. 




Chaliapin - Boris Godounov, Act.4 - Death of Boris ( (Moussorgsky) -1927