英日対訳:T.ビーチャム自叙伝「A Mingled Chime」第29章(1/2) 「音大生を無職で路上に放り出すな!」








About the beginning of 1915 Delius and his wife, who had been forced to make a hasty flight from Grez when the German armies were advancing in the Marne district, arrived suddenly in England. They had buried their stock of wine in the garden, left 

their beloved jackdaw Koanga in charge of the parish priest, climbed on to a manure cart and, after a painfully long and circuitous journey, contrived to reach one of the Channel ports, from which the steamers were still making their daily crossings. I had a house a few miles out of Watford where I thought the wandering couple might care to take up their residence. A pretty little place, formerly the dower house of a large estate, with a millwheel to provide soothing music day and night and well away from main roads, it seemed to me quite the sort of a retreat where a hunted composer could repair his ravaged nervous system and continue his work in peace. And settle there they did but not with full content until they had succeeded in bringing over their own French cook from Grez and relegating my homely English help to duties of a strictly non-culinary kind. 




As my occupations were increasing rapidly I could pay him only occasional visits, usually at a week end when other visitors would look in to pay homage to genius in exile, and among them was a young man just down from Cambridge who surprised us all by his sympathy for and understanding of modern music. His ambition was to edit a journal which should be progressive and aggressive in tone, and as the idea had the enthusiastic backing of Delius, whose chief delight in life next to composing was to stir up any kind of public controversy provided it was acrimonious enough, we drew up a scheme for launching it under the title of The Sackbut or The Anti-Ass. But nothing much came of this promising enterprise, for although the paper did make its appearance some months later, it remained but a short time under the control of Philip Heseltine, or Peter Warlock as he afterwards became known. Passing into the hands of a safe commercial house which shore the title of its provocative and better half, it ran with success according to the most unimpeachable rules of good journalistic conduct. This strange and gifted youth was bom out of his time and suffered from a duality of nature whose two divisions were opposing and irreconcilable. One half of him looked wistfully back to the healthy naturalism of the sixteenth century while the other faced boldly the dawn of an age whose music shall have parted company with every element which for centuries we have believed to be the very essence and justification of its existence. Such types have small part in the present; they “look before and after and pine for what is not” and either consciously or subconsciously are in perpetual conflict with it. Their spiritual isolation makes it hard to say whether they are the remnant of a biological experiment which Nature in a capricious mood has already tried and abandoned, or the premonitory symptom of one that is in an embryonic stage of gestation. But Peter Warlock, if he was a lost soul, was a brilliant and lovable character, a man among other men, and an intellect that never wholly lost touch with a past without which there cannot be a future. In this he stood apart from some of his contemporaries and most of his successors, who were not only an innovation in European music but the negation and denial of it, and can be viewed with equanimity on the one condition that they are the close and not the beginning of an era. 

私の仕事が急に忙しくなってきたので彼のもとに顔を出すのも、週末にたまにというのがやっとだった。私が顔を出さない間は、疎開中の天才作曲家への表敬訪問が次々と行われていた。その中にケンブリッジ大学を出たての若い男が1人いた。彼の、現代音楽に対する愛好ぶりとその理解度は、私達みなを驚かせた。彼には大きな野望があった。ある新聞で手掛けたい記事があるという。論調は時代を先取りした「攻め」の姿勢でいきたいとのこと。このアイデアを、熱心に支持したのがディーリアスだ。彼にしてみれば、人生において、この件で何かしら社会的論争を、辛辣さたっぷりなものとする条件付きだが、巻き起こすことに、作曲の次に人生の喜びを覚えていたのだ。私達は計画を立て、記事のタイトルを「The Sackbut」(訳注:中世の、今は使われなくなった管楽器)か、「The Anti-Ass」(訳注:クソとは無縁のもの)にしようということで、取り掛かることとした。だが、この前途洋々に見えた目論見は、あまり多くを生むことにはならなかった。というのも、記事は確かに数カ月後に新聞に掲載されたのだが、フィリップ・アーノルド・ヘーゼルスタイン(後にピーター・ウォーロックとして著名な作曲家、文筆家となる)の短期間の指揮の下に委ねられたのだ。この目論見は、とある秘密裏に事をすすめるビジネス組織の手に渡り、そこでこの挑発的なお題目と我が親友への支援となるような、最高に申し分のないジャーナリズムの手腕のおかげを持って、成功を収めた。この経験の浅く、しかしながら才に恵まれた若者は、時代の申し子であった。そして、自らの相対する2つの矛盾した側面に苦しんでいた。片方は、16世紀の健全なる自然主義を、切なげに見つめていること。これに相対するのが、何百年もの間本質であり存在根拠していたものと、全て決別する音楽の新たな時代が、ハッキリと始まるという現実に直面していること。こういうものは現在(1943年)は、その役割が小さくなっている。両方とも、いわゆる「過去と未来を見て、ないものねだりを」して、判っていながら、場合によっては全く気づかずに、いつまでもズルズル衝突をし続けるのだ。これらの根本精神は、現実社会から乖離してしまっている。この世を創った神様が、もう既に気まぐれ適当に試して断念した、生物学的な実験の名残なのか、それとも、成長途中の未発達段階であることを警告するほのめかしなのか、説明するのも難しい。だがピーター・ウォーロックは、仮に成仏しきれずにいるような、どっちつかずの輩だとするならば、誠に聡明かつ愛すべき人物であったと言える。どこにでもいるような、普通の人間で、過去との完全なる決別などありえない、ということは、未来が必ず存在しうるという、そういう知識人であった。この点において、彼が一線を画しているのが、同時代の者達や、彼の跡を追いかけた者達だ。彼らは、ヨーロッパの芸術音楽において、革新をもたらしただけでなく、これを存在し得ないものとして否定してかかったのだ。そして彼らは現在(1943年)、一つの時代を始めたのではなく、閉じただけという、ある意味呆れられたものの見方をされてしまっているフシがある。 



For some time I had been more and more interested in a problem which no one heavily involved in the business of public performance could afford to ignore, the failure of our leading colleges to produce an adequate output of superior talent. Something like five thousand students were assembled in the London institutions alone, and while it was our custom to hold regular and frequent auditions of those singers who were represented to be the prize specimens of the year’s crop, we were hardly ever able to make use of any of them in the condition they were sent to us. The bulk of the English singers who had taken part in my seasons had received their training either abroad or at home privately, and those who had actually passed through one of the colleges were obliged almost invariably to seek out some additional instruction to supplement the scanty measure they had obtained there. Hardly more satisfactory was the state of advanced instrumental playing, for although it had earned our gratitude by raising the standard of style and execution in the orchestral player, the prevailing system seemed incapable of producing the class of performer who could pass beyond that stage to one of higher individual excellence. I once escorted Maurel on a tour of inspection through one of the largest of the great teaching establishments, and the Principal, thinking to make a telling impression, told us how many thousands of puipls were working under his roof.  




“Etonnant,” commented the distinguished relic of an older and leaner day, “mais combien d’artistes avez-vous?”  




Perhaps this was asking too much, and any academy is justified in protesting that it is not within its power to guarantee the creation of lofty natural ability. But this would have been no answer to or explanation of the undeniable fact that much the greater part of it as did exist had passed through hands other than its own. Remembering what Charles Wood had once said to me about the knowledge of orchestration, I began to wonder if these great nurseries of the art possessed either the will or the insight to employ pedagogic skill of a sufficiently expert order, for I knew quite a few instances of posts held by men who in the spheres of singing and playing had been anything but shining lights in their profession. As I have said before, the supreme artist has always a difficulty in handing on his own peculiar method, but if it were true that the bulk of the youth on the continent that ultimately found its way into its two hundred opera houses had been sent out by the conservatories of Paris, Vienna, Milan, Berlin, and a dozen other centers, it was inevitable that someone sooner or later should ask why our own could not do the same. 




My interest in this question, which is as much alive today as then, has been resented and misunderstood on nearly every occasion I have expressed it, sometimes in those quarters where I had the right to expect a more attentive hea ring as well as a more thoughtful reply. For it is not as the conductor of an orchestra that I have spoken but as an employer of musical labor, and by no means the least active in my own country. As I cannot run opera seasons without singers, or give certain works at all without some of a specific class or kind, it should follow that it is I as much as anyone else who is concerned that they should be forthcoming. In another sphere of discovery the same responsibility extends to the concert room, in which during the half dozen years before the present war it was my task to draw up or assist in drawing up something like a hundred different programs of music annually. As my appetite for genuine novelty has in no wise abated I am constantly on the lookout for it, but hardly once a year do I come across an unmistakable example. If some unprejudiced inquirer would take the trouble to make one list of the admittedly great orchestral works written between 1890-1910 and another of those written between 1920-1940, a cool comparison of the two might start him on a line of salutary reflection. And if he cared to go on to a brief examination of the true state of opera, his surprise would be increased by the disconcerting revelation that, while in the earlier period we were blessed with a score of masterpieces or quasi-masterpieces, one piece only during the later has managed to maintain its place in the international repertoire.  




This none too sound condition in the kingdom of music is familiar enough to those whose preoccupation is to search for first-rate work and bring it to the light of day. But if any one of them is moved from time to time to issue a word of warning about it, he is informed with the minimum of polite consideration that he is guilty of an unworthy pessimism and an action of gross disservice to an art which is still flourishing with undiminished vitality. The depressing truth is that the capacity for self-delusion seems to be as great in the aesthetic world as in the political, and that little short of a series of catastrophes will bring enlightenment to those who continue to ignore the writing upon the wall.