英日対訳:T.ビーチャム自叙伝「A Mingled Chime」第33章(1/2)戦時下の文化支援/「後宮からの誘拐」








It was during the same summer that I received an invitation to attend a meeting in Birmingham summoned to consider the best way of forming a municipal orchestra. It was surprising that what had proved impossible in peace time should be regarded as feasible in the middle of a world war; but so many unexpected things had happened since 1914 that this perhaps was but one more to be added to the list. So there I went and duly attended several gatherings, at which all the trite sentiments ever uttered upon such a subject anywhere since life began were rolled out by one speaker after another. How necessary it was for Birmingham to have an orchestra, what a valuable contribution to the city's  

culture it would be, how the plan ought to be supported by everyone, and what a wonderful thing music was with its power to inspire and uplift! But of any idea how to put it into practical operation there was little evidence: certainly no one seemed ready to spend any of his own money on it, and the Lord Mayor, Mr. Neville Chamberlain, was very clear that the present was not the time to add one farthing to the rates in the interests of the fine arts. 




This negative kind of zeal was as usual getting us nowhere,  

but I did discover among the representatives of about half a dozen leading societies a much greater willingness to cooperate than formerly, and I told Mr. Chamberlain that if the scheme under discussion did not materialize he might let me know, as I had just the skeleton of another in my head which might result in something tangible. A little while after I did hear from him that he saw no immediate chance of any civic project being carried into effect, and that I was free to work out something on my own lines if I wished to do so. As soon therefore as I could go to Birmingham again I called into consultation two or three energetic spirits whom I had known in earlier days, obtained a list of the concerts given during the past season by all the societies operating within a radius of thirty miles, and finding it to be larger than I expected, invited their managers to come and see me.  




They all attended and I told them that I was willing to engage an orchestra on a permanent basis for six or seven months in the year, if I could rely on their cooperation; which meant simply an undertaking from them to use it for the whole of their concerts. The cost so far as they were concerned would be no more than in previous seasons; indeed if they cared to lengthen their respective series it would be less, in view of the conditions under which the new body of players would be working. On satisfying themselves that there was no catch or snag in the proposal they unanimously consented, and my next step was to ask the principal supporters of the concerts I had conducted in 1911-12-13 if they would join with me in reviving them, as it would hardly do to have a resident orchestra in the town playing only for choral societies. This too was agreed, and I set about the task of founding yet another institution, which I maintained along the lines indicated for two years without incurring more than a reasonable loss. I was preparing to continue for a third when my representative in the town notified me that the Government had taken possession of every building where music could be given and asked what was to be done about it. I replied that the proposition was transparently clear: no hall, no music; no music, no orchestra; and that it was for Birmingham to decide if this was what it wanted. As none of the local authorities took enough interest in the matter to intervene and preserve the existence of the young organization, I had no alternative but to abandon it, and once again the adverse fate which frowned upon every serious enterprise in Birmingham had got the better of us. But the effort was not entirely in vain. I had demonstrated that the thing could be done in a practical and fairly economical way, and a few years later the city council came forward with a grant which brought about the establishment of an actual municipal orchestra.  




The opera company returned from Manchester to the Aldwych Theater, and I made several additions to its repertoire, which by this time included about fifteen operas. The most important of these were II Seraglio of Mozart which I had not given anywhere since 1910. 1 have never understood why this beautiful piece has failed nearly everywhere to win the full favor of the public. Even as late as 1938 when the popularity of Mozart had reached its zenith and I gave it with a superb cast at Covent Garden, it was received coolly. According to Weber, its author never again produced a large work so thoroughly imbued with the spirit of youth and happiness, and as it coincided with the time of his marriage to Costanze it may be looked upon as an epithalamium for that event. Its artistic consequence eclipses even its domestic, for here at last we find the full-grown and mature Mozart, emancipated from the traditions and conventions of a style of operatic composition that had held the stage for eighty years and of which his Idomoneo is a splendid example. In II Seraglio we are introduced to a new and living world. Gone from the scene are the pallid heroes and heroines of antiquity, the unconvincing wizards and enchantresses of the middle ages, and all the other artificial creatures dear to the whole tribe of 18th century librettists. In their unlamented place we have ordinary human beings of recognizable mold, singing their joy and sonows to melody that rings as freshly in our ears today as in those of the Viennese one hundred and sixty years ago.  




In songs of the highest excellence the score is exceptionally rich. Instances are the “O wie angstlich”, with its wonderful accompaniment expressing more perfectly than any other music known to me the tremulous expectation of the anxious lover; the three arias of Costanze, of which the second is the most haunting idyll in all opera; and lastly those of that grand old rascal Osmin,for whom the composer confesses an obvious affection by the gift of the Finest explosion of triumphant malice in vocal sound. But astonishing as is this exhibition of solo virtuosity, it is outrivaled by the ensemble pieces of which the finale to the second act is the crown. Here we have the first instance on a large scale of that matchless skill with which Mozart could weave together a succession of movements, each representing a different mood or stage in the action, into a complete unity that is entirely satisfying to the musical sense. And as the absolute fitness of the music to the dramatic situation is never in question for a moment, all flows on with a natural ease beyond which human art cannot go. In the last number of all, the Vaudeville, we have a specimen of that haunting strain peculiar to this master, half gay, half sad, like the smile on the face of a departing friend. These tender adieux abound in the later Mozart, notably in the slow movements of his later instrumental works, such as the great piano concertos in D minor, in A major, and in C minor.  




I had succeeded in finding another scenic artist of talent, Adrian Allinson, and it was in II Seraglio that he first gave the public a taste of what he could do. Allinson had hardly the same unerring  

flair for stage design as Rumbold; his effort was more unequal and he required some guidance in all that he attempted. But he had a larger fund of poetry and imagination which enabled him now and then to create pictures of the highest charm, and the second act of II Seraglio was quite one of the loveliest I have seen anywhere. Another branch of our work to which we gave particular attention was translation. For general purposes I had a skillful and practised hand in Paul England, who invariably provided us with a scholarly first version. Afterwards I would summon together the principal artists who were to appear in the opera, go over each phrase with them and ascertain what words they could the most easily vocalize on certain notes. Our two leading baritones, Frederic Austin and Frederick Ranalow, had a high degree of ability in this sort of thing and were often able to find in English the vowel sounds which corresponded exactly to those of the original text, a valuable alleviation of a notorious thorn in the flesh of every conscientious singer. 




"Finale" - Entführung aus dem Serail (W.A.Mozart), Florenz, Mehrzad Montazeri (Tenor) 

Italien - Florenz 2002: Maggio Musicale 


Dirigent - Zubin Mehta 





act3 conclusion duet conclusion;vaudeville finale:nie were' ich deine huld verkennen 

constanze--lois marshall 

blonde--ilse hollweg 

belmonte--leopold simoneau 

pedrillo--gerhard unger 

osmin-gottlob frick 

pasha selim-hansgeorg laubentham 

thomas beecham