Vienna Secrets

43

The note had been slipped under Liebermann’s door while he had been attending Professor Heideck’s morning ward round. He knew immediately that it was another summons from the chancellor.

When Liebermann arrived at the chancellor’s office, Professor Gandler received him with a sullen stare and a few costive words of greeting. Liebermann sat down and waited politely for Gandler to speak. The silence that followed was deeply uncomfortable. The chancellor shifted in his chair and managed to say only “Herr Dr. Liebermann…”

“Am I to understand,” ventured the young doctor, “that there have been some developments?”

“Yes,” said the chancellor, as if addressing himself in a moment of abstraction. “Developments. There have been some developments.”

Liebermann raised his eyebrows, willing Gandler to continue.

“When we last met, Herr Doctor, you will recall that I expressed grave concerns as to what consequences might follow from the publication of the article in Das Vaterland-that is to say, the article in which references were made to your alleged misconduct on the night when the young Baron von Kortig died. It gives me no pleasure to inform you that my misgivings have since been proved uncannily prescient. The issue of your alleged misconduct has come to the attention of several members of parliament. These gentlemen belong to the Christian Social party and take a keen interest in religious issues. Questions have been asked, explanations demanded, and I am of the opinion that this matter will shortly receive much greater attention in the wider press.”

“But that is outrageous!” Liebermann cried.

“I would find it easier to offer you sympathy, Herr Doctor, had you not shown such disregard for my previous advice, which-I can assure you-was given in good faith. I told you that this business had the potential to escalate. You were warned, Herr Doctor.”

“Be that as it may,” said Liebermann, “your advice, however intended, does not alter the fact that I behaved as I did to best serve the interests of my patient, and with respect to the practice of medicine, I have still done no wrong.”

Professor Gandler’s upper lip curled to form a haughty sneer.

“I cannot believe your naivete, Herr Doctor. Nor can I believe your selfishness. For the sake of making some self-indulgent, self-regarding, self-important moral stand, you have succeeded in exposing the hospital to the most serious public criticism. Yet you are still vain enough, in the light of what has so far transpired, to maintain your belligerent attitude. I would suggest, Herr Doctor, that a little humility might now be in order! Do you not see what is happening here? What some sections of the press will make of all this? Do you not see how the hospital will be portrayed as a haven for atheists and religious agitators? And can you not imagine what effect such a scandal will have on the number of charitable donations we receive!”

“It was never my intention to bring the hospital into disrepute, Herr Professor. As you know, I merely sought to honor my principal obligation, which was to my patient, and to him alone.”

The chancellor shook his head. “Such worthy sentiments would be all well and good, Herr Doctor, if we lived in some perfect platonic world. But we don’t. We live in a real and very complex world in which decisions have numerous consequences, all of which have to be taken into account. To do some good in this world-and by that I mean substantial, practical good-requires an individual to rise above simplistic juvenile idealism.”

Liebermann was surprised by the chancellor’s vehemence. Moreover, his insult was finely honed. It was penetrating and hurtful, Liebermann realized, because it was also insightful. There was some truth in what Professor Gandler had said.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing,” said the chancellor. “It’s too late for an apology now. However, given the current situation, I have decided that it is in the best interests of all concerned if you are relieved of your clinical duties pending a special meeting of the hospital committee.”

“What do you mean, ‘relieved’?”

“You must not have any further contact with your patients.”

“But that’s impossible. Some of them are very ill.”

“Then they will have to be reassigned to another physician.”

Liebermann raised his hands in the air, a futile mute beseeching.

“What is the purpose of this suspension? What does it achieve?”

“The hospital must show that we are taking the matter of your alleged misconduct seriously. If we permit you to continue your clinical duties, then there is nothing to stop you from repeating the offense. Such a possibility cannot be countenanced.”

“Professor Gandler,” said Liebermann, attempting unsuccessfully to maintain a steady voice, “the circumstances surrounding the young Baron von Kortig’s death were somewhat unusual. I do not expect to encounter such a situation again in the foreseeable future. Surely it would be better if I were relieved only of ward duties. I could then continue to see individual cases.”

The chancellor was shaking his head before Liebermann had finished his sentence.

“No, that wouldn’t be wise. I’m sure you can busy yourself in other ways. Spend some time in the library, write up a few old cases, plan some research…”

“When is this special meeting of the hospital committee planned?”

“We don’t have a date yet, but as soon as everyone is agreed, I’ll let you know. You will be expected to attend.”

“I thought you said it was too late for an apology.”

“It is.”

“Then why must I attend?”

“To justify your actions so that the committee can make a decision concerning your position here at the hospital. I fear, however, that little can be done now. Unless something very remarkable happens, I believe that you will be dismissed. I did warn you, Herr Doctor. I did warn you.”