Death And The Maiden

16

As Liebermann approached the opera house he inserted his hand into his coat pocket and checked that the letter was still there. The young doctor needed to reassure himself of its existence, to dismiss nagging doubts that he had only imagined its appearance or perhaps misread the signature of the correspondent. Director Mahler had referred to ‘a confidential matter’ which he wished to discuss ‘in person’. Liebermann wondered if the director had developed a psychological problem that he did not wish to disclose to the opera house physician. The director’s mannerisms had certainly suggested a restless, neurotic temperament.

Przistaupinsky met Liebermann at the stage door and escorted him to the director’s office.

‘Herr Doctor Liebermann,’ said Mahler, rising from his chair. ‘I am so glad you could come.’ He glanced at his secretary. ‘Przistaupinsky — tea. Please sit, Herr Doctor.’

The surface of the director’s desk was obscured by a chaotic jumble of scores and books. Liebermann recognised two titles: a novel by Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment, and a book of philosophy by Gustav Fechner, Zend-Avesta, or Concerning All Things in Heaven and the Beyond.

Director Mahler made no small talk. He produced a newspaper from beneath a battered copy of Mozart’s Jupiter Symphony and showed Liebermann the masthead. It was the Deutsche Zeitung.

‘Yesterday’s edition,’ said the director. He opened it and presented Liebermann with a lengthy article, the heading of which was stark and unpleasant: The Jewish Regime at the Vienna Opera. ‘Did you see this?’

‘I do not read the Deutsche Zeitung,’ said Liebermann.

‘It is an anonymous article that appears to have escaped the censor’s notice, a scurrilous piece of low journalism. Unfortunately, I must ask you to read it.’

Liebermann took the newspaper.

The initial paragraphs concerned Mahler’s style of conducting.

What Herr Mahler sometimes does cannot be called conducting. It is more like the gesticulations of a dervish and, when the Kapellmeister has St Vitus’s dance, it’s really very difficult to keep time. His left hand often doesn’t know what the right one is doing …

The author then went on to attack Mahler’s habit of reinforcing sections of the orchestra with additional instruments.

If Herr Mahler wants to make corrections he should tackle the works of Mendelssohn and Rubinstein … But let him leave our Beethoven in peace …

The final paragraph claimed that certain members of the orchestra had given Mahler a nickname, the Duty Sergeant, due to his peremptory manner, and had promised rebellion.

Resistance is smouldering, even the most cowardly and submissive musicians will finally join the majority, and one of these days Mahler will find himself without an orchestra … it is conceivable to have the Opera without Mahler, but not without the orchestra.

Liebermann was reminded of the civil disturbance he had seen outside the town hall and the hateful graffito. The general atmosphere of volatility had spread even to the philharmonic orchestra. He gave the newspaper back to the director and shook his head.

‘Disgraceful.’

‘It has obviously been written by an orchestral player and there are some whom I suspect; however, I cannot make an accusation without being absolutely confident that I have the right man.’

‘And you want my help?’

‘Precisely. I want you to identify the author of this article.’

Mahler tossed the paper disdainfully across his desk.

‘Other than the fact that he is an orchestral player and an anti-Semite — which you no doubt already know — there is nothing more I can say.’

The director frowned. ‘I thought …’ He chewed the nail of his index finger. ‘I thought a man with your understanding of human behaviour would …’ He produced a long, disappointed sigh.

‘A printed newspaper article is somewhat impersonal,’ said Liebermann. ‘All the small details which I might find revealing have been removed. It is a sanitised version of the handwritten original. Now, if you had that in your possession …’

‘The editor of the Deutsche Zeitung isn’t going to give me the original,’ said Mahler flatly.

‘Perhaps not, but you are the director of the court opera. A man in your position could appeal to the lord chamberlain.’

‘Prince Liechtenstein won’t want to get involved. Palace aides are always weary of being accused of meddling, and now even more so as the election approaches.’

‘Then I am afraid …’

The director nodded. ‘I understand. Forgive me, Herr Doctor, I have wasted your time. Please submit an invoice and you will be remunerated.’

‘That really won’t be necessary,’ said Liebermann, a little embarrassed.

‘Then I hope you will accept some tickets to the opera with my compliments.’

‘I will indeed,’ Liebermann replied. Gesturing at the discarded newspaper he added: ‘And I would be happy to assist you in due course, should you obtain the original of this offensive article.’

‘That is very unlikely,’ said Mahler. ‘But I will try.’ He shrugged. ‘One never knows.’

Przistaupinsky arrived with a tray laden with china. He cleared a space on the director’s desk, poured two cups of tea and indicated the sugar bowl.

‘How did you get on the other day?’ asked Mahler. ‘Did you and the inspector learn anything?’

‘The interviews proved very useful.’

‘I’m still rather confused as to the purpose of your visit.’

‘Procedures must be observed,’ said Liebermann disingenuously.

The director wasn’t fooled. He looked at Liebermann sceptically before his features softened. ‘Did you read the reviews of Rienzi?’

‘They were outstanding. I noticed Herr Schmedes was singled out.’

Deep laughter lines appeared on Mahler’s face. ‘That was a remarkable thing you did, Herr Doctor.’ The director raised his teacup as if proposing a toast.

Liebermann inclined his head, hoping very much that he would be afforded another opportunity to impress the director.