Death And The Maiden

23

Court Opera intendant baron August von Plappart was seated in his office on Braunerstrasse. He opened the drawer of his desk and removed the letter inside. Carefully unfolding the diaphanous paper, he read through one or two paragraphs to refresh his memory. The correspondent was highly critical of Director Mahler and had signed off with the words, ‘From a musician who wishes to hear unadulterated Beethoven.’

As a rule, Plappart disapproved of insubordination, but in this instance his indignation was mitigated by a sense of self-righteous vindication. Here was proof, of sorts, that the appointment of Director Mahler had been a grave mistake.

Plappart cast his mind back to the very first occasion when he had become uneasy. The director had invited a large number of celebrated and expensive singers to perform at the opera house without first seeking his, Plappart’s, approval. It was a blatant and provocative violation of protocol. Plappart had reminded the director that, in his capacity as financial administrator, it was his duty to issue a caution. Funds were not inexhaustible and the director should observe budgetary limitations. A deferential apology would have been the appropriate response. Instead, Mahler had raised himself up and declared, ‘Your Excellency, that is not the right approach. An imperial institution such as the court opera should feel honoured to spend money in this way — it could not be put to better use. Nevertheless, I shall do my best to take your request into consideration.’

Plappart, not accustomed to being addressed like a subordinate, had been horrified. The memory of that rude dismissal was so vivid that it resounded in his auditory imagination as if the words had only just been spoken.

Nevertheless, I shall do my best to take your request into consideration.

How dare he say such a thing? In the intervening years, Mahler had succeeded in making Plappart an implacable enemy. And now, mused the intendant, he’s doing the same with the orchestra.

Plappart had to make a conscious effort to stop smiling when a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

‘Enter.’

‘The director of the court opera has arrived.’

‘Show him in.’

The servant disappeared and returned with Mahler. As the door closed, the director bowed and allowed his heels to meet, creating a soft click.

‘Excellency!’

‘Herr Director, do come in.’

Plappart did not rise from his seat but gestured toward the empty gilt chair in front of his desk. Mahler strode across the floor, sat down, crossed his legs and leaned forward.

‘You wanted to see me.’

It sounded like an accusation.

‘Yes,’ said Plappart. ‘I received this letter yesterday.’ He held up the sheet of paper. ‘The correspondent has chosen to remain anonymous, but it is clearly written by a member of the orchestra. Unfortunately, it is full of allegations concerning your behaviour, particularly at rehearsals.’

‘Allegations?’

‘Here, read it for yourself.’

Mahler took the letter and studied its contents. When he had finished, he dropped it into the side pocket of his jacket.

‘Thank you, Excellency.’

‘Thank you?’

‘For drawing the matter to my attention. Will that be all?’

Plappart’s expression passed from confusion, through amazement, to outrage.

‘One cannot simply ignore such allegations.’

‘The letter contains nothing new to me. Once again, the same old slanders and smears, the only difference being, perhaps, that this time they are expressed with more venom.’

‘This is a worrying development, Herr Director, particularly after the Deutsche Zeitung article.’

‘Written by the same person, no doubt.’

‘Possibly,’ said Plappart. ‘On the other hand, dissatisfaction in the orchestra may be more widespread than you imagine.’

‘There are always certain parties who resist progress and change. I do not believe that their views are very representative.’

‘Even so, it might be wise to reconsider your working practices.’

‘An orchestra is not a committee. Interpretations are not negotiated and sanctioned by the majority.’

‘I am not suggesting that you cede authority, Herr Director, I am merely suggesting that you treat people with more respect.’

‘Great music is not created by observing points of etiquette.’

‘You forget that the opera house is an imperial and royal institution. It serves the palace and the people. We don’t want a mutiny on our hands. The emperor would be most distressed. Unrest of any kind unsettles him.’ Plappart paused before adding, ‘You understand, I hope, that if problems arise I will have to explain to the lord chamberlain that you were advised to be more flexible.’

Mahler lifted his hand and touched his forehead. He held it there for some time, assuming the attitude of someone rapt in deep contemplation. When he finally removed his hand, he sat up and faced the intendant squarely.

‘Soon after accepting my appointment I was conducting a performance of Die Walkure. In the final act I gave my cue to the timpanist, whom I had carefully rehearsed. He was to produce a long roll. Nothing happened. I glanced in his direction and was astonished to see another man standing in his place. After the performance I demanded an explanation, and was told that because the timpanist lived in Brunn he was obliged to leave early in order to catch the last train. A friend, who lived close by, routinely took up the mallets on his behalf. That is how the philharmonic conducted itself before my arrival.’

‘Discipline was required. A firm hand, I quite agree. But perhaps you have gone too far.’

‘There are many members of the orchestra who appreciate what I have achieved. Not only has their playing improved but they are considerably better off. Who was it that petitioned for an increase in their salaries?’

Plappart did not reply. He rose from his chair and crossed over to the window. While looking out, he said, ‘I have tried to give you good counsel.’

‘And I am most grateful for your concern.’

Mahler stood up to leave.

Plappart turned and extended his arm, reaching out. ‘Herr Director, the letter, if you please?’

His fingers vibrated, a tremulous beckoning.

‘I will return it shortly.’

‘The letter was addressed to me.’

‘But it concerns me.’

‘Herr Director!’ said Plappart sternly.

Mahler bowed.

‘I will return it ‘shortly,’ he repeated. ‘Good morning, Excellency!’ Mahler bowed and marched to the door. As he pulled it shut, Plappart’s cursing followed him into the vestibule. The servant, who was waiting outside, inclined his head politely.