Biography:Perhaps one of the most famous musicians of the 20th century was the cellist, Mstislav Rostropovich, who died yesterday in Moscow. As a performer and a teacher he leapt to prominence in his native Russia, becoming a celebrity under a system where such status was discouraged. This book, by a former pupil, describes in detail his career as a professional cellist and soloist up until the point when he left his native Russia and came to live in the West in 1974.
Elizabeth Wilson is an English woman who went to Russia to study with Rostropovich in Class 19 of the Moscow Conservatoire from 1964 until 1971, so her insights into the teaching methods of the master are very revealing. There are a few passages which may only make sense to cellists, where, for example, the shoulder angles and bowing techniques required in order to produce a particular musical effect are described in detail, and while a musician from another discipline can relate to what is being said in a general sense, a cellist with a tactile understanding of the mechanics involved is probably going to gain a great deal more. Indeed, I found myself envying those who would be able to gain a physical understanding of some of the techniques described because the instructions are so real and well articulated that I found myself physically wanting to try them out, almost sensing what was being described.
In relation to the performance work and life of Rostropovich, again Wilson provides revealing insights. Attending classes with Rostropovich wasn't just about going to a weekly cello lesson. At the first lesson a student was often given a baptism of fire, nearly always being given a full concerto to learn from memory on a Tuesday, before the next lesson, which was, inevitably, not one week, but two days later, on the Thursday. Rostropovich expected his students to drive themselves as hard as he drove himself, which was an almost impossible task, as he apparently trained himself from early on to survive on three hours' sleep a night.
The book is structured in such a way that the culminating chapter on the final years in the Soviet Union becomes almost cathartic in its effect. While the first eight chapters flow uninterrupted, the final six have interviews with former students inserted in the interstices. While this at first may seem contrived, the overall effect is to create the sense of impending catastrophe, which is completed by the final chapter and epilogue. While it was an immense boost to the cultural life of the West, Rostropovich's move to the West was one of immense proportions in psychological terms for the musical life of the Soviet Union. Rostropovich's loss undoubtedly was one of the cultural nails in the coffin of the Soviet Union and was brought about by his unyielding support for his friend, the writer Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, who was being hounded by the authorities for his writings. (The extent to which the authorities tried to control the thinking of the masses was vividly brought home to this reader by the fact that the day before I read that Mischa Maisky, one of Rostropovich's star pupils, was imprisoned for 14 months in the Butyrki prison camp, I had been to hear Maisky himself playing in person.) The letter Rostropovich courageously wrote in 1970 to the editors of Pravda, Isvestiya, Literaturnaya Gazeta and Sovetskaya Kultura in support of his friend is included in an appendix. As a result of its publication, Rostropovich was banned from performing, resulting in a period of extreme difficulty for him which lead ultimately to his defection.
BUT IN SPITE of the foregoing, far from being grim, the book bubbles with the effervescence which seems to have followed Rostropovich wherever he went. The stories of his pranks are wittily retold. On one occasion, given that he had to submit every programme he played to the Ministry of Culture for ratification, and in frustration for a telling off he had received from the ministry for not doing so in the case of an American concert, he submitted an entire programme of completely non-existent pieces over the telephone to an unsuspecting official. "We have to have some Bach, what about the seventh suite for solo cello, the one in F minor?","Yes, good idea!", "A Mozart Sonata? The fourth?", "Very good", "Scriabin's Cello Sonata?", "Yes". When word got around of this prank, a ministry official conceded that "Rostropovich has ridden over us like a tank", an expression soon repeated all over Moscow.
Wilson has spent 10 years researching this book, and her dedication to her subject has produced a volume which should be on every musician's shelf.
Fergus Johnston is a composer living in Dublin. He has just returned from Bulgaria, where he had three concerts of his music performed in a Contemporary Music Festival organised by the Orange Factory
Mstislav Rostropovich: Cellist, Teacher, Legend By Elizabeth Wilson Faber & Faber, 382pp. £25