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They were difficult years. Each foreign plaudit that fell upon Solzhenitsyn was followed by a turn of the Kremlin's screw at the dacha. As Rostropovich tells it, "Official people said I must kick him out. My wife and I did not find that reasonable. We explained our point of view—that each human being has a right to make of his life what he wants." In October 1970 Solzhenitsyn won the Nobel Prize. When the Soviet press increased its abuse of the author, Rostropovich became enraged and decided to write a letter of protest. Says he: "This was greatest step of my life—the greatest!
With my whole soul I said, 'Now I will not be silent.' " He addressed his letter to four Soviet papers, all of which refused to publish it. But he gave copies to Western newsmen. Referring to the officials who pass upon art in the Soviet Union, Slava asked: "Explain to me, please, why in our literature and art so often people absolutely incompetent in this field have the final word? . . . Every man must have the right fearlessly to think independently and express his opinion about what he In knows, what he has personally thought about, experienced, and not merely to express with slightly different variations the opinion which has been inculcated in him."
Solzhenitsyn was eventually exiled. Rostropovich and his wife were punished in other ways. Recalls Slava: "I said to Galina, 'After this you will have many difficulties. If you want, we can have an official divorce.' She said, 'No, absolutely not.' " Without explanation, Galina was given only infrequent assignments at the Bolshoi; when she did appear, her name was left off the printed program. Similarly, when her recordings were played on the radio, her name was omitted from the announcer's list. Says she: "I would listen to myself being obliterated." Slava adds: "It was like a slow-motion plan against us. Step by step. Already, our names could not appear in newspapers. My recordings were not played on the state radio." When he performed with Pianist Sviatoslav Richter, only Richter's name appeared in the next day's reviews. Rostropovich concerts were canceled everywhere. "I request engagements in other countries," says Slava, "and Ministry send telegrams saying, 'Rostropovich ill.' They cancel my television appearances. Why? They say, 'Oh, Rostropovich is not very talented. He is bad cellist.' Suddenly, I do not exist—like a miracle! Now in Belgrade people talking about human rights. But what kind of human rights have you when they just push button and you do not exist? If I go back to Moscow, somebody would come to me in street and say, 'What? You still alive?' "
The worst moments came in the late summer of 1973. Galina and Slava sailed down the Volga to give concerts and recitals in small riverside towns—the only places left to them. But in city after city, they found that the engagements had been canceled or that the posters announced the music without naming them as performers. In despair, Slava wrote a letter to Leonid Brezhnev: "Please, I have already given up concerts abroad. I only conduct in my own country. Please help me. If this situation is not changed, I will have to give up music in my country."