A Prodigy Comes of Age

One instant she looked like a puckish milkmaid, the next like Ophelia going mad. The music was Schumann's cello concerto, a rapturous, heart-on-the-sleeve piece that was clearly intended to sear, not soothe, the savage breast. The cellist was Britain's Jacqueline Du Pre, who performed last week in Manhattan with Leonard Bernstein's New York Philharmonic. It was a performance to be seen as much as heard, for Du Pre couldn't sit still a minute.

Swathed in acres of floor-length red chiffon, she attacked her cello in ungainly frenzy, reaching forward to take a massive chop with her bow, arching her back, tossing her head, closing in on the cello again and again.

If her stage presence seemed a little mannered, Jacqueline Du Pre could be forgiven. She is only 22, and her exuberance is part of her considerable talent. Her musicianship is anything but immature, however. Her sound is rich and round, her technique impeccable, and her sweeping phrases captivating. She has been compared by some critics to the late great Portuguese cellist Guilhermina Suggia and even Pablo Casals. That may be premature--but only somewhat.

Big Enough. Seldom have women tackled the cello with such power. In this century, Suggia (1888-1950) was one of the few women with sufficient strength to compete on equal terms with men. Jacqueline Du Pre is big enough, both musically and physically (5 ft. 9 in., 150 Ibs.), perhaps because she literally grew up with a cello. The daughter of an English business executive, she was four years old when she heard the instrument played on a BBC broadcast in London. "All I remember," she says, "is that it had a nice sound. So I asked Mother for a cello."

Her mother, a concert pianist under her maiden name, Iris Greep, went out and bought the first one she saw, a three-quarter length box that served until Jacqueline was six and began taking lessons at the London Cello School. She progressed so brilliantly that at the age of eleven she won the Suggia International Cello Award. After seven years of tutoring under London Cellist William Pleeth, she worked for five months in Moscow with Mstislav Rostropovich.

No Neuroses. The two most generous compliments she ever received came anonymously. In 1961, a nameless but extravagant fan contributed enough money to enable her to buy a 1673 Stradivarius now valued at $12,000. Two years ago, another anonymous admirer shelled out $90,000 for Jacqueline's other Strad--the famous "Davidov," once owned by the 19th century Russian cellist Carl Davidov. "The first has an earthy, peasant sound," Jacqueline says. "The Davidov is fine and clear. The extraordinary thing is that the wood still lives after 300 years."

It is also extraordinary that though she plays with all the maturity and confidence of her instruments, Jacqueline suffers none of the neuroses of a former prodigy. Her temperament is as direct and gay as her cello is brooding and introspective. She lives in a London flat and loves the city's mod fashions, but unfortunately, she says, "I couldn't wear a miniskirt and play the cello."

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