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"Comedy for music" is the official description of "Der Rosenkavalier." If it was the comedy that was responsible for the music we must be duly grateful to Hugo von Hofmannsthal. For here is one of the few great operas of the twentieth century. It is already fashionable in certain circles to turn up one's nose at the sentimentalism of score. And there is indeed a good deal that is not easily washed down. But as well level a criticism at the opera form itself. Against "Rosenkavaliers" proximity and frequent banality (which are almost germane to Richard Strauss) there are eloquent pages of seemingly undying beauty, such as the reflections of the Marschallin in the first act, the scene of the presentation of the rose in the second and the trio of the last.

Here is music that none but Strauss could have conceived and none could have scored so handsomely. It is in the great line of German art. It emerged as such in spite of last night's mediocre performance by the Metropolitan. Perhaps not "mediocre" but "uneven" is the better word. There were two principals who performed their labors with devotion, high seriousness and thoughtful intensity - Lotte Lehmann and Artur Bodanzky. The latter was handicapped by an orchestra which was also uneven. Fortunately its playing improved as the performance progressed.

Mme. Lehmann's impersonation of the Marschallin is one of the most notable features of the contemporary stage. It has a warmth and humanity that mirror Strauss's music. It is aided by a singing voice that has more than beauty of tone, one that miraculously distills the eternal pathos of fading beauty and on-coming age. There is nothing stagey in Mme. Lehmann's presence or singing, even though, with the sort of competition she encountered last night, there was sufficient provocation for such an attitude. There are only sincerity, dignity and nobility.

The Baron of Mr. List is a fairly satisfactory characterization, which tends (as almost inevitably nowadays) to the buffoon side. There were times when the singer, who was in excellent voice, seemed to forget that Ochs, with all his coarseness, was high-born. There was a reasonable agreement otherwise with the "traditions" though nothing like the security and maturity obvious in Lehmann's behavior.

Mme. Stuckgold's Octavian gained vitality toward the end of the evening, but it was on the whole an unexciting recreation of one of the most grateful roles in opera. Neither the youth nor exuberance was there, though Mme. Stuckgold possessed the comeliness for the part. Nor was her voice particularly ingratiating, again with the reservation that it sounded better in the finale.

Marita Farell was not at home in the character of Sophie. Her voice had not the requisite lyric beauty, and in attempting to conceal its defects she committed the common error of forcing tones, so that the last-act trio was considerably distorted. In her favor was girlish appearance and well-studied stage "business."

Some of the minor characters comported themselves well or acceptably. But there was a good deal of tentativeness about much of the action as well as singing. Mr. Huehn's Faninal, for example, was strictly speaking not sufficiently prepared for a stage with the pretentions of the Metropolitan.

The scenery showed signs of age, and neither it nor the costumes had the opulence or splendor suggested by Strauss's music. It was this fact, as well as any shortcoming in the orchestra pit, which was responsible for the failure of Octavian's entrance in the scene of the rose to achieve the desire argent splendor. Nor was the stage management in general a model of illusion.

The audience applauded very enthusiastically, Mme. Lehmann being the object of particular attention.

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