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Mozart's "Marriage of Figaro," last night's offering at the Metropolitan Opera House, was newsworthy for the first appearance as the Countess Almaviva of Polyna Stoska. Musically it was distinguished by the solid pacing and clean conducting of Fritz Busch. Otherwise it was undistinguished, though it did show the strength of a well routined production under the strain of major cast changes.

Those changes represented the gravest theatrical emergency the house has had to face this season. With one major role, that of the Countess, already cast in new hands, the illness of Italo Tajo, slated for Figaro, caused the recasting of two other big parts John Brownlee, who usually sings the Count, was moved into the name role, while Francesco Valentino undertook that of the Count. At 6 o'clock a rehearsal was begun with the new cast. At 8 the curtain rose. It is to everybody's credit that the performance went off smoothly. It was not, however, ideal. Everybody was a little bit ineffective, even those accustomed to their lines and costumes.

Miss Stoska was vocally efficient, as always, if a little stiff in expression. Her "Dove sono" aria was admirably intoned (and how difficult that air is to intone!) but lacking in warmth. Perhaps she was unhappy in her clothes. The first costume, with hair massed at the back of the neck, like a Los Angeles waitress, made her look too young for the part, while the court costume in which she sang the "Dove sono" made her look too old. There might have passed thirty years between morning and afternoon. Miss Stoska can sing, all the same; and I suspect she may make in the long run an excellent and dependable Countess.

Two other moments, besides. Miss Stoska's solos, had musical charm. Rise Stevens sang the "Voi che sapete" sweetly, graciously and straightforwardly; and the duet between Bidu Sayao and Miss Stoska, or the Letter Scene, was in every way musical and a pleasure. Miss Sayao did some hamming with the guitar, however, in the Music Lesson scene that should be quickly and firmly corrected. For an actress of her experience to spoil another's song by constant fidgeting for attention is neither intelligent nor loyal.?

What happened in the last act I do not know; I never know, unless I have been to a matinee and am under no deadline obligation. The first three acts were musically clean enough, dramatically unconvincing, generally tame, though three or four good musical numbers animated the spectacle momentarily. The voices were on the whole weak, and the enunciation was as ineffective as could well be imagined. Not one sentence of recitative could I understand in Row M. Only Fritz Busch was dependable. His tempos were sound, his orchestra balanced and clear, almost too clear for a cast dominated by small voices and insecurity.

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