Opera Der Rosenkavalier Program Notes, Sheet Music and Recordings

Program Notes & Analysis

A Comedy for a World That Was Vanishing

In 1909, Richard Strauss was the most terrifying and radical composer in the world. His one-act opera Elektra had just premiered, a work of such brutal, expressionistic violence and dissonant, "atonal" harmony that it seemed the "rules" of music had been broken forever. How, then, did the same man, just two years later, produce Der Rosenkavalier? This opera, a lush, melodic, and overwhelmingly tonal comedy, is one of the greatest "pivots" in music history. The answer lies in his collaborator, the poet Hugo von Hofmannsthal. Hofmannsthal, a master of text, essentially "tamed" the Strauss-ian "beast." He proposed a "Mozartian" comedy, a story of "powder and crinoline," of love, loss, and social manners. Strauss, delighted, threw his entire, massive post-Wagnerian orchestral machine at it. The result is the ultimate paradox: an 18th-century "comedy of manners" told with the full, decadent, psychological force of a 20th-century symphony. It is an opera that is not "historical," but nostalgic. It is a dream of a lost, idealized 18th-century Vienna, written just before the "real" Vienna of the 1910s, and the entire Austro-Hungarian Empire, was about to be swept away forever by World War I.

A Mozartian Opera with a Wagnerian Orchestra

Der Rosenkavalier is, in its very DNA, a loving homage to Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Le nozze di Figaro. Hofmannsthal’s libretto is a mirror: we have the noble, slightly sad Countess (the Marschallin) who must deal with a boorish, lecherous man (Baron Ochs). We have the clever, disguised lovers. And, most importantly, we have the "trouser role." The part of Octavian, the 17-year-old lover, is written for a mezzo-soprano, just as Mozart wrote the part of the amorous pageboy Cherubino for a woman. This creates a unique vocal "color," allowing the "lovers'" duets to blend in a way that two male/female voices cannot. But if the plot is pure Mozart, the music is pure, uncut Richard Wagner. Strauss uses a colossal orchestra that Wagner would have envied. The score is a dense, complex web of leitmotifs (recurring musical themes) that represent not just people, but objects (the silver rose) and abstract ideas (the Marschallin's "time"). He took Mozart’s light, classical "farce" and re-heated it with the full, erotic, and psychological fire of Tristan und Isolde.

The Anachronism of the Waltz

The most famous "character" in the opera is the waltz. The score is saturated with waltzes, from the soaring, romantic themes of Octavian to the clumsy, lurching, "oom-pah" music of Baron Ochs. But here is the great, deliberate "mistake" of the opera: Der Rosenkavalier is set in the 1740s, and the Viennese waltz is a creature of the 1840s, the era of Johann Strauss. This anachronism is the entire point. Strauss and Hofmannsthal are not writing history; they are writing memory. The waltz is the musical "symbol" of Vienna itself, a sound of intoxicating, spinning, decadent romance. It is the "perfume" of a golden age. By placing a 19th-century "pop music" into an 18th-century setting, Strauss creates a "dream time," a nostalgic fantasy of "what Vienna must have been like." It is this anachronism that gives the opera its unique, bittersweet, and "unreal" flavor.

The Three Sopranos: The Faces of Love

The opera is a unique celebration of the female voice. It is, in essence, a drama for three sopranos (or two sopranos and a high mezzo), each representing a different stage of a woman's life and love.

• The Marschallin (The Moon): The Princess von Werdenberg is the true protagonist and the opera's philosophical heart. She is the "autumnal" woman, aware that her time as a great lover is ending. Her greatness is not in her passion, but in her wisdom. Her famous Act I monologue, "Die Zeit, die ist ein sonderbar Ding" (Time is a strange thing), is one of the most profound moments in all of opera. She stops the "comedy" dead in its tracks to reflect on her own aging, her fading youth, and the "sacred" duty of letting go. Her music is the most complex, the warmest, and the most deeply melancholic.

• Octavian (The Sun/The Knight): The 17-year-old Count Octavian is the "Knight of the Rose." He is a "trouser role," and he is the opera's engine. He is pure, aristocratic, 17-year-old passion. His music is fiery, soaring, and relentlessly romantic. He is the "hero" who begins the opera as the Marschallin's "boy" and ends as his "own man," a transformation that is both triumphant and heartbreaking.

• Sophie (The Star): The "ingénue." But Sophie is not a "wilting" victim like Puccini’s Mimì. She is a "modern" 18th-century girl, the daughter of a newly-rich "new money" father. She has been raised in a convent, but she has a spine of steel. She is horrified by the boorish Ochs and, in a brilliant comic-serious aria, she ticks off his faults, one by one. Her music is all high, glittering, silvery, and "innocent," but it is a "strong" innocence, not a "weak" one.

The Presentation of the Rose

The opera’s single most magical moment—and one of the most transportive in all of art—is the "Presentation of the Rose" in Act II. Octavian, as the Marschallin's knight, arrives at Faninal's palace to present the traditional silver engagement rose to Sophie, on behalf of her intended, Baron Ochs. But the moment Octavian and Sophie lock eyes, the opera stops. The music changes completely. The orchestra shimmers into a "holy," ethereal, and "silver" sound, a sound of celesta, flutes, and harps. The two young voices blend in a duet that is not "passionate" or "erotic," but "transcendent." It is the sound of two souls recognizing each other for the first time. It is "love at first sight," frozen in music of such unbearable beauty that it feels as if it is not from this world. It is the "ideal" of love, and the rest of the opera is the "reality" that must contend with it.

The Shadow: Baron Ochs

The entire, complex plot is driven by the "villain," Baron Ochs auf Lerchenau. He is one of the greatest "comic bass" roles ever written. But he is not a "jolly" fool. He is a "grotesque." He is the lecherous, greedy, arrogant, and "old" aristocratic world that is about to be swept away. He is a "country" aristocrat who has come to the "city" to (as he sees it) "buy" a rich, "new money" wife (Sophie) while simultaneously trying to seduce a "chambermaid" (the disguised Octavian). His music is a masterpiece of "clumsiness." He is the "master" of the anachronistic waltz, but his waltzes are "lumbering," "lurching," and "oom-pah"-driven. He is a walking, talking, "wrong-note" waltz, the perfect, "earthy" bass foil to the high, "silver" music of the three sopranos. The entire climax of Act II, where he is tricked, exposed, and humiliated in a Viennese inn, is a chaotic farce of "mistaken identity" that is a direct, loving homage to the Act II finale of Mozart's Figaro.

The Final Trio: The Great Let-Go

The opera's true climax is not the comic defeat of Ochs. It is the quiet, psychological masterpiece that follows: the final "Trio." Ochs has been vanquished. The Marschallin, Octavian, and Sophie are left alone on stage. This is the moment of truth. The Marschallin, with a gesture of sublime grace, must "give" her young lover to the new, young woman. The music begins, and it is a sublime, soaring, and utterly heartbreaking weave of the three female voices. We hear the Marschallin's pained wisdom, Sophie's innocent, radiant love, and Octavian's torn, youthful, and confused heart, all at the same time. The Marschallin, in a final act of renunciation, sings her last "Ja, ja" ("Yes, yes"), blesses the "children," and leaves the stage. She has "stopped the clocks" in her own heart. The opera ends with Octavian and Sophie, left alone, singing a simple, shimmering, almost childlike final love duet. It is the most beautiful "surrender" in all of music. The Marschallin, the opera's true, tragic hero, has triumphed over her own heart, and, in doing so, has allowed the new, young world to begin.

The Story of the Opera

Act I: The Marschallin's Bedroom

Early morning. The Marschallin (a 32-year-old Princess) and her 17-year-old lover, Count Octavian, are in her bed, finishing a night of passion. Their tryst is interrupted by a noise. The Marschallin, thinking her husband has returned, panics. Octavian hides and quickly disguises himself as a "chambermaid," "Mariandel." The visitor, however, is not her husband, but her oafish, country-cousin, Baron Ochs. Ochs has come to ask for two favors: a "loan" and a recommendation for a "Knight of the Rose" (a Rosenkavalier) to present the traditional silver engagement rose to his new fiancée, Sophie von Faninal, the daughter of a wealthy, newly-ennobled arms dealer. While Ochs boorishly explains his "gold-digging" marriage plot, he is simultaneously, and crudely, trying to "seduce" the pretty new "chambermaid," Mariandel. Ochs's lechery disgusts the Marschallin. She suggests Octavian as the "Knight of the Rose." After a long, comic "levee" of hairdressers, petitioners, and an Italian tenor (who sings a brief, brilliant seria aria), the Marschallin is left alone. She is plunged into a deep melancholy, singing her famous monologue about her fading youth and the "passing of time." Octavian returns, and she tells him that, "today or tomorrow" (Heut' oder morgen), he will leave her for a younger woman. He protests, but he doesn't understand. She dismisses him, then, realizing she let him go without a kiss, she sends her page, Mohammed, after him with the silver rose.

Act II: The Presentation of the Rose

In the garish, "new money" palace of Herr von Faninal. Sophie, his daughter, nervously awaits the arrival of the Rosenkavalier. Octavian enters, dressed in magnificent silver-and-white. This is the famous "Presentation of the Rose." He and Sophie present the rose, and, as they sing their "ethereal" duet, they instantly fall in love. Baron Ochs arrives and shatters the magic. He is crude, insulting, and treats Sophie like "property" he has just purchased. Octavian is horrified. As Ochs is in another room, Octavian and Sophie declare their "new" love, but they are overheard by Ochs's spies (Annina and Valzacchi). Ochs is merely amused, but Octavian, his aristocratic honor insulted, draws his sword and challenges Ochs to a duel. In the scuffle, Octavian, the superior swordsman, "pinks" the Baron, giving him a tiny, superficial scratch on the arm. Ochs screams as if he is dying. The entire household erupts in chaos. In the middle of this, Octavian's spies, Annina and Valzacchi, "switch sides" and offer their services to him. Ochs is left on the couch, drinking, as Annina brings him a note from the "chambermaid" Mariandel, asking for a rendezvous. Ochs, his ego restored, joyfully plans his "date."

Act III: The Trap

A private room in a seedy, dark inn. The "trap" is set. Octavian, dressed as Mariandel, is on a "date" with Baron Ochs. The scene is a masterpiece of chaos. Octavian (as Mariandel) is coy, and Ochs is lecherous. Suddenly, the "show" begins: faces appear at windows, a "jilted wife" (Annina in disguise) rushes in, claiming Ochs is her husband, and a flock of "children" swarm him, all yelling "Papa! Papa!" Ochs, in a panic, calls for the police. The Police Commissioner arrives and, to Ochs's horror, demands to see the "chambermaid's" papers. Ochs, trying to save himself, claims that "Mariandel" is, in fact, his fiancée, Sophie von Faninal. This is the exact moment that Sophie's father, Herr von Faninal, arrives. He is horrified and humiliated. He immediately calls off the wedding. Ochs, now trapped from all sides, is stripped of his "dignity." The Marschallin, who has been "summoned" by Ochs's servants, makes a grand entrance. She calmly assesses the entire, ridiculous situation. She reveals that "Mariandel" is, in fact, Octavian. Ochs, finally understanding he has been the fool, is dismissed in disgrace. The stage clears, leaving only the Marschallin, Octavian, and Sophie. This is the final, heartbreaking "Trio." The Marschallin, with a gesture of sublime grace, gives Octavian to Sophie. She blesses the "young love" and, her heart broken, nobly leaves the room. Octavian and Sophie, alone, sing their final, shimmering love duet, "Ist ein Traum" (It is a dream). The opera ends as they kiss, and the Marschallin's young page, Mohammed, runs in to retrieve a dropped handkerchief.