erated him from all his financial embarrassments, and he was
strongly tempted to accept. But loyalty to his good Emperor Josef
caused him to decline the offer.

The month of July, 1791, found Mozart at home in Vienna at work on a
magic opera to help his friend Salieri, who had taken a little theater
in the suburb of Wieden. One day he was visited by a stranger, a tall
man, who said he came to commission Mozart to compose a Requiem. He
would neither give his own name nor that of the person who had sent
him.

Mozart was somewhat depressed by this mysterious commission; however
he set to work on the Requiem at once. The composing of both this and
the fairy opera was suddenly interrupted by a pressing request that he
would write an opera for the coronation of Leopold II at Prague. The
ceremony was fixed for September 6, so no time was to be lost. Mozart
set out at once for Prague. The traveling carriage was at the door.
As he was about to enter it, the mysterious stranger suddenly appeared
and enquired for the Requiem. The composer could only promise to
finish on his return, when hastily entering his carriage, he drove
away.

The new opera, "La Clemenza di Tito," was finished in time and
performed, but was received somewhat indifferently. Mozart returned to
Vienna with spirits depressed and body exhausted by overwork. However,
he braced himself anew, and on September 30th, the new fairy opera,
the "Magic Flute," was produced, and its success increased with each
performance.

The Requiem was not yet finished and to this work Mozart now turned.
But the strain and excitement he had undergone for the past few months
had done their work: a succession of fainting spells overcame him, and
the marvelous powers which had always been his seemed no longer at his
command. He feared he would not live to complete the work. "It is for
myself I am writing the Requiem," he said sadly to Constanza, one day.

On the evening of December 4, friends who had gathered at his bedside,
handed him, at his desire, the score of the Requiem, and, propped up
by pillows he tried to sing one of the passages. The effort was too
great; the manuscript slipped from his nerveless hand and he fell back
speechless with emotion. A few hours later, on the morning of December
5, 1791, this great master of whom it was prophesied that he would
cause all others to be forgotten, passed from the scene of his many
struggles and greater triumphs.

VII

LUDW