Mozart’s Requiem in D minor leaps out from the annals of music history - for two big reasons.
On the one hand, it is a towering achievement of sacred music. It's also an enduring enigma—an unfinished masterpiece beset by mystery, drama, and controversy.
Its story begins in the late summer of 1791 when Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, already in frail health, received an anonymous commission. It would prove to be the most momentous and shrouded assignment of his final months.
🎵 The Mysterious Commission
In July 1791, Mozart was approached—through a middleman—by a well-dressed, black-clad stranger. This courier delivered an inconspicuously bound document: the Latin text of the Requiem Mass and a note demanding strict secrecy. Mozart, intrigued and flattered, accepted the commission and was paid an initial sum. Yet the commission came with a caveat: the patron remained anonymous and demanded a completed work “grief for me” mounted at some future funeral. Mozart agreed to keep the identity of this mysterious figure hidden.
The Phantom Patron
The mystery commissioner of this Requiem was one Count Franz von Walsegg, a dilettante nobleman known for commissioning musical works anonymously and passing them off at social gatherings, is now the prime suspect. His motive was allegedly to honour his late wife’s passing with a well-crafted Requiem.
Mozart’s correspondence with friends is cryptic: he admits to focusing intensely on the Requiem, even referring to it as if it were his own funeral music—an ominous detail, given his own declining health.
Mozart’s Declining Health and the Musical Obsession
By autumn, Mozart was exhausted, partly from financial stress and a hectic schedule filled with other commissions (notably his operas The Magic Flute and La clemenza di Tito). His health visibly declined: he suffered fever, coughing, and swelling—clear signs that he was near the end.
Yet, despite his illness, Mozart threw himself into writing the Requiem. His wife, Constanze, later alleged that he believed the work was being composed for his own funeral, a notion that haunts accounts of those final weeks. Musically, Mozart poured his deepest emotions into the work: mournful for the 'Requiem aeternam', terrifying in the 'Dies irae', tender in the 'Recordare'. The music brims with urgency, intensity, and an uncanny sense of personal reflection.
Tragedy struck on November 5, 1791: Mozart collapsed in his lodgings. Constanze’s letters and doctor’s reports suggest that he remained convinced the Requiem was for him. On December 5, just one day after completing the first four measures of the 'Lacrimosa', Mozart died—leaving the work heartbreakingly incomplete.
After Mozart’s Death: A Web of Controversy
With Mozart’s passing, the shadowy circumstances surrounding the commission grew more tangled:
1. Constanze and the Mystery
Mozart’s widow Constanze faced mounting debts. She rushed to secure protection for the commission's fee, fearing Count Walsegg would back out due to the Requiem's incomplete state. She turned to Mozart’s student Franz Xaver Süssmayr, who claimed he had worked with Mozart on the opera La clemenza di Tito and was intimately familiar with his style.
2. Süssmayr’s Role
Inspired perhaps by opportunism (and desperate to fulfil the commission), Süssmayr took on the task of completing the Requiem. He arranged the orchestration of unfinished sections, penned the rest of the 'Lacrimosa', and composed the remaining movements—'Sanctus', 'Benedictus', and 'Agnus Dei/Communion'—in Mozart's name. Whether he had thorough sketches or merely fragments to work from remains a matter of debate. Regardless, the Süssmayr completion became the version that went into Count Walsegg’s hands and into circulation.
3. Count Walsegg’s Performance
On December 14, 1793, Walsegg premiered the piece under Mozart’s name—exclusive to his bereaved household. Constanze permitted this performance on count of the payment owed.
4. Forgery, Ownership, and Publication
The Requiem, now falsely attributed entirely to Mozart, was soon published in Vienna. The credibility of Süssmayr's contribution came under scrutiny, worsened by accusations of forgery. Scholars have since argued over whether Mozart had already fleshed out the conclusions, whether Süssmayr merely polished or substantially composed the latter movements.
Shifting authorship: who wrote what?
Modern scholarship has weighed in, reaching these conclusions:
- Authentic Mozart sections include the Introit ('Requiem aeternam'), 'Dies irae', 'Tuba mirum', 'Rex tremendae', 'Recordare', 'Confutatis', 'Lacrimosa' (first eight bars), and orchestration of some lines in 'Quam olim Abrahae' and 'Domine Jesu'.
- Movements largely attributed to Süssmayr are the completed 'Lacrimosa', 'Sanctus', 'Benedictus', and 'Agnus Dei', plus some orchestration in the 'Domine Jesu'.
- Alternative completions (now numerous) by scholars like Franz Beyer, Robert Levin, and Eric Lanfear offer revised versions that trim Süssmayr’s inserts and reconstruct missing parts based on Mozart’s style and harmonic logic.
The myth and the legacy
The Requiem’s story became part of Mozartian lore:
- Legend: Mozart believed he was writing his own funeral music
- Mystery: It was allegedly commissioned by a shadowy stranger under a false identity
- Loss: The work was suddenly abandoned at Mozart’s death
- Debate: Who truly authored the final movements?
These elements have fueled fictional, operatic, and film representations (notably the great 1984 film Amadeus), ensuring public fascination with truth and legend blends in a grisly dance.
A Masterpiece Despite Its Gaps
Completed or not, Mozart’s Requiem lives—timeless, sombre, masterful. Opening with primal lamentation in the 'Requiem aeternam', it traverses terror in 'Dies irae', fragile grief in 'Lacrimosa', calming faith in 'Recordare', and concludes with a sombre serenity, leaving listeners enveloped in both awe and melancholy.
It remains a frequently performed work, part of the Western canon, and its final form—whether artistically incomplete or profoundly human—has inspired conductors, theologians, philosophers, and musicians to reflect on mortality, genius, and collaboration beyond the grave.
Why does all this matter?
Mozart's Requiem leaves a long shadow in music history for several reasons.
- Compositional brilliance: Showcases Mozart’s genius in voice driving symphonic, choral, and dramatic power.
- Cultural mythos: The story of Mozart’s Requiem is a haunting mix of genius, mystery, and myth. Commissioned anonymously by a masked messenger, it was composed as Mozart’s health declined, feeding his fear that he was writing his own funeral music. He died before finishing it, leaving sketches completed by his student. The intrigue surrounding its origin, authorship, and the eerie timing of Mozart’s death has captivated audiences for over two centuries.
- Adaptive tradition: Ongoing scholarly completions confirm its place in classical dialogue—as both artifact and living legacy.
- Emotional resonance: Whether heard as a funeral testament or universal requiem, Mozart's Requiem remains extraordinarily moving and potent.
The Requiem Mass in D minor stands as a testament not just to Mozart the musician, but also to Mozart the mortal. In death’s shadow, his angelic harmonies endure—haunting, consoling, unresolved. It is precisely in its incomplete, posthumously finished state that the Requiem achieves its singular mystery—an echo of genius cut short, yet finished by human hands, that still asks questions of composer and listener alike.
Mozart's Requiem: three great recordings
1. Karl Böhm; Vienna Philharmonic (Deutsche Grammophon, 1971)
A classic, reverent interpretation steeped in Central European tradition. Böhm leads a stately and deeply expressive reading, with warmth and weight from the Vienna Philharmonic and standout soloists like soprano Edith Mathis.
Perfect if you want: grandeur and emotional depth, with a clear connection to the Austro-German performance lineage.
2. John Eliot Gardiner; English Baroque Soloists (Archiv, 1986)
For a historically informed performance, Gardiner’s brisk, lean interpretation offers urgency and clarity. Using period instruments and original pitch, he strips away romantic weight for a taut, transparent sound. The Monteverdi Choir brings precision and passion.
Perfect if you want: A thrillingly direct and raw version that gets closer to what Mozart might have heard.
3. Herbert von Karajan; Berlin Philharmonic (DG, 1976)
Karajan’s version is luxurious, atmospheric, and operatic. The Berlin Philharmonic brings unmatched polish, and Karajan shapes the Requiem with sweeping drama and intensity. The choral forces are rich and resonant, lending a sense of cinematic scale.
Perfect if you want: a grand, emotionally charged approach with high production values.
Pics: Getty Images