In June, 1789, Mozart worked at the quartets promised to the King. He furnished the one in D major in a month, and received a gold snuff-box with one hundred friedrichsdor. But he was poor, in debt, his wife was often sick, and he wrote in July that he was most unhappy. In December he worked busily on an opera, "Cosi fan tutte," which the Emperor had requested, and Jan. 26, 1780, it was produced with success, although it was not often given. Joseph II. died the 20th of February, and Leopold II. reigned in his stead. Mozart could expect but little of him, and when King Ferdinand of Naples visited Vienna in September, the greatest virtuoso of the town was not asked to play before him, although the royal visitor was passionately fond of music. Meanwhile his expenses were increasing, his pupils falling off. In September he pawned his silver plate to pay the passage, and went to Frankfort to attend the coronation of the Emperor. He gave a concert there, and played two of his own concertos. He went to Mayence, where he is said to have had a love-scrape, then to Munich, where at the request of the Elector he played before the King of Naples. Soon after his return to Vienna he said good-bye for ever to his dear friend Haydn, who went with Salomon to England. He was sore distressed. The position of second Kapellmeister was refused him, and the position of assistant to Hoffmann, the cathedral Kapellmeister, which was granted by the magistrates at his request, "without pay for the present," depended upon the death of Hoffmann, who outlived him. In the midst of his troubles he fell in with strange company, and among his associates was Emanuel Johann Schikaneder, a wandering theatre director, poet, composer, and play-actor. Restless, a bore, vain, improvident, and yet shrewd, he was not without good qualities that had before this won him the friendship of Mozart. In 1791 he was sorely embarrassed. He was the director of the Auf der Wieden, a little theatre, no better than a booth, where comic operas were played and sung. On the verge of failure, he had one thing to console him,--a fairy drama which he had made out of "Lulu, or the Enchanted Flute," a story by Wieland. He asked Mozart to write the music for it; and Mozart, pleased with the _scenario_, accepted, and said, "If I do not bring you out of your trouble, and if the work is not successful, you must not blame me; for I have never written magic music." Schikaneder knew the ease with which Mozart wrote; and he also knew that it was necessary to keep watch over him, that he might be ready at the appointed time. As Mozart's wife was then in Baden, the director found the composer alone, and he put him in a little pavilion, which was in the midst of a garden near his theatre. And in this pavilion and in a room of the casino of Josephdorf the music of "The Magic Flute" was written. Mozart was in a melancholy mood when he began his task, but Schikaneder drove away his doleful dumps by surrounding him with the gay members of the company. There was merry eating, there was clinking of glasses, there was the laughter of women. Here is the origin of many of the exaggerated stories concerning Mozart's dissipated habits. It was long believed that he was then inspired by the melting eyes of the actress Gerl; a story that probably rests on no better foundation than the Mrs. Hofdaemmel tragedy, which even Jahn thought worthy of his attention. "The Magic Flute" was given Sep. 30, at the Auf der Wieden theatre. The composer led the first two performances. The opera at first disappointed the expectations of the hearers, and Mozart was cut to the quick. The opera soon became the fashion, thanks to Schikaneder's obstinacy, so that the two hundredth representation was celebrated in Vienna in October, 1795. It was translated into Dutch, Swedish, Danish, Polish, Italian. It was given in Paris in 1801, under the name of "The Mysteries of Isis"; it was first heard in London in 1811, in Italian.