Having narrowly escaped death, I felt invincible. Vienna disagreed and remained doubtful of my genius. Audiences listened politely and watched carefully, waiting for signs of trickery. Convincing them of my talent turned out to be harder than eating my own weight in pastries.
Many assumed that compositions were Father’s work and my improvisations were carefully staged. This skepticism was not entirely unreasonable. Most of what I played spontaneously had been heard and memorized before. Gradually, Vienna warmed up to me and the nobles’ requests grew more challenging: “Play in B flat!”, “No, in D minor!”, “Make it sound like a waterfall!”, “No, like a thunderstorm!” I found this exhilaratingly amusing and obliged willingly.
On a more productive note, I completed my first Mass for the consecration of the Orphanage Church[i]. Father insisted that I conduct the premiere myself, believing it would strengthen my reputation with the Viennese elite. So, imagine this scene: a twelve-year-old boy standing before the imperial family and distinguished clergy, nervously waving his short arms to lead a soaring Kyrie.
It felt almost out of this world. When the music ended, the church fell silent. Then, everyone erupted in thunderous applause that almost knocked the candles off the altar. For a brief moment, Vienna stopped asking how the music was made and accepted that it simply was. I felt, perhaps for the first time, that I truly belonged.
[i] The Missa solemnis in C minor (K. 139/47a) was composed in the summer of 1768. It was commissioned by Father Ignaz Parhammer and nicknamed Waisenhausmesse (Orphanage Mass). The first performance took place on December 7th, 1768, at the church.