Once arrived at the Cantorei, Josef plunged into his studies with great fervor, and his progress was most rapid.  He was now possessed with a desire to compose, but had not the slightest idea how to go about such a feat.  However, he hoarded every scrap of music paper he could find and covered it with notes.  Reutter gave no encouragement to such proceedings.  One day he asked what the boy was about, and when he heard the lad was composing a “Salve Regina,” for twelve voices, he remarked it would be better to write it for two voices before attempting it in twelve.  “And if you must try your hand at composition,” added Reutter more kindly, “write variations on the motets and vespers which are played in church.”

As neither the Capellmeister nor any of the teachers offered to show Josef the principles of composition, he was thrown upon his own resources.  With much self denial he scraped together enough money to buy two books which he had seen at the second hand bookseller’s and which he had longed to possess.  One was Fox’s “Gradus ad Parnassum,” a treatise on composition and counterpoint; the other Matheson’s “The Complete Capellmeister.”  Happy in the possession of these books, Josef used every moment outside of school and choir practise to study them.  He loved fun and games as well as any boy, but music always came first.  The desire to perfect himself was so strong that he often added several hours each day to those already required, working sixteen or eighteen hours out of the twenty-four.

And thus a number of years slipped away amid these happy surroundings.  Little Josef was now a likely lad of about fifteen years.  It was arranged that his younger brother Michael was to come to the Cantorei.  Josef looked eagerly forward to this event, planning how he would help the little one over the beginning and show him the pleasant things that would happen to him in the new life.  But the elder brother could not foresee the sorrow and privation in store for him.  From the moment Michael’s pure young voice filled the vast spaces of the cathedral, it was plain that Josef’s singing could not compete with it.  His soprano showed signs of breaking, and gradually the principal solo parts, which had always fallen to him, were given to the new chorister.  On a special church day, when there was more elaborate music, the “Salve Regina,” which had always been given to Josef, was sung so beautifully by the little brother, that the Emperor and Empress were delighted, and they presented the young singer with twenty ducats.

Poor Josef!  He realized that his place was virtually taken by the brother he had welcomed so joyously only a short time before.  No one was to blame of course; it was one of those things that could not be avoided.  But what actually caused him to leave St. Stephen’s was a boyish prank played on one of the choir boys, who sat in front of him.  Taking up a new pair of shears lying near, he snipped off, in a mischievous