“An opportunity soon presented itself for Albrecht to carry out his evil and envious designs.  The Court Kapellmeister died, and not long after this event a great feast was to be held at Court to celebrate Princess Kunigmunde’s birthday.  The Emperor had offered a prize, a wreath of gilt laurels, as well as the post of Court Kapellmeister to him who should compose the most beautiful piece of music in his daughter’s honour.  Franz seemed so certain of success that nobody even dared to compete with him except Albrecht.

“When the hour of the contest came—­it took place in the great throne-room before the Emperor, the Empress, their sons, their daughters, and the whole court after the banquet—­Franz was the first to display his work.  He sat down at the clavichord and sang what he had composed in honour of the Princess.  He had made three little songs for her.  Franz had not much voice, but it had a peculiar wail in it, and he sang, like the born and trained musician that he was, with that absolute mastery over his means, that certain perfection of utterance, that power of conveying, to the shade of a shade, the inmost spirit and meaning of the music which only belong to those great and rare artists whose perfect art is alive with the inspiration that cannot be learnt.

“The first song he sang was the call of a home-going shepherd to his flock on the hills at sunset, and when he sang it he brought the largeness of the dying evening and the solemn hills into the elegant throne-room.  The second song was the cry of a lonely fisherman on the river at midnight, and as he sang it he brought the mystery of broad starlit waters into the taper-lit, gilded hall.  The third song was the song of the happy lover in the orchard at dawn.  And when he sang it he brought the smell of dewy leaves and grass, the soaring radiance of spring and early morning, to that powdered and silken assembly.  The Court applauded him, but they were astonished and slightly disappointed, for they had expected something grand and complicated, and not three simple tunes.  But the nobleman who had educated Franz, and his Kapellmeister, who were among the guests, wept tears in silence.

“Albrecht followed him.  The swarthy singer sat down to the instrument and struck a ringing chord.  He had a pure and infinitely powerful tenor voice, clear as crystal, loud as a clarion, strong, rich, and rippling.  He sang a love-song he had composed himself.  He called it ’The Homage of King Pan to the Princess.’  It was voluptuous and vehement and sweet as honey, full of bold conceits and audacious turns and trills, which startled the audience and took their breath away.  He sang his song with almost devilish skill and power; and his warm, captivating voice rang through the room and shook the tall window-panes, and finally died away like the vibrations of a great bell.  The whole Court shouted, delirious with applause, and unanimously declared him to be the victor.  A witty courtier said that Marsyas had avenged himself on Apollo; but the nobleman and his Kapellmeister snorted and sniffed and said nothing.  Albrecht was given the prize and appointed Kapellmeister to the Court without further discussion.