Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1867-07-23

iieIic 1HIpS WIlO SeeHf CO udnCe 20 the melOQy
that haunts the brain of their progenitor. :
Worthy employment this for man whose Pc
rlod OF existence is limited to three score and
| ten years! At last it is accomplished after myr-
lads Of scratchings and myriads of dippings of
pen into the inkstand. With complacency the
poor wretch looks upon his finished work which
| came near finishing him. Already he chuckles
at the idea of raising suf6ciency to keep him
from perishing at least for awhile. The painter
beholds his colors glow into life beneath his
hand, the sculptor and the architect with each
new stroke give beauty to mass of deformity
and see their work approaching nearer compile
ton; but the composer after all his labor sees
only sheet of curious characters before him
but he exclaims 'They are the talisman by
which | shall touch the pockets of the liberal
publisher; they are the key to fame that shall
be as lasting as the eternal hills!'
At least an inch taller than he was when he
commenced his great conception, he struts with
his manuscript to the publisher. That gentle
men, whose only knowledge of music is derived
from the clink of dollars, whose only notes are
from his press nothing but what will bring him
in hundred fold profit, receives the labored
composition with cold indifference. The author
plays it for hint is, no doubt, very fne-but
will it pay? At length the trembling musician
anxiously asks him how much he will give for
the composition? Surprise and disgust are de-
picted in the face of the worldly -'Give!"
exclaims he-''I thought, sir, you wished to
pay me for giving your work to the world. Oh,
no-that kind of music don't pay-if it did, we
publishers, who run all the risk could CLEAN
| from the old masters; Or, if we choose, violate
the copyright laws of all Europe
No meal for that poor, half-starved wretch
| that day. With a heavy heart he rolls up his
manuscript, pockets it and the affront too, and
sneaks back to his gloomy chamber in the attic
to philosophize with his friendly spider. Will
any one tell us what are the incentives to genius
in this country?
Herr Klineberg was musical enthusiast as
we'll as the psalm-singing Deacon, but he had
| refined talent and an education, urged on by
natural genius to back him. As a practical
musician he was much behind the many i'm
ported concert players who became profcients
in half-dozen pieces of popular character,
and then let themselves out to spectators for
the purpose Of gulling the musical dilettants of
| large cities mere automata who are wound up
to perform certain number of tunes in given
| time We have seen some of the best masters
of the theory of music performing nightly at
| theatres or larger-beer saloons for mere pit
tance scholars, who had forgotten more than
the fashionable musical mountebanks ever
dreamed of! Klineberg was theorist and a
composer of the school Of Gluck; yet his fingers
were not glib, nor had he the power of Orpheus
| to make the rocks and trees dance Failing in
his endeavors to establish his reputation as a
maestro in the several cities he visited on this
side the Atlantic he accepted the humble situa-
ton of teacher in female seminary near Fudge
town, with small pay and small display. He
was an old man, and, like most men of genius,
very testy-though good heart beat under his
rough exterior. Having thus given simple
sketch of Herr Kineberg, the reader will please
go with us to his room after the labors of the
day were over.
He sat with his pipe in his mouth ever and
anon putting away large volumes of tobacco
smoke and turning over the leaves of manu-
script score occasionally humming the melody
and drumming in cadence on the plain pine
table on which he leaned.
''Dat is goot," said he to himself ''Te boy
hash got talent No consecutive fifths and
only twice hidden octaves. Dat deminished
seventh is in goot taste-ze modulation we're
| Gne.''
His reyerie was interrupted by gentle rap
on the door, and almost Immediately Preston
Wallace, Efe's friend and her fathers clerk,
entered the dingy apartment.
"Good evening, Professor" exclaimed he, Of
fering his hand and bowling almost reverential-
ly 81 have come little earlier than usual to
day, as Mr.. Potts wishes to be at the prayer
meeting before dark, and, you know he will not
allow the store to be closed before nine O'Clock,
unless it be on nights of choir rehearsal"
'Yes, I knows all dat" replied Herr Kline
berg, putting down his pipe. ''How ish mine
little Effie? A got schild dat
''She is we'll, but low spirited" answered
Preston. "Her father is determined to make
her proficient in music without your aid, and
keeps her from morning till night pouring over
thorough base and counterpart, until the poo,
creature is half crazed"
Il dinks he had peter teach himself first.
What de tyvel does he know about thorough
base?'
''Very little, I'm sure," replied the young
man ''yet he undertook to alter the harmony
of Haydn to suit his purposes
'He is a pig FOOL" exclaimed Klineberg,
bringing his hand forcibly down upon the table
''unt rascal father for abusing dat sweet little
angel. But come-how you get on?"
"Oh-very well, if you alude to my affai,
with Efie," was the reply, with some little en-
barrassment "She has told me over and ovel
that she loves me, and on that rests my hope.