The Neihart herald. [volume] (Neihart, Mont.) 1890-1901, 1892-11-05
STORY OF A WALTZ.

Jacques Ofenbach, the author of the follow
ing story, is the well known composer of light
c1era:l
Ny mother and sisters used to lull
me to sleep by singing to me a sweet,
slow waltz. | had never heard all
of it. The first eight bars were the
only parts Of it that ] knew. Per
haps those loved ones themselves
yer ignorant of the rest. These
eight bars haunted me-fXed them
selves Oh my brain with all the
greater force because my charmed
heart opened wide all the doors to
them. Did not each note bring to
me a thousand tender recOllectiOns?
When they fitted through my mind
| say our old home-my fathers
home. / heard the voices of all those
from whom ! had long been sepa-
rated, whom | had loved and who
had loved me most warmly.
was in Paris all alone, earning
my daily bread by playing the VIC.
~loncello in the orchestra of the Opera
Comique. | was then at an age
when most children are still at
school, with many years of school
days still before them. Although !
was quietly jogging on toward the
future, | regretted the past. Soil
tude was sometimes very oppressive
to me-.
This waltz, though nothing very
wonderful, had at last come to as
sumo proportions in my mind. 1t
had ceased to be a mere waltz. 1t
had become almost a prayer, which
| hummed from morning to night,
not as a supplication to heaven, but
because 1t seemed to me that when ]
repeated it my family heard me, and
when it echoed in my memory |
could have sworn it was my loved
ones at home who responded to me.
| cannot express how eagerly | de
sired to hear the whole of that waltz.
! could not deceive myself. Ny con
limitations seemed charming to me
when eXtemporized them, but when
! repeated them they spoke to me
only of myself, and nothing of my
loved mes at home, nor of the de
parted days Of childhood.
Years came and went, but those
eight bars did not fade away from
my memory; on the contrary, they
seemed deeper craven on it with
each succeeding year.
One day, feeling that I could stand
it no longer, ! set out for home tC
hunt for the waltz. AS there ap
peared to be no special cause for my
journey, my father and the rest Of
the family covered me with caresses.
They attributed my return to an in
crease of affection for them. They
were mistaken, for | loved them so
dearly that | could not, for the life
of me, have loved them more than |
did.
dared not breathe to them one
word about the waltz, lest | should
destroy their illusions. 1t seemed to
me | should wound their feelings
were l to refer to it. Those who
know what it is to love will under
stand what l mean.
One evening my father, who was
fond of hearing me play, asked for
some music. He was a learned and
severe judge, and l always felt a lit
tie nervous at being asked to play
before him. That evening, however,
| did not wait to be pressed, AMI
without any prelude to make my
fingers agile | played the famous
bars Of the waltz which prosecuted
me.
is it possible?' said my father.
DO you still remember Zimmer's
waltzI'
''Zimmer.." exclaimed. is hat
waltz by thinner? Are you sure of
that? Who was Zimmer?"
thinner was a young composer
who in times past had some vogue"
replied my rather. He began I'M
usually well and was becoming pop
ular when he disappeared, and no
body knows what became Of him"
DO you know the waltz from
beginning to end:"
No. / do not"
How could you, with your pro
digious memory, have forgotten it,"
For the excellent reason that !
never knew it. Your poor, dear
mother sang it to put you to sleep,
and l dare say she never knew more
Of it than those eight bars"
The next day | visited every music
shop in Cologne.
I asked the dealers for Zimmer's
waltz. I did not know it's title, SO ]
said, 1T begins in this way" and |
sang tie first eight bars. They looked
at me smilingly, but everywhere !
met with a negative reply. l re-
turned quite veXed to Paris.
For years after this experience and
during all my travels | never en-
tered a music shop without asking
for Zimmer's waltz. But all my
efforts to unearth it were i'll vain.
At last l gave up all hope of ever
finding the rest of it and cOntented
myself with the eight bars which in
variably haunted my memory.
One morning while l was settling
an account with Brandus, the music
publisher in Paris, he said to me:
II have just heard of a poor fellow
who really has some talent"
Are you going to publish his
music?'
II would like to do so, but ne is
old and has no reputation"
HE will acquire reputation"
''He pretends he had reputation
once"
What is his Nance"
thinner"
thinner? Did you say Zimmer?
Where does he live? Give me his
address! Quick! Quick"
II don't know his address. He is
to come here tomorrow to take back |
his manuscript"