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Herr Smash
The following spoof appeared in
The Knickerbocker 34 (September 1849): 244-46, as part
of a series from the fictitious Bunkum Flag-Staff and Independent
Echo. Inspired mostly by De Meyer, the satire also makes a few
references to Herz. Another possible model is Maurice Strakosch,
the most recently arrived foreign pianist, who appeared in New York
in late 1848.
Herr Smash, the great Pianist made
his first deboo before a Bunkum audience last night. That
there was any such being in existence in any quarter of the globe
was onbeknown to us until about a year ago, when a puff from the
Manchester Courier was sent out for publication all through the
United'n States'n, declaring his great triumph in the town-hall
of said place. This kind of sharpened curiosity, and we first heard
the question asked, "Who was Herr Smash?" Also with reference
to his laurels. (And speaking of laurels, we have a few cedar posts
to be disposed of cheap.) Then came a small pamphlet, left at the
doors of Bunkum, headed in German characters, Herr Smash, and that
he was now on his way, which investigated inquiry to the highest
pitch, but no Herr Smash yet. Soon after his plenipotentiary agent
appeared, for the purpose of hirink a room, and be speaking him
a sufficient benefit from our fellow citizens cordially responded
to; after which, with a good head of steam, the Caledonia steamer
brought up the monster to the wharf at Boston last week, soon after
which, the bills were printed at this office, and he last night
appeared at his deboo, which was enthusiastic to a degree.
The instrument was an extremely massive one, of the kind called
grand, which when the curtain drawed up, we perceived was secured
to the floor by tranverse timber from the lumber yard of Boardman
and Brothers, also by a side-long piece of iron, hammered down with
tenpenny nails (patent heads) and screws. Herr Smash soon entered
with a bust of unanimous applause. His appearance was exentrik.
A bushy head like a bushel, and a smear of mustashes onto his upper
lip, otherwise a frock-coat and sundries. He also carried a cambrick
handkerchif perfumed with musk. We smelt it. He took his position,
planting himself firm, while two upholsterers tacked his coat tails
with little brass studs, also secured his body with ropes. His audience
were by this time at the highest point of the key-veeve,
and time they was. He took off his gloves, hurled his eyes all round
the theayter, looking grim, held his wrists about three feet above
the key board, letting the ends of his fingers hang down, his hair
stood right up, and we knew that eminent jepardy was a-coming. So
held them for three minutes while all the whole audience was nigh
out of breath, and while they was so, down he came with his ten
finger-nails! After this, he looked round with a smile, and the
enthusiasm of the audience, unable to hold out any longer, broke
through all bounds. Before this was over he lifted up his fingers
and down he came again, insomuch that the brass plate of the piano
was wrenched off, and one leg thrown pretty much across the room.
Unmindful of this, he now began galloping with his fingers from
end to end of the instrument, turning head over heels between a
quaver and a semi-quaver, and all right again and on, before any
body would know that there was any time lost. He first played Yankee
Doodle, out of compliment, smothering it up with the blanket of
ornament, and tucking it in, that when the poor Yankee did peep
out with its face we hardly knowed it. Says we to ourself, "Can
this be Yankee Doodle come to town, Yankee Doodle dandy?" After
this however, unloosing his musical bark from the wharf of patriotism,
he began to play the Battle of Prague, the Battle of the Nile, Battle
of the Pyramids, Battle of Wagram, Battle of Austerlitz and Battle
of Bunker Hill, all concentered into one grand junction cannonade,
which after the third volley ripped off his coat tails, tore up
the brass nails, and threw the lid of the piano clean across the
room, while the sensation of the audience was unmitigated in the
extreme. Ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and children at the breast
bawled aloud, while some friends of ours were so foolish as to boohoo
out of mere enthusiasm. We can only state the effect it produced,
as our musical critic has drawed up a scientific account. We, the
editor of the Flag-Staff, stood our ground, screwed up our eye-glass;
blowed our nose with our pocket handkercher; run our fingers through
our hair; sucked our cain; cast our eyes round unmolested; smoothed
down our hat; buttoned our risbands; hitched up our pantaloons;
applauded very slightly with our thumb-nails; thought over our next
leader in our next Flag-Staff, when just as we were doin' this the
Herr come to the finale, when just as you think it all done, horns,
fiddles, cymbals, gong, and kettle drum with a bang; bang; bang;
bang; tiddle de diddle de idle; bang, bang, bang, tiddle de dum
de idle; BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG; then a slow measured bang;
BANG; BANG; then at it again with a fiddle de iddle de iddle de
crash! crash! smash! and with that legs, keys, iron, wire, sank
down on the floor in one mass of hetereogenus chaos, and Herr Smash,
his hair on eend; his coat tails ripped off; his eyes flashing fire;
his mustashes looking thunder; his fists clenched; his mëouth
foaming, ran right off the stage.
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