We shall now give in outline a few sketches for the student to fill in with dialogue of his own. The “situations” will readily suggest some simple conversations well suited for effective treatment.
For the man in the chimney, assume a voice of low pitch, strongly resonant throughout. Express your belief that somebody is up the chimney, and stoop near the fireplace to question the intruder in a soft and rather high-pitched voice. Then draw down the corner of the mouth turned from the audience, and deliver your answers with force, so that the sound may be deflected from the stone-work supporting the mantel-piece. Your man in the chimney is a rough, cantankerous fellow, who accounts for his presence in the most absurd way, and answers with great warmth, especially when there is a fire in the grate. As soon as he begins to ascend the chimney, step back a pace, keeping your face in the same direction. To wind up, either leave him stuck in the chimney, or dismiss him by way of the roof.
In speaking to the man on the roof, begin by taking a deliberate look at the ceiling, and then shout “Hallo-o!” The answer, given in the distant voice, should sound almost like an echo. Before answering, turn your face to the audience, and, with the head in an easy, listening attitude, produce the reply softly on a note of middle pitch. The man on the roof rarely speaks more than a few sentences. The audience seem to understand how trying it is for him to converse at such a distance, so he is humanely dismissed very soon, and may then be heard faintly answering as he wanders on from roof to roof, or reaches the ground by a ladder.
The man in the hall is a capital voice to practise. With your hand on the handle of the door, parley with the rough fellow who is trying to push it open from the other side. At this stage use the resonant voice, and explode your answers against the panel of the door. As the man is noisy, you may produce a striking effect by alternately opening and shutting the door rapidly, accompanying the action with a sudden swelling and sinking of the voice, remembering at the same time to maintain the original pitch. Much amusement will arise if your visitor happens to be a sweep who has come to the wrong house, but insists on cleaning the drawing-room chimney. You may even put your head outside the door for a moment to remonstrate with him, and then step back suddenly with the mark of a grimy hand upon your face—self-inflicted, of course, with a burnt cork. As the voice moves away, its resonant quality should be moderated, and, in case the man talks himself out into the street, it should merge into the distant voice. Sometimes, however, affairs take a novel turn, and the sweep, in seeking an exit, wanders into the cellar, where he may be heard making unkind remarks in accents faint and sooty.
The voice of the man in the cellar is a modified form of the resonant voice, delivered with less force and less of the nasal quality. A fine effect may be introduced by making your man slowly ascend and descend the cellar steps, talking or singing all the time. Moreover, this effect may be greatly heightened by using a trap-door made in the following manner. Cover a sheet of stout cardboard (about 2½ ft. square) with grained wall-paper to imitate woodwork, and let it dry thoroughly under pressure, as warping would render it useless. On it paint two large hinges with black enamel, and near the front edge fix a large black ring by means of a loop of leather or black tape. The ring may be either a wooden curtain-ring or a coil of cane bound with “wax-end.” To the under-side of the board glue two leather tabs, in line with the hinges, but projecting, so that the trap may thereby be fastened to the floor with drawing-pins. Before the audience arrive, fix the trap-door in position, well to the right or left of the platform or other space, and take care to indicate the thickness of the woodwork on the edge which is to face the performer. Under the trap a corresponding square of black tissue paper should be pinned to the floor, so that, when the trap is raised, a dark hole may appear beneath. During the performance, the trap must be lifted with considerable toil, else its flimsy nature will be discovered, and perhaps cause an untimely titter. If managed properly, however, it is most realistic, and may be employed in a startling way to convey the idea of a man raising it from below. This is done by fixing to the upper edge of the board a piece of strong black thread (invisible to the audience) at a few yards distance and attaching the other end to a strong finger-ring to be worn by the performer. The ring, if placed on a table or chair near the trap-door, may be slipped on the finger at the right moment, and will thus enable the performer, whenever he raises his arm with a gesture of alarm or of command, to raise the trap-door at the same time.
Doll-talking is a branch of our subject which finds great favour with boys, for it is often as funny as droll figures and smart witty dialogue can make it. The nature of the dialogue, indeed, is of much more importance here than in pure ventriloquism. The voices are easy to acquire, but not so easy to describe. Draw back the lower jaw pretty well; press the tip of the tongue against the lower teeth; raise the rest of the tongue until it nearly touches (and it will touch every now and then) the roof of the mouth, and then project the sound forcibly against the hard palate, just above the front teeth. The falsetto voice treated in this way, sometimes becomes almost perfect, enabling the ventriloquist to sound nearly every letter; whilst appearing to be absolutely mute.
Fix upon two well-contrasted characters: one speaking in a shrill falsetto, the other in a hard, metallic voice of middle pitch. Figures for this purpose can be purchased at some of the London toy bazaars and conjurers’ shops. A pair of large dolls, with practical mouths and eyes, would cost about two pounds, but heads may be purchased separately and fixed to home-made bodies. These heads, which represent a funny man, an old woman, a little girl and a negro, range in price from five shillings and sixpence to eighteen and sixpence, the latter kind being life-size. The pairs of dolls mostly used are styled “Tommy and Joey,” “Tommy and Granny,” etc. The performer places a doll on each knee and holds a lively conversation with them, often interrupted, however, by the crying, giggling, and singing of the dolls, whose unseasonable jokes and general naughtiness call down upon their wooden heads many a resounding blow.
