In the previous chapter hints have been given to enable a party of five or more performers to give a Nigger Minstrel Entertainment. The object of the following is to show how one or two people can contrive to amuse their friends with a few negro performances.

The pieces are suitable either as items in a variety entertainment, or as convenient “gags” to be introduced between longer entertainments when the interest of the audience is to be sustained by some timely diversion.

It might be remarked, by the way, that it is surprising how much the effect of a joke depends upon the humor of the audience. If they are feeling in a happy and pleasant frame of mind, the mere sight of a comic man is sufficient to bring forth roars and shrieks of laughter. But if a gloom or lack of interest has settled over the company, even the comic genius of the late Dan Leno would most probably have failed to raise a smile.

There are two things almost invariably associated with nigger songs—a banjo and bones. Proficiency with both these is necessary before attempting to give an entertainment.

Practice and a quick ear are indispensable for playing or even strumming a banjo. A very little practice will enable you to strike chords with ease, whilst a quick ear will show when they should be played.

To make a successful “hit” with the “bones” is a question, more or less, of knack.

A set of four bones costs about $1.00. When buying take care they are sound, i.e. with no crack or flaw, and that they contain no core of pith, as this is liable to dull the sound, rendering it quite impossible to obtain the sharp clean click so necessary for successful rendition.

Having obtained your bones—a pair for each hand—you must know how they should be held. Notice they are slightly curved, as in Fig. 1. With a pair in each hand place the ends between the first and second and second and third fingers, the convex sides towards each other (Fig. 2). Hold No. 1 (the bone between the first and second fingers) fairly firmly, although not so stiffly as to rob it of a distinct spring. No. 2 (the bone between the second and third fingers) must be rapped up against its companion by the action of the third and fourth fingers.

A sharp shake of the hand will make the bones clap together, while if you keep the hand quivering and also work bone No. 2 vigorously a continuous rattle is produced.

A good plan, when once you are accustomed to having the bones between the fingers, is to hold the hand with the knuckles upwards, the bones pointing to the ground, as in Fig. 3. By this means the fingers are allowed freer play. At the same time a better appearance is given to the exhibition.

At first you will find your rattles jerky and spasmodic, but do not be content until you have the bones so entirely under command that you can make a long rattle as easily as a solitary tap, remembering that the less exertion you betray the better will be the effect.

Your own ear will show you how to introduce them into the music. Do not drown the air—the bones are only intended to give a point, to accentuate certain parts and not to render them inaudible. A smart rattle may be given at the commencement of the music and at the conclusion of the song.

Introducing Jokes

All jokes should be introduced by a certain amount of conversational patter between the Interlocutor and “Bones.”

Mr. Johnson, the interlocutor, is always a very simple-minded person, unable to see any joke until it has been fairly thrown at him, and perfectly innocent in the presence of the most obnoxious puns. He has a certain patronizing air with his companion which only serves to make his innate simplicity more delightful. Mr. Johnson maintains an impassive face in the most ludicrous and trying situations by his very matter-of-fact behavior, extracting all kinds of smart things from the funny man.

“Bones” is the very reverse of Mr. Johnson. He is up to all the latest catches, full of quips and puns, is possessed of a never-failing store of quaint experiences and remarkable stories, the most improbable of which are gravely swallowed by Johnson. Yet the big red lips on his broad black face must be immovable and never show the least symptom of a smile as he recounts with stolid solemnity his marvelous doings to his credulous friend.

The following dialogue is arranged for these two characters. Mr. Johnson asks Bones all kinds of simple and apparently harmless questions; but Mr. Bones replies with a constant succession of puns and jokes:—

Johnson. So you’ve been enjoying yourself, William, lately, I understand. Dining out a good deal?

Bones. Oh yes, that’s right. I’d dine with anybody.

Johnson. Yes, but I’m told you dined with the Mayor last week. Is that right?

Bones. Oh yes, that’s right.

Johnson. Then I suppose you had an excellent dinner—plenty to eat and drink. What was the menu?

Bones. Well, to tell you the truth, there was a lot of ’em there, but I don’t recollect him.

Johnson. Ah, you don’t understand me. I mean what was the bill of fare?

Bones. Oh, well, it was a pretty fair bill. I believe it cost him about $300.

Johnson. No, you don’t understand me. I mean what dishes did you have to eat?

Bones. Well, we didn’t eat any dishes.

Johnson. No, no, of course not; but what did you have to eat and drink?

Bones. Well, I believe the first thing we had to eat was something to drink.

Johnson. And what did you have to drink, then?

Bones. Well, it was a new soup.

Johnson. A new soup! Well, I should like to know what that was. What was it called?

Bones. Oh, I don’t remember exactly what it was, but you might mention the names of a few to help me.

Johnson. Well, was it Mullagatawny?

Bones. No, it wasn’t Multigatony.

Johnson. Was it Mock Turtle?

Bones. No, it wasn’t him.

Johnson. Was it gravy?

Bones. No.

Johnson. Was it spring?

Bones. No, it wasn’t spring, it was summer.

Johnson. Well, I must give it up, William. What was it?

Bones. Oh, I know, it was what they call—er—er—shadow soup.

Johnson. Oh, then, it must be a new soup. I’ve never heard of shadow soup.

Bones. Never heard of shadow soup?

Johnson. No, I haven’t. I should like to taste that. How is it made?

Bones. I’ll tell you. You go down to the market, buy a nice chicken, take it home, stretch a line across the yard, hang the chicken in the middle of the line, put a nice clean pail of water under the chicken, and when the sun comes out it casts its beautiful rays on the chicken, reflects the shadow in the pail of water, and that’s what they call shadow soup.

Johnson. Oh, you go down to the market, buy a nice chicken, take it home, stretch a line across the yard, hang the chicken in the middle of the line, put a nice clean pail of water under the chicken, and when the sun comes out it casts its beautiful rays on the chicken and reflects the shadow in the water, and that’s what they call shadow soup.

Bones. Yes.

Johnson. But, my dear sir, you’ve forgotten one of the principal things.

Bones. Oh, have I? What’s that?

Johnson. What’s that? Why, supposing you have no sun?

Bones. Well, then—you have no soup.

Stump Speeches

A little extra effort in the matter of make-up might be attempted for stump speeches, for the orator should be as “seedy” as possible in the way of costume. A tattered coat and battered hat are usually considered essential to the character, whilst an old dilapidated umbrella, of bulky form and shapeless proportions, is useful for brandishing at the emotional parts or thumping as the impressive points in the speech are reached.

The stump orator should deliver his speech mounted upon a rickety chair or table, for his exaggerated endeavors to maintain his balance will be certain to cause fun amongst the audience.

Having taken his position with much danger, and with a familiar look at the spectators, the speaker may embark upon the lecture. He should speak distinctly and slowly, pausing every now and again to illustrate his remarks with some quip or to steady himself upon the very rocky pulpit.

As an example he may take the following, which will serve for the opening sentences of a stump speech on “Sound”:—

Ladies and Gentlemen, and others. I have much, I have much (puts hand in pocket as if to feel how much money he has), I say I have much—much feeling of proudness in assembling here in large numbers before you—me—you here dis even. The subject of my investigation has been for many long years, that is to say early years, short years, new years, old years, pig’s and donkey’s ears, and the rest of the human race. I say the subject of my intellectual and not at all less pig’s-head-a-frying lecture on the various means of communicating our thoughts, words, title-deeds, and other chattels, such as sauce-pans, frying-pans, umbrellas, knobbed sticks, brick-bats and bricks without bats, I say the subject of this important question, whether it be the pop-shopular question or whether it be unwise to mention, or otherwise in dimension, let it be understood that previous to preparing myself to begin—to commence, I must ask a few questions about the temperaments, detriments out-o-debtriments, cape-abilities, cloak-abilities, hats, caps, boots, shoes, underlinen, socks, and other kind of earthenware. I say before I, as I said before I said “I say before”—this subject can be clothes-properly dissolved, we will, although I say it myself, ladies and gentlemen, I say we shall, ladies, we shall all be dead men. (Takes pinch of snuff, wipes nose with wet part of handkerchief, wiping off some black. Resumes dialogue.)

Music for Minstrelsy

Taking it for granted that the would-be minstrels have reasonably good voices, the only difficulty will be “selection.” Of course a great deal of tact is required to know what class of music is best suited to the audience.

Have as much variety as possible. Do not confine yourself exclusively to comic songs or to sentimental ditties alone. At all costs keep your audience cheerful and amused. Too much humor is apt to nauseate, but too much melancholy will certainly spell failure. Try to gauge the temper of your company, and if they seem to prefer the serious to the comic parts on your programme, or vice versÂ, make as quick and effective an alteration as you can. They must be made to appreciate you—not simply to tolerate you.

To have a piano accompaniment is a distinct acquisition if the voices be of doubtful merit. For accomplished singers a banjo is quite sufficient, but the amateur will certainly find that a friend at the piano is very handy and reliable. This is, of course, entirely a matter of individual taste and circumstances.

A very good selection of nigger dialogues, speeches, &c., can be obtained from any theatrical publisher. The entertainer will be furnished with useful ideas for a programme, including some of the most successful minstrels’ songs and drolleries.

As the Stump Orator would say, “We must now draw a delusion to our not over long lecture,” feeling confident that the amateur nigger will find his entertainment as great a source of pleasure to himself as of amusement to the audience.