25 DECEMBER 1909, Page 9

MORE ANONYMOUS VOICES.

WE boast, and rightly, that to-day is the day of the common man ; but in a very true sense he has always been having his day. In poetry, history, biography, and even in Holy Writ, we continually find the page gathering moment and drawing its light and meaning from the stated words of quite unknown speakers. What should we have learned of the meekness of Moses but for the angry demand of the people he had laboured to deliver: " Because there were no graves in Egypt, bast thou taken us away to die in the wilderness ?" When Elijah confronts an idolatrous Royalty and priesthood, it is the unbidden cry of the vast common assembly, "The Lord, he is the God," that brings the real climax. The compassionate hint of a little captive maid brought the Syrian captain, Naaman, within the reach and Tower of a cure for his leprosy. And the lying story of an

obscure Amalekite was the strange prelude to that wonderful lament of David's over the deaths of Saul and Jonathan which has since enriched nearly all the languages of the earth. From the New Testament what a human element would vanish had we not the words of certain unnamed persons whom we yet well know and love as the " Syro-Phoenician woman," "the man who was born blind," "the centurion," "the woman having an issue of blood," " the Philippian jailer." Even for the arrest, trial, and crucifixion of Christ no known individual could be held singly responsible. The multitude in mass empowered the prime movers by crying : " His blood be on us and on our children " ; " Not this man, but Barabbas."

Naturally, the anonymous utterances that have come down to us have been memorable either in themselves or from their connexion. Often the touch of nature conveyed has been the preservative, as with the complaint of the Athenian citizen that he was tired of hearing Aristides styled " the Just." The appeal from "Philip drunk to Philip sober" deserved the lasting remembrance given to it, for it pointed out a possible referendum that has freed many a man since then from an unbearable deadlock.

An anonymous voice will at times give a national trait in a sentence. Who but a Spartan mother would have said to her boy, on giving him his shield for the battle : " Return with it, my son, or upon it " ? Or who but a Roman father would have met his lad's complaint of the shortness of his sword by the advice to " add a step to it" ? When the Judges whom Cromwell sent to Scotland were thanked (with a malison) as "a wheen kinless loons," a fair point of difference between the two nations was struck out; the Scot always making more of his kith and kin than the Englishman,—a fine trait if kept clear of injustice and corruption. At another time a grade or phase of social life will be hit off. The intractableness of the sons of Kings was announced once for all by the old lady of Inverness who had been during " the Forty-five " the un- willing hostess first of Prince Charlie and then of the Duke of Cumberland : "I have had twa Kings' bairns living wi' me in my time, and, to tell you the truth, I wish I may never hae anther." The voice of " old nobility " is heard in the assured conclusion of the French Court-lady of pre-Revolution days, " God will think twice before damning a woman of my quality"; just as the splendid freemasonry of the poor speaks in the reply of the Prussian soldier upbraided for helping to get in the crops of a French peasant upon whom he was quartered, " War is all very well for the swells, but we poor folk must help one another " ; or as long dwelling in "lone poverty's dominion drear " stands confessed in the astonished utterance of the poor woman who, on her first view of the sea, was "glad to find something at last that there was plenty of." The best side of Quakerism is shown by the shrewd Quakeress who, after hearing Southey relate how he studied Portuguese grammar while shaving, read Spanish for an hour before breakfast, then wrote or studied till dinner, and filled all his day with doing this, that, and the other, quietly asked : " And, friend, when dost thee find time to think ? " whilst its faulty side is declared in the saying of the lady who, hearing Jerusalem spoken of, exclaimed : " Jerusalem! Jerusalem! It has not yet been revealed to me that there is such a place."

There are no better indices to character or personality than the recorded words of some anonymous speakers. Equal to Rosalind or Juliet in romantic love was the German girl who, centuries ago, sought her beloved by crying "Gilbert! Gilbert !" through the streets of London. We see in a flash both mother and son.in the remark of the Scotswoman whose soldier-laddie had been taken prisoner and chained to a comrade: "I pity the lad that's shackled to oor Jock." Words- worth's servant, when asked to show_ a visitor the poet's study, gave her master in a word by saying she could show where he kept his books, but his study was out of doors. " Change Kings with us, and we will fight you again ! " shouted an Irish officer to his English antagonists at the battle of the Boyne, and in so saying not only uttered the heart's wish of a soldier for a brave and skilful commander, but also stated in briefest form the difference between the martial qualities of James II. and William of Orange.

Kings in disguise have often heard from unknown speakers a bit of truth such as Royalty is not supposed to hear every day. In this way King Alfred got his well-remembered lesson in housewifery, bluff King Hal one in contentment

from the miller of the Dee ; and Charles II. in bandying words with a shoeing-smith during the escape after Worcester fight heard to his face the honest wish expressed for the capture of " that rogue Charles Stuart." Rulers at all times, going abroad among their subjects, have found a fairly trusty barometer in the salutations of the common people; whilst of the natural kings and leaders of men, the cries of the multitude have been their loudest and heartiest heralding. The acclamations of the New Model army when Cromwell rode into its midst on the eve of Naseby made him "but smile out to God in praises in assurance of victory,"—a thing he could not do when riding alone about his business. Napoleon, in a different way, laid the foundation of his power in the intense devotion of his individual soldiers to himself. "The little corporal," " Old Hundred Thousand," and finally the tremendous " Vive rEmpereur ! " that carried the shock of battle all over Europe, tell of the marvellous inspiration and fascination of his person and name. Wounded men when in the hands of the doctor told him to cut a little deeper and he would find the Emperor; and even French soldiers imprisoned in England—if we are to believe " Lavengro "—sounded from behind their iron bars the terrors of his name in the ears of passers-by. Such personal tribute has not seldom been almost the only (and yet the satisfying) reward of neglected genius, as when Sir Charles Napier, snubbed by the Indian autho- rities after adding, by hard fighting, a province to their dominions, wrote in his journal :—" Honours ! I have had honour sufficient in both battles. At Meanee, when we forced the Fullalee, the Twenty-second, seeing me at their head, gave me three cheers louder than all the firing. And at Dubba, when I returned nearly alone from the pursuit with the cavalry, the whole line gave me three cheers. One wants nothing more than the praise of men who know how to judge movements." And, to conclude our instances of hero-worship by a reference not less brave, though not from the field of arms, let us recall the shopkeeper quoted in the Life of Robertson of Brighton as confessing that when tempted to do an unfair thing in trade he went into his parlour behind the shop to look at Robertson's portrait on the wall, and at once felt strong to overcome.

Hero-worship soon passes into helpfulness, given the oppor- tunity; and many .a time has the small and unknown man or woman helped by a timely word the great and renowned. On one of John Wesley's visits to Bath the preaching was inter- rupted by that potentate of fashion, Beau Nash, demanding why the people came together. Wesley's usual skill in alterca- tion did not forsake him, yet still the unabashed Nash pressed his demand. On which one replied : " Sir, leave him to me ; let an old woman answer him. You, Mr. Nash, take care of your body ; we take care of our souls, and for the good of our souls we come here." He replied not a word, but walked away. Dr. Dale of Birmingham was one day walking the streets of that city in a despondent mood when a poor, decently dressed woman, laden with parcels, stopped him and said: " God bless you, Dr. Dale ! " Her face was strange to biro, and he said : " Thank you ; but what is your name P " " Never mind my name," she answered, " but if you could only know how you have made me feel, hundreds of times, and what a happy home you have given me! God bless you!" "The mist broke," says Dr. Dale, "the sunlight came, I breathed the free air of the mountains of God." And to have roused the stricken General Wolfe from his stupor on the heights of Quebec (as one did) by crying out "They run!" and so to have lit up his last conscious moments with the glory of duty done, or to have cheered with the news of victory Moore's anxious yet undaunted spirit as he drew near to death, was at least for the unknown speaker to have laid up a proud and happy memory ; but it also showed that the mouse can Still help the lion, and that no man, not even the greatest, liveth to himself.

Some anonymous voices live by their humour. Who can think of Hugh Miller's " My Schools and Schoolmasters " without hearing, above the din of trowel and hammer, a workman at the top of a building calling to a labourer at the bottom who thinks he has a claim to a title and an estate : "John, Yeti Crawford, bring us anither hod o' lime "P A dalesman, at the time of Wordsworth's death, linked even that event to comedy by innocently supposing that the poet's wife would carry on the business. And it is doubtful whether'

the Banyan celebration recently held in London struck a brighter spark than did a Sheffield grinder at a football match some time ago. The visiting team were called the Pilgrims, but they did not show very well. Their play was slow- and dubious, and that a grinder—quick himself in thought and action—cannot bear. Suddenly the gathered thousands were roused to Homeric laughter by the ringing call of a swarf- stained son of "the wheel ": "Rah then, yoh Pilgrims ! mak' a bit o' progress, will yer ? "

Even when the anonymous speaker himself fails to shine, he often fetches fire from others. The lady who complained to Turner that she had never seen such sunsets as he painted got the memorable reply : " No, Madam, but don't you wish you could P " Some one, sneering in the presence of Emerson at the opening sentences of the Declaration of Independence as " glittering generalities," drew from the poet-essayist the indignant protest : " Glittering generalities ! they are blazing ubiquities !" We owe a debt to that exquisite nobody of Salisbury who, in the days of the first Charles, chid and disparaged "holy George Herbert" for helping a poor teamster on the road, to the disfigurement of his own dress and appearance, when coming to the musical party in the Cathedral city, for then it was that George Herbert stood up and declared that the thought of what he had done " would prove music to him at midnights" " For," said he, " though I do not wish for the like occasion every day, yet let me tell you I' would not willingly pass one day of my life without comfort- ing a sad soul or showing mercy, and I praise God for this occasion. And now let us tune our instruments."

How often, too, have panic and disaster, not only among indiscriminate crowds, but even among veterans in arms, been the result of some sudden cry of fear coming from none knows whom ; and how even more marvellous at times have been the rally and victorious return when the right -word has been spoken.

The natural conclusion of the matter would seem to be a steadying and ennobling one,—that great and incalculable possibilities attend the uttered word of even the meanest of us.