A Flood of Utterance, or, check your sources

 by Anne White

Recently I have been reading some Thomas Carlyle, and, as I knew there were Carlyle references in Charlotte Mason's Series, I decided to check through them on the AmblesideOnline website.

Now, we know already that Charlotte, brilliant as she was, was not always careful to quote things word for word, and hardly ever cited her sources. But it does appear that, regarding Carlyle, she may have created an unfortunate tradition of “Carlyle said this,” at least twice, that doesn’t show up anywhere outside of C.M. circles. Which is usually a clue there’s something odd going on.

Here’s the first one, and it’s a big one: “Masterly inactivity.”

'Masterly Inactivity.'––A blessed thing in our mental constitution is, that once we receive an idea, it will work itself out, in thought and act, without much after-effort on our part; and, if we admit the idea of 'masterly inactivity' as a factor in education, we shall find ourselves framing our dealings with children from this standpoint, without much conscious effort. But we must get clearly into our heads what we mean by masterly inactivity. Carlyle's happy phrase has nothing in common with the laisser allez attitude that comes of thinking 'what's the good?' and still further is it removed from the sheer indolence of mind that lets things go their way rather than take the trouble to lead them to any issue. (V.3, p. 28)

The website Bartleby.com quotes a 1989 book (titled Respectfully Quoted) in attributing this to Sir James Mackintosh in his Vindiciae Gallicae And Other Writings on the French Revolution, which you can read online. Here's the passage in question:

Guided by these views, and animated by public support, the Commons adhered inflexibly to their principle of incorporating the three Orders. They adopted a provisory organization, but studiously declined whatever might seem to suppose legal existence, or to arrogate constitutional powers. The Nobles, less politic or timid, declared themselves a legally constituted Order, and proceeded to discuss the great objects of their convocation. The Clergy affected to preserve a mediatorial character, and to conciliate the discordant claims of the two hostile Orders. The Commons, faithful to their system, remained in a wise and masterly inactivity, which tacitly reproached the arrogant assumption of the Nobles, while it left no pretext to calumniate their own conduct; gave time for the encrease of popular fervor, and distressed the Court by the delay of financial aid. Several conciliatory plans were proposed by the Minister, and rejected by the haughtiness of the Nobility and the policy of the Commons. 

 According to Bartleby.com and Respectfully Quoted, this was also a phrase used in American politics, and particularly associated with John C. Calhoun. Now, Carlyle also wrote a book about the French Revolution, and it could easily have included that phrase, but it doesn’t; he may have quoted it somewhere else, but it seems that Charlotte may also have misremembered who said what and where. Until someone else proves this wrong, let’s give Sir James Mackintosh proper credit  for that "happy phrase."

Here’s the second instance of C.M. Carlyle-isms. In Philosophy of Education, Charlotte writes: 

Now, good citizens must have sound opinions about law, duty, work, wages, what not; so we pour opinions into the young people from the lips of lecturer or teacher, his opinions, which they are intended to take as theirs. In the next place there is so much to be learned that a selection must needs be made; the teacher makes this selection and the young people are "poured into like a bucket," which, says Carlyle, "is not exhilarating to any soul." Some ground is covered; teachers and Education Authorities are satisfied; and if, when the time comes, the young people leave school discontented and uneasy, if their work bore them and their leisure bore them, if their pleasures are mean and meagre, and if they become men and women rather eager than other wise for the excitement of a strike, that is because the Continuation, as the Elementary, School will have failed to find them. (V.6, p. 288)

Now, Charlotte Mason's people have used that quote forever. I’ve seen it used within Charlotte’s words, as a standalone, and even, in a book which must go unnamed, with Charlotte’s words around it but the whole thing attributed to Carlyle.

However, Charlotte, as usual, was paraphrasing. The line comes from Carlyle’s chapter “Coleridge,” part of his Life of John Sterling.  Sterling, a young Scottish author,  spent some time with the much-older Coleridge, around 1830. Here is what Carlyle wrote (the bold words are mine):

Nothing could be more copious than his talk; and furthermore it was always, virtually or literally, of the nature of a monologue; suffering no interruption, however reverent; hastily putting aside all foreign additions, annotations, or most ingenuous desires for elucidation, as well-meant superfluities which would never do. Besides, it was talk not flowing any-whither like a river, but spreading every-whither in inextricable currents and regurgitations like a lake or sea; terribly deficient in definite goal or aim, nay often in logical intelligibility; what you were to believe or do, on any earthly or heavenly thing, obstinately refusing to appear from it. So that, most times, you felt logically lost; swamped near to drowning in this tide of ingenious vocables, spreading out boundless as if to submerge the world.

To sit as a passive bucket and be pumped into, whether you consent or not, can in the long-run be exhilarating to no creature; how eloquent soever the flood of utterance that is descending. But if it be withal a confused unintelligible flood of utterance, threatening to submerge all known landmarks of thought, and drown the world and you!...His talk, alas, was distinguished, like himself, by irresolution: it disliked to be troubled with conditions, abstinences, definite fulfilments;—loved to wander at its own sweet will, and make its auditor and his claims and humble wishes a mere passive bucket for itself! He had knowledge about many things and topics, much curious reading; but generally all topics led him, after a pass or two, into the high seas of theosophic philosophy…he had not the least talent for explaining this or anything unknown to them; and you swam and fluttered in the mistiest wide unintelligible deluge of things, for most part in a rather profitless uncomfortable manner. 

So, the Carlyle quote that we want is this:

To sit as a passive bucket and be pumped into, whether you consent or not, can in the long-run be exhilarating to no creature…

And I’ve certainly pumped enough for one post. But I hope you found it, if not exhilarating, at least enlightening.

Boxing Lessons

by Anne White

D. E. Stevenson’s Five Windows is a coming-of-age novel set in a Scottish village. The early chapters tell about a nine-year-old boy, David, and his friendship with Malcolm, a local shepherd. Malcolm is also a woodworker, and one day David goes to his shop and shows him a picture frame he has made at school, as a gift for his mother. “I was rather proud of it,” the older David remembers. Malcolm’s reaction is not what he was expecting. “Did they learn you to make that at school? It’s dreadful! And the wood is good, too. A good piece of wood doesn’t need to be cut about and ornamented with whirly-gigs and scrolls. A piece of wood has its own beauty which just needs to be brought out.” Malcolm realizes quickly that he has hurt David’s feelings, and apologizes for his abruptness; but David notices himself that, even against the plain polished wood of the worktable, his project looks “tawdry.”  And then the amazingly wise Malcolm says, “Well, lad, I tell you what we’ll do. We’ll choose a piece of wood and you’ll make a box for your mother. You’ll do it all yourself—every bit of it—and I’ll show you how.” And he does. It takes them from the Christmas holidays until sometime in March, but finally the box is finished.

It was a solid chest, made of beautifully grained wood, about three feet long and two and a half feet broad, perfectly plain, with no nonsense about it. The lid fitted as snugly as the lid of an air-tight container. It stood upon the bench shining like a chestnut and I it was beautiful. Malcolm ran his hand over it, and said, “You’ve made something worth-while, Davie. That box will still be a good, useful box long after you’ve gone…When you’re dead and gone—and perhaps forgotten—that box will be as good as ever. The work of your hands, Davie!” It was a new idea to me—rather a frightening idea, but interesting too. Somebody would own that box, he would open it and shut it and use it to keep things in…

Worrying a little that his makership might be forgotten, David carves his initials and the date on the bottom of the box.

A year later, Malcolm is killed, fighting in France. In his grief, David begins to write Malcolm’s story, telling what they had done together (including fishing and taking care of the sheep), and what Malcolm had taught him. “Then there would be no danger of forgetting him.” He shows the story to his mother, who loves it, and not just because her boy has written it (as she might have felt about the picture frame), but because it truly is a good story. (Those  who have read Jan Karon’s To Be Where You Are might see a resemblance to the story young Grace writes about her “adopted grandma” Louella.) David’s mother stores up everything that he writes in the wooden box, and, much later in the book, the adult David, now a novelist, comes back and re-examines his early work. Some of it he thinks not bad, some he discards. But the box itself matters just as much as the stories. “It was the same sort of thing,” the adult David writes; “Malcolm had had a hand in making me.”

This story is only a small part of Five Windows, but it can be unpacked in several important ways. First, for those who are concerned with Charlotte Mason’s philosophy of education, Malcolm’s gentle lesson in contrasts can be taken as both a general principle and a practical example. Even quality materials, as Malcolm points out, can lose their beauty if we insist on decorating them with “whirly-gigs and scrolls,” or if we praise that which is quickly completed but which holds no lasting value. We are content to have a slow but solid method of teaching.  David’s box took him weeks to make, and Malcolm told him that it would last for a hundred years. What are we giving our children that will be that solid, last that long? When someday they look back on their education, will they remember only the small projects, or will they have any recognition of the box itself?

Second, there is a spiritual sense in which we may spend years making things we consider beautiful and valuable, even quite big and important things in the world’s eyes, things of which we are “rather proud”; but when we lay them on God’s worktable, they are shown in their true light. As Robert Boyd Munger writes in his classic My Heart—Christ’s Home, God has come into our workroom and is not impressed by the few “little toys” we have managed to knock out. He does not scold or reject us for our lack of skill or taste, but He does ask us to let Him teach us his better way of box-making. And box-filling.

Third, we have the opportunity to make beautiful, lasting boxes. But even a clumsy handmade picture frame is, these days, still a step beyond something stamped out of a machine. Though we may have begun polishing our own boxes (in whatever sense), we are reminded to be gentle with those who need encouragement to enter the workshop and view the work of the master. We have all been there once.

And finally, we are reminded of the need to value the past, including its artists and craftspeople, those who had skills and knew things we have forgotten. We also need to appreciate the work of those  who are still with us. A thing that has been carved, or embroidered, or painted, or built with stones, or hammered out of iron, or baked, still carries something of its maker (as well as its Maker).  Our care, our ideas; our initials, our fingerprints.

Ma made the cornmeal and water into two thin loaves, each shaped in a half circle. She laid the loaves with their straight sides together in the bake-oven, and she pressed her hand flat on top of each loaf. Pa always said he did not ask any other sweetening, when Ma put the prints of her hands on the loaves. (Laura Ingalls Wilder, Little House on the Prairie)

Folk Song for May 2025: Leave Her, Johnny

This month’s folk song, “Leave Her, Johnny” (or “Leave Her, Johnny, Leave Her”) was suggested by Advisory member  Leslie Laurio, who always loves a good sea shanty. Leslie also found this helpful article explaining its meaning and history. 

"The popular sea shanty, 'Leave Her, Johnny' was usually kept for the last day of a voyage as a way of communicating any grievances, knowing they would be soon leaving the ship (her)." 

The song has been recorded over the years by various folk groups, but became more popular recently with the resurgence of interest in sea shanties.

Lyrics and Links

There are many variations and possible verses for this song (not all of them family-friendly). We recommend the lyrics (below) from this version by veteran folk musician Stan Rogers.  An alternative would be to learn the with-lyrics version by Assassin’s Creed 4.

I thought I heard the old man say

"Leave her, Johnny, leave her

It's a long, hard pull to the next payday

And it's time for us to leave her"

Leave her, Johnny, leave her!

Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her

For the voyage is done and the winds don't blow

And it's time for us to leave her!

Oh, the winds were foul and the work was hard

Leave her, Johnny, leave her!

From the Liverpool dock to the London yard

And it's time for us to leave her

Leave her, Johnny, leave her!

Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her

For the voyage is done and the winds don't blow

And it's time for us to leave her!

Oh, the skipper was bad, but the mate was worse

Leave her, Johnny, leave her

He'd blow you down with a spike and a curse

And it's time for us to leave her

Leave her, Johnny, leave her!

Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her

For the voyage is done and the winds don't blow

And it's time for us to leave her!

It was rotten meat and moldy bread

Leave her, Johnny, leave her!

You'd eat it or you'd starve to death

And it's time for us to leave her

Leave her, Johnny, leave her!

Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her

For the voyage is done and the winds don't blow

And it's time for us to leave her!

Well it's time for us to say goodbye

Leave her, Johnny, leave her

For now those pumps are all pumped dry

And it's time for us to leave her

Leave her, Johnny, leave her!

Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her

For the voyage is done and the winds don't blow

And it's time for us to leave her!

Video Links

Stan Rogers and friends, live performance from 1983

Assassin's Creed 4 (with lyrics)

The Longest Johns Mass Choir Community Project  From the notes on Youtube: “It's so amazing to watch this video and see the faces of people still keeping Folk Music and Sea Shanties alive all around the globe! A huge thank you to everyone who took part, and remember to keep singing!”

Our helpful intro post is sure to liven up your folk song adventures.

For more information on our folk songs, and for Amazon affiliate 

links to purchase individual songs, see our AO Folk Songs page.

These affiliate links help support AmblesideOnline.

Folk Song for June 2025: Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen

"Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen" is an African-American spiritual song that dates back to the  early nineteenth century.  The American contralto Marian Anderson recorded it in 1925, and many other singers have recorded it (in their own styles) over the years.(It was sometimes titled “Nobody Knows the Trouble I See.”)

Wikipedia notes that “Nobody Knows” became not only a song sung by groups of people gathering together, but also something that moved easily into more formal arrangements and performances. “In the late 19th century African-American music began to appear in classical music art forms, in arrangements made by Black composers such as Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, Henry Thacker Burleigh, and J. Rosamond Johnson. Johnson made an arrangement…for voice and piano in 1917, when he was directing the New York Music School Settlement for Colored People.”

We should also note, however, that in popular culture, the song is used (often in a humorous way) as a prisoner's lament, or by someone who believes they are being mistreated. (One fun example from Walt Disney's The Lion King)

Lyrics 

This is one set of traditional lyrics.

Nobody knows the trouble I've been through
Nobody knows my sorrow [or “Nobody knows but Jesus”]
Nobody knows the trouble I've seen
Glory hallelujah!

Sometimes I'm up, sometimes I'm down
Oh, yes, Lord
Sometimes I'm almost to the ground
Oh, yes, Lord

Although you see me going 'long so
Oh, yes, Lord
I have my trials here below
Oh, yes, Lord

Nobody knows the trouble I've been through
Nobody knows but Jesus
Nobody knows the trouble I've seen
Glory hallelujah!

If you get there before I do
Oh, yes, Lord
Tell all-a my friends I'm coming to Heaven! [or “coming too”]
Oh, yes, Lord

 Video Links

We particularly recommend the following videos:

Alfred Street Baptist Church (ASBC) Male Chorus

Louis Armstrong (live performance with trumpet and voice, 1962)

The Seekers (live performance, 1965/66) 

And one more, because this is music for everyone: National Taiwan University Chorus

Our helpful intro post is sure to liven up your folk song adventures.

For more information on our folk songs, and for Amazon affiliate 

links to purchase individual songs, see our AO Folk Songs page.

These affiliate links help support AmblesideOnline. 

Folk Song for April 2025: When You And I Were Young, Maggie

“When You And I Were Young, Maggie” (sometimes called simply “Maggie”) sounds like it might be an old Irish or Scottish ballad, but it was actually written by a Canadian schoolteacher and poet, George Washington Johnson, for his sweetheart Margaret “Maggie” Clark, in 1864. They married that year, and the poem was published in Johnson’s book Maple Leaves. Sadly, however, Maggie died less than a year later. (A 2017 article in the Toronto Sun tells more of George and Maggie's story.)

An American composer named James Austin Butterfield set the poem to music, and it quickly became popular worldwide.  It was recorded as early as 1905, and has been sung  (or played) and recorded by artists as diverse as Slim Whitman, Gene Autry (check out this fun clip from the Gene Autry T.V. show), Perry Como, and Benny Goodman. There are also variations on the song: “When You And I Were Young, Maggie Blues” and “When You And I Were Young, Maggie Boogie.” 

Lyrics

1. I wandered today to the hill, Maggie,

To watch the scene below;

The creek and the creaking old mill, Maggie,

As we used to long ago,

The green grove is gone from the hill, Maggie,

Where first the daisies sprung;

The creaking old mill is still, Maggie,

Since you and I were young.

 

CHORUS

And now we are aged and gray, Maggie,

And the trials of life nearly done;

Let us sing of the days that are gone, Maggie,

When you and I were young.

Let us sing,

 

2. A city so silent and lone, Maggie,

Where the young and the gay and the best,

In polished white mansions of stone, Maggie,

Have each found a place of rest,

Is built were the birds used to play, Maggie,

And join in the songs that were sung:

For we sang as gay as they, Maggie,

When you and I were young.

CHORUS 

3. They say I am feeble with age, Maggie

My steps are less sprightly than then,

My face is a well-written page, Maggie,

But time alone was the pen.

They say we are aged and gray, Maggie,

As sprays by the white breakers flung;

But to me you’re as fair as you were, Maggie

When you and I were young.

CHORUS

(Source: Johnson, George W. and Butterfield, J A., "When You and I Were Young, Maggie" (1908). Historic Sheet Music Collection. 1723)

 

Video Links

John McDermott, with piano accompaniment. 

Foster and Allen, titled “Maggie” (vocals plus guitar and accordion, along with an interesting video)

The Alexander Brothers, also titled “Maggie” 

Anne’s pick: Donna Stewart and Ron Andrico, a.k.a Eulalie

Our helpful intro post is sure to liven up your folk song adventures.

For more information on our folk songs, and for Amazon affiliate 

links to purchase individual songs, see our AO Folk Songs page.

These affiliate links help support AmblesideOnline.

Folk Song for March 2025: All Through the Night

This is one of the most well-known Welsh folk songs, which has been translated into several languages. Wikipedia notes that “The song is highly popular with traditional Welsh male voice choirs, and is sung by them at festivals in Wales and around the world.” Sir Harold Boulton wrote the best-known English lyrics in 1884.

The melody has been used for Christian hymns such as "Go My Children With My Blessing” (1983), “God That Madest Earth and Heaven” (1827) and "Father in your Love Enfold Us” (author unknown). It is also used for the hymn "For the Fruit of All Creation" by Fred Pratt Green. 

Lyrics

These are the lyrics by Sir Harold Boulton. Additional verses can be found on Wikipedia. 

Sleep my child and peace attend thee,

All through the night

Guardian angels God will send thee,

All through the night

Soft the drowsy hours are creeping

Hill and vale in slumber sleeping,

I my loving vigil keeping

All through the night.

 

While the moon her watch is keeping

All through the night

While the weary world is sleeping

All through the night

O'er thy spirit gently stealing

Visions of delight revealing

Breathes a pure and holy feeling

All through the night.

 

Video Links

On our AO Folksongs page we have included links to these four Youtube videos:

Sara Gunter’s recording of the song (plus a montage of sleeping children) 

The JCtribute recording (male voice, easy to sing along with) 

Richard Sharp’s instrumental version (guitar)

This version sung in Welsh by a men’s choir, showing a montage of photos of Wales, including some of coal miners 

One more from Advisory member Anne White: Peter, Paul and Mary’s version from their 1970 album Peter, Paul and Mommy.  More for listening than for singing along, as they do a fair amount of creative harmonizing and their lyrics are slightly simplified; but a beautiful rendition just the same.

Our helpful intro post is sure to liven up your folk song adventures.

For more information on our folk songs, and for Amazon affiliate 

links to purchase individual songs, see our AO Folk Songs page.

These affiliate links help support AmblesideOnline.

Folk Song for February 2025: Mairi's Wedding

“Mairi’s Wedding” is not a folk song in the traditional sense, as it was written by one person (and translated by another). In 1934,  a Scottish singer named Mary C. MacNiven won a gold medal at the National Mòd.  J. R. Bannerman composed a song in Gaelic in honour of her performance (and not about a wedding at all), which was later expanded to a Scottish country dance tune.

Sir Hugh Roberton, the conductor of the Glasgow Orpheus Choir, wrote an English version of the song, but changed the context from “Mairi’s Gold Medal at the Music Festival” to “Mairi’s Wedding.” It is also called the “Lewis Bridal Song.” MacNiven’s 1997 obituary stated that “among Mary's prized possessions was the original copy of the translation autographed by the choral maestro.” 

Lyrics

As the song is under copyright, we recommend that you use the lyrics found on the Scottish Country Dancing Dictionary. 

Video Links

We recommend the following videos:

The High Kings, performing on a PBS T.V. special (they call it “Marie’s Wedding”) . This one may be useful for singing along as it does not go as fast as some versions. 

The King’s Singers, from their album Annie Laurie: Folksongs of the British Isles

This video recorded at the Portadown Summer Party in 2009 is instrumental only, but shows people dancing to the tune. 

A note from Advisory member Anne White: There are several videos of the Rankin Family performing Mairi’s Wedding, but our family particularly liked this very lively live version, especially because of the young dancers. (There is an additional fiddle tune called “Malcolm Finlay” at the end of the video.) 

 

Our helpful intro post is sure to liven up your folk song adventures.

For more information on our folk songs, and for Amazon affiliate 

links to purchase individual songs, see our AO Folk Songs page.

These affiliate links help support AmblesideOnline.