• Notes on The Jungle, Max de Silva
    May 8 2024
    The JungleThe Work of an Unknown AuthorEdited by Max de Silva 2020 A DedicationWhether or not the original text of The Jungle included a dedication can, sadly, only be a matter of random speculation given the passage of so many hundreds of years, but for my own part I would like to dedicate my contribution in its publication, the Preface and Notes, to two who have been an inspiration throughout the long and sometime complex process of editing. They know who they are. MM and Fion Cati. Contents A Preface to the Work and an Explanation of its FindingThe JungleAn Index of Associations The Jungle A Preface to the Work and an Explanation of its Finding IntroductionThe Jungle is a curious work, and its provenance something of a mystery that I hope this edition will go some way towards illuminating. Many scholars, not least some of my own colleagues at the Department of English Literature at Marischial College, have commented that it is not a poem at all. Or even a reliable history. Fortunately, as an academic specialising in old English dialects and English colonial lexicons, and not poetry (or even Literature or Colonial Studies), it is not my place to enter into such debates. But why, you might most reasonably ask, is someone like me involved in this work at all? And what exactly is this work? The two questions are deeply intertwined. The Jungle (and that is not its real title, as you will learn) is not an complete piece of writing. It is missing parts – how many exactly we cannot really know. But I am getting ahead of myself. I will begin at the beginning, relatively speaking. The Buchanan-Smith Archive The manuscript was discovered amongst the paper of Lady Margie Buchanan-Smith, a Scottish landowner from Balerno, south of Edinburgh, who died in 1901. Buchanan-Smith was well known in her time for her crossbreed shorthorn cattle, which later went on to produce the beef for which Scotland is now so famous. But she was also a collector of antiquarian papers, and left her considerable, albeit largely uncatalogued, library to the Montrose Library. There it sat, still in its original boxes until 1932 when T. Jerome Mockett (later Professor Mockett) discovered the trove of documents and set about cataloguing them for the library. The Mockett Catalogue Many interesting first-hand accounts were revealed by Mockett’s careful cataloguing, the Diaries of Captain Graham Laurie, being probably the most famous, written as there were over the period of the later Napoleonic wars. The Diaries capture in vivid detail what life was like for a merchant ship ferrying trade from the East and West Indies through seas swarming with French frigates. As we know, Laurie’s Diaries later went onto inspire the Hornblower novels written by C. S. Forester. Laurie would later go on to create a not inconsiderable scandal by his marriage to Coco zur Wager, the natural daughter of the French pretender, Bianca, Duchesse de Orleans-Bourbon. Scandal, it seems ran in that family for Laurie’s son, Dominic became a notable London buck and partner-in-arms of George Bryan "Beau" Brummell. The Jungle (and I will call it that for the sake of convenience) was one of the many manuscripts for which Professor Mockett could find few details. A Bill of Sale, still attached to the manuscript, showed that it had been bought by Buchanan-Smith from Desmond Truscott, an antiquarian bookseller then based in Edinburgh’s Lawnmarket in 1884. The Rutland Family From that small ticket, it is possible to trace a likely provenance to the Rutland family, who had for several generations been tenants of the Langold-Gillows, the eminent eighteenth-century furniture makers who later built Leyton Park near Slackhead in the Lake District . The Rutland’s were tenant farmers of the Leyton Park Estate. The last of the line, Katarina Kennedy Rutland, married Rupert, the swashbuckling younger son of the watercolourist and poet Sir Simon Langold-Gillow, who famously meet his end aged 98 when out sketching Scafell Pike in a snowstorm. Katarina Kennedy Langold-Gillow (nee Rutland) was widowed early after Rupert Langold-Gillow came off the worse in a local duel. She spent the years of her widowhood living at Leyton Park, taking a particular interest in rescuing the famous Herdwick sheep breed, introduced into the area by Vikings and later immortalised by Beatrix Potter; but in her time, almost extinct. She left her own papers, which included the complete papers of the Rutland family, to the Library at Leyton Park. The Langold-Gillow Library When eventually, in 1854, Sir Stefan Langold-Gillow came into the baronetage, the Leyton Park Library was sold off. The new baronet, a member of Cardinal Newman’s Oxford Movement, was interested in theology and kept behind only those books and papers that related to his particular interest. The rest – including a ...
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    32 mins
  • The Jungle, edited by Max de Silva
    May 8 2024
    The JungleThe Work of an Unknown Author Edited by Max de Silva, 2020I secrets Nothing yet does the jungle give,however long you wait or watch; it is eternal, it does not age. Its appearance is scarcely a hintof all that is hidden - tight-lipped, dark green; ceaselessly undisturbed, untouched, unconcerned even; indifferent to what begins where,or how, or why - as if it could knowthat it will allsimply return. Actually,it is a great wall, limitless, its ends unreported,holding closethe smuggled secrets of this day and tomorrow, of one millennia to the next, filtering the sun like a censor, carrying forward its confidential cargos in low capacious vaults. Listen now; stop, and listen. It speaks in ciphersthat have no key,yet picks out imperfectionsbetraying themlike a spy to an enemy, dipping, dipping into nameless valleys and up the steep sides of unforgetting hills. II island The songs that have enduredare merely words,the tunes themselves long lost; the texts are somewhat incomplete, but what survivesis that perfect island, presented in the way a child might dream of an island set in a great sea, rising up from forested beaches to a centre of mighty mountains that disappear into clouds. Immense riverstumble back down. In the villagesthe old dances are still young; new babies are fed on milk dipped in gold before their horoscopes are taken. Numbers rule the universe. Boys touch the feet of elders; householdsprepare their daughtersto come of agewashed in water with herbs, the girl concealed until she is presented with her own reflection swimming in a silver bowlbeneath her face. The gems later looted from their antique tombswere not even from the island - diamonds, emeralds,even amber, to mixwith their own stones, pink sapphires and rubies, garnets, topaz, aquamarines;rose quartz fine enough to see through. Carpenters inlaid furniture with ivory and rare woods; crafted secret chambers, hidden drawers. Fish sang off long sandy beaches. And along the rivers stretched parks,warehouses, jetties, mansions. III bounty Later,they measured that happiness,when happiness was a choice, recalling a time of bounty, an embarrassment of great cities,of shipping lanes that converged on southern ports. The safe shallow waters of the Lagoon welcomed visitors. Kings ruled, father to son,brother to brother,daring to do all they thought, There were brindleberries and fenugreek; lemongrass, mangos; the coconuts fruited; frangipani bloomed, ylang ylang, ,even kadupul flowers, queens of the night. High wooden watchtowers rose protectivelyover wide courtyards, and gardens grew cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, vanilla. Waters rippled in great tanks built by kings like inland seasto flow to fields and homes. Kitchens prepared milk riceand new disheswith ginger and kitel, turmeric, tamarind. In the shade of palace buildingsfrescos were painted, statues carved, the talk was of new trade routes,marriages, miracles. Tomorrow is tomorrow - <...
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    1 hr and 52 mins
  • Douglas Dunn. Love Poem.
    Oct 18 2023

    I live in you, you live in me;
    We are two gardens haunted by each other.
    Sometimes I cannot find you there,
    There is only the swing creaking, that you have just left,
    Or your favourite book beside the sundial.

    The Ceylon Press currently produces three podcast shows.
    1. The Jungle Diaries (www.theceylonpress.com/thejunglediariespodcast)
    2. The History of Sri Lanka (www.theceylonpress.com/thehistoryofsrilankapodcast)
    3. Poetry from the Jungle

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    1 min
  • Douglas Dunn. Kaleidoscope.
    Oct 18 2023

    To climb these stairs again, bearing a tray,
    Might be to find you pillowed with your books,
    Your inventories listing gowns and frocks
    As if preparing for a holiday.
    Or, turning from the landing, I might find
    My presence watched through your kaleidoscope,
    A symmetry of husbands, each redesigned
    In lovely forms of foresight, prayer and hope.
    I climb these stairs a dozen times a day
    And, by the open door, wait, looking in
    At where you died. My hands become a tray
    Offering me, my flesh, my soul, my skin.
    Grief wrongs us so. I stand, and wait, and cry
    For the absurd forgiveness, not knowing why.

    The Ceylon Press currently produces three podcast shows.
    1. The Jungle Diaries (www.theceylonpress.com/thejunglediariespodcast)
    2. The History of Sri Lanka (www.theceylonpress.com/thehistoryofsrilankapodcast)
    3. Poetry from the Jungle

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    2 mins
  • William Blake. The Tyger.
    Oct 5 2023

    Tyger Tyger, burning bright,

    In the forests of the night;

    What immortal hand or eye,

    Could frame thy fearful symmetry?


    In what distant deeps or skies.

    Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

    On what wings dare he aspire?

    What the hand, dare seize the fire?


    And what shoulder, & what art,

    Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

    And when thy heart began to beat.

    What dread hand? & what dread feet?


    What the hammer? what the chain,

    In what furnace was thy brain?

    What the anvil? what dread grasp.

    Dare its deadly terrors clasp?


    When the stars threw down their spears

    And water'd heaven with their tears:

    Did he smile his work to see?

    Did he who made the Lamb make thee?


    Tyger Tyger burning bright,

    In the forests of the night:

    What immortal hand or eye,

    Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

    The Ceylon Press currently produces three podcast shows.
    1. The Jungle Diaries (www.theceylonpress.com/thejunglediariespodcast)
    2. The History of Sri Lanka (www.theceylonpress.com/thehistoryofsrilankapodcast)
    3. Poetry from the Jungle (www.theceylonpress.com/poetryfromthejunglepodcast

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    2 mins
  • William Blake. From "Milton".
    Oct 5 2023

    And did those feet in ancient time
    Walk upon England’s mountains green?
    And was the holy Lamb of God
    On England’s pleasant pastures seen?

    And did the Countenance Divine
    Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
    And was Jerusalem builded here
    Among these dark Satanic Mills?

    Bring me my bow of burning gold!
    Bring me my arrows of desire!
    Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
    Bring me my chariot of fire!

    I will not cease from mental fight,
    Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
    Till we have built Jerusalem
    In England’s green and pleasant land.


    The Ceylon Press currently produces three podcast shows.
    1. The Jungle Diaries (www.theceylonpress.com/thejunglediariespodcast)
    2. The History of Sri Lanka (www.theceylonpress.com/thehistoryofsrilankapodcast)
    3. Poetry from the Jungle (www.theceylonpress.com/poetryfromthejunglepodcast

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    2 mins
  • John Betjeman. A Subaltern's Love Song.
    Oct 5 2023

    Miss J.Hunter Dunn, Miss J.Hunter Dunn,
    Furnish'd and burnish'd by Aldershot sun,
    What strenuous singles we played after tea,
    We in the tournament - you against me!

    Love-thirty, love-forty, oh! weakness of joy,
    The speed of a swallow, the grace of a boy,
    With carefullest carelessness, gaily you won,
    I am weak from your loveliness, Joan Hunter Dunn

    Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn,
    How mad I am, sad I am, glad that you won,
    The warm-handled racket is back in its press,
    But my shock-headed victor, she loves me no less.

    Her father's euonymus shines as we walk,
    And swing past the summer-house, buried in talk,
    And cool the verandah that welcomes us in
    To the six-o'clock news and a lime-juice and gin.

    The scent of the conifers, sound of the bath,
    The view from my bedroom of moss-dappled path,
    As I struggle with double-end evening tie,
    For we dance at the Golf Club, my victor and I.

    On the floor of her bedroom lie blazer and shorts,
    And the cream-coloured walls are be-trophied with sports,
    And westering, questioning settles the sun,
    On your low-leaded window, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn.

    The Hillman is waiting, the light's in the hall,
    The pictures of Egypt are bright on the wall,
    My sweet, I am standing beside the oak stair
    And there on the landing's the light on your hair.

    By roads "not adopted", by woodlanded ways,
    She drove to the club in the late summer haze,
    Into nine-o'clock Camberley, heavy with bells
    And mushroomy, pine-woody, evergreen smells.

    Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn,
    I can hear from the car park the dance has begun,
    Oh! Surrey twilight! importunate band!
    Oh! strongly adorable tennis-girl's hand!

    Around us are Rovers and Austins afar,
    Above us the intimate roof of the car,
    And here on my right is the girl of my choice,
    With the tilt of her nose and the chime of her voice.

    And the scent of her wrap, and the words never said,
    And the ominous, ominous dancing ahead.
    We sat in the car park till twenty to one
    And now I'm engaged to Miss Joan Hunter Dunn.

    The Ceylon Press currently produces three podcast shows.
    1. The Jungle Diaries (www.theceylonpress.com/thejunglediariespodcast)
    2. The History of Sri Lanka (www.theceylonpress.com/thehistoryofsrilankapodcast)
    3. Poetry from the Jungle (www.theceylonpress.com/poetryfromthejunglepodcast

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    3 mins
  • John Betjeman. How To Get On In Society.
    Oct 5 2023

    Phone for the fish knives, Norman
    As cook is a little unnerved;
    You kiddies have crumpled the serviettes
    And I must have things daintily served.

    Are the requisites all in the toilet?
    The frills round the cutlets can wait
    Till the girl has replenished the cruets
    And switched on the logs in the grate.

    It's ever so close in the lounge dear,
    But the vestibule's comfy for tea
    And Howard is riding on horseback
    So do come and take some with me

    Now here is a fork for your pastries
    And do use the couch for your feet;
    I know that I wanted to ask you-
    Is trifle sufficient for sweet?

    Milk and then just as it comes dear?
    I'm afraid the preserve's full of stones;
    Beg pardon, I'm soiling the doileys
    With afternoon tea-cakes and scones.


    The Ceylon Press currently produces three podcast shows.
    1. The Jungle Diaries (www.theceylonpress.com/thejunglediariespodcast)
    2. The History of Sri Lanka (www.theceylonpress.com/thehistoryofsrilankapodcast)
    3. Poetry from the Jungle (www.theceylonpress.com/poetryfromthejunglepodcast

    Show More Show Less
    2 mins