My Great Great Great Grandfather's Obituary

From The Gentleman's Magazine (1829, p. 373).

Obituary

1828 - In India, aged 46, Lieut-Colonel William Dickson, commanding the 7th regiment of Bengal Cavalry at Kernaul in the Upper Provinces.

This gentleman was the eldest son of the late Thomas Dickson, esq. of Southampton and by his mother descended from Col. Gardiner, who was killed at the head of his regiment at Preston Pans in 1745 and whose "Confessions" are well known.

Col. Dickson entered the Army of the East Indies in 1802; he was particularly noticed by General Lake in the general orders of 24 Oct, 1804, for his gallant conduct at the seige of Delhi where he was present as a Lieutenant in the 2nd battle of the 14th regiment, as well as on other occassions; and he was twice severely wounded.

For several years afterwards, the management of one of the principal stud departments was entrusted to his superintendence. His merits as a cavalry officer were well known and appreciated by the government; and a very few months before his death, the highest eulogians were passed on his meritious conduct and the discipline of his regiment by Lord Combermore. Col Dickson was moreover a man of considerable literary attainments; he was of cheerful disposition, temperate in his habits, a strict disciplinarian but conciliatory, and kind to those under his command, a warm and zealous friend, and an indulgent and affectionate husband and father.

Having nearly completed his period of service, Col. Dickson was on the eve of returning to England, when his life was suddenly terminated by a violent fever. His remains were interred the day after his death, with the highest military honours, the General commanding the station and all the troops attending. The Colonel is the third brother who has fallen in the military service of the East India Company; one survives, the present Peter Dickson, esq. of Southampton. Their mother is still living, at an advanced age. Col. Dickson was married early, and has left a widow and several children.

IQ AND THE POETS - ARE YOU SMART?

When you open your mouth to speak, are you smart? A funny question from a great song, but also, a good one, when it comes to poets, and poetry. We tend to have a very ambiguous view of intelligence in poetry, one that I'd say is dysfunctional. Basically, it goes like this: once you are safely dead, it no longer matters how smart you were. For instance, Auden was smarter than Yeats , but most would still say Yeats is the finer poet; Eliot is clearly highly intelligent, but how much of Larkin 's work required a high IQ? Meanwhile, poets while alive tend to be celebrated if they are deemed intelligent: Anne Carson, Geoffrey Hill , and Jorie Graham , are all, clearly, very intelligent people, aside from their work as poets. But who reads Marianne Moore now, or Robert Lowell , smart poets? Or, Pound ? How smart could Pound be with his madcap views? Less intelligent poets are often more popular. John Betjeman was not a very smart poet, per se....

Poetry vs. Literature

Poetry is, of course, a part of literature. But, increasingly, over the 20th century, it has become marginalised - and, famously, has less of an audience than "before". I think that, when one considers the sort of criticism levelled against Seamus Heaney and "mainstream poetry", by poet-critics like Jeffrey Side , one ought to see the wider context for poetry in the "Anglo-Saxon" world. This phrase was used by one of the UK's leading literary cultural figures, in a private conversation recently, when they spoke eloquently about the supremacy of "Anglo-Saxon novels" and their impressive command of narrative. My heart sank as I listened, for what became clear to me, in a flash, is that nothing has changed since Victorian England (for some in the literary establishment). Britain (now allied to America) and the English language with its marvellous fiction machine, still rule the waves. I personally find this an uncomfortable position - but when ...

"I have crossed oceans of time to find you..."

In terms of great films about, and of, love, we have Vertigo, In The Mood for Love , and Casablanca , Doctor Zhivago , An Officer and a Gentleman , at the apex; as well as odder, more troubling versions, such as Sophie's Choice and Silence of the Lambs . I think my favourite remains Bram Stoker's Dracula , with the great immortal line "I have crossed oceans of time to find you...".

E Y E W E A R, THE BLOG - FREEDOM MEANS BEING UNAFRAID TO WRITE WHAT YOU THINK

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