Transcript
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The Reluctant Vicar
Martha Bebinger
The monarch’s wings blinked, open and closed, with coy grace.
Camden followed the rhythm: twice fast, twice slow, then a pause with a
slight tremor. Was this science or seduction? Camden, at 10, did not know
the difference. But he could feel both.
Camden Farebrother was on a quest to find the illusive African
monarch and the Goliathus beetle. Each, it was rumored, had migrated to
England aboard ships carrying future stable hands and maids. Camden’s
tutor claimed he had seen both. So Camden, determined to find the
monarch and the beetle, had
been crawling through the
meadow behind his
grandfather’s stable since
dawn.
George Noble’s stable fit
the needs of a vicar in the
most affluent parish (1) in Middlemarch (2). He kept three well-groomed
horses, two for his carriage and one that could handle short rides in any
weather, any time of the day or night. Camden fed the horses and led them
out into the paddock before starting his expedition. One of the horses gazed
at Camden now as he
dragged himself along
1
1) In 1790, the approximate year of Camden Farebrother’sbirth, the “living” of a parish vicar was based on the mandattithing of his parishioners.Daniel Pool, What Jane Austen Ate and Dickens Knew:From Fox Hunting to Whist - the Facts of Daily Life in19th-Century England (New York: Simon and Schuste1993)
By the time Farebrother receives a parish in chapter 52 of Middlemarch, many were under the control of local landown(as with Dorothea Casauban and Lowick parish). With thischange, a vicar’s “living” depended on the whim of landedgentry, not their parishioners. Ibid
2) Although Farebrother’s mother says she was “born and bred inExeter,” (Middlemarch, chapter 17), Eliot suggests that the
parsonage in which we meet the Farebrothers is the same one the
vicar grew up in, so I set his early and later life in Middlemarch.
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a creek that traced the paddock’s back edge. Beetles loved the damp moss
on rocks lining the creek and butterflies flocked to clumps of sage like the
one Camden lay under, staring up at his treasure.
Camden’s heart filled with love and wonder, even though this monarch
was missing the red flame of Africa. He closed his eyes to savor the
moment. His mind drifted to the mild sting of sun and sweat penetrating
bramble cuts across his face. His stomach growled. It must be time for
breakfast. Would there be fresh bread?
The monarch. Camden knew before his eyes flew open that it was
gone. He had offended it by looking away. His treasure could not be far off.
Camden rose,
clenching the
stained doily that
held two common
dung beetles.
They were the
latest additions to
a collection he
dreamed would one day rival his
hero, Gilbert White (3).
“Camden.” His mother’s voice,
floating across the field, was so faint,
he could pretend he didn’t hear. He
2
(3) “Mr. Farebrother, like another White of Selbourne, having
continually something new to tell of his inarticulate guests…”George Eliot, Middlemarch, chapter 80.
Eliot hints here that Farebrother has a serious interest in science. GilbertWhite, the man she connects to Farebrother, was a British naturalist, aChurch of England curate and author. His book, The Natural History and
Antiquities of Selborne (1788), would have been a primary reference forFarebrother, as it was for Charles Darwin. But White and Farebrother werenot of the same mind on religion. While Farebrother is comfortableexploring Methodism, White was loyal to the Church of England. White’sgreat grandnephew, Rashleigh Holt White, wrote The Life and Letters of Gilbert White of Selbourne in 1901, in part, to argue that his great uncleshould not be “taxed with pluralism.” New York Times book review,6/22/1901.
(4) Farebrother would have been about 20 yearsolder than Charles Darwin, but I believe Eliotintended to suggest a few parallels. Here’s Darwin,discussing his beetle collection:
“One day, on tearing off some old bark, I saw tworare beetles and seized one in each hand; then athird and new kind, which I could not bear to lose so Ipopped the one in my right hand into my mouth.Alas it ejected some intensely acrid fluid, which burntmy tongue so that I was forced to spit the beetle out,which was lost, as well as the third one.”
Darwin, Charles. The Autobiography of CharlesDarwin. London: W.W. Norton & Co., 1887, p 9.
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kept moving slowly through the tall grass, squinting to focus his
concentration on anything small, dark and airborne. One of the beetles (4)
wiggled through the lace border of his doily. “Camden!” The whisper of a
voice gained an edge. Camden frowned. He’d finished his chores on this
beautiful Sunday in June. Oh, Sunday. His grandfather would expect to see
Camden between his mother and father in the front pew. His sister, Winifred
would be on the other side of his mother, ignoring imploring looks from
Solomon Featherstone (5).
Camden turned slowly away from his celebration of nature. His
magical day was about to be stolen by
the church. Camden loved and
resented church. He marveled at the
grand building that used the best of
man’s stone, wood and glass talents to
imitate the beauty of God’s sky, trees
and animals but shut them out. His soul soared with the organ every Sunday
only to have his grandfather’s sermons about sin and retribution beat it back
down.
Camden longed to linger in the field with the music of trilling birds, the
gurgling brook and currents in the wind. His god was in anthills, moth
cocoons, spider webs and beehives. Camden could not connect to the God
who required starched knickers and stillness on a hard bench beneath his
grandfather’s withering gaze.
3
5) In chapter 52, Farebrother tells hismother, sister and aunt he has the“Lowick living.”
“As for you, Winny,” the vicar wenton, “I shall make no difficulty aboutyour marrying any Lowick bachelor -Mr. Solomon Featherstone, forexample - as soon as I find you are in
love with him.”
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But that’s where Camden found himself an hour after flirting with the
monarch that he now imagined was an African queen. He squirmed on the
bench as the heat of the day set in. Sweat, again, seeped into his bramble
scrapes and sores. He looked longingly towards a window at the end of his
pew and saw her. His queen; she had come for him.
The butterfly, with light bouncing off her stained glass wings, flew over
Camden towards the back of the church. Camden stood, in a trance, and
followed his queen past the hissed reproach of his own parents, the shudders
of other mothers, the stunned looks of parish elders and the wonder of other
Sunday slaves, longing to be free. With one final leap he was back in the
gleaming unfiltered sunlight. He would celebrate the Lord in his outdoor
sanctuary (6).
As the boy became a young man, he followed Gilbert White’s example
with a vengeance. Camden fashioned drawers for his more than 300
specimens of spiders, moths,
water bugs, bees and his
favorite, beetles. He had 12
versions of the Seven Spot
Ladybird alone. Camden loved
to find them hibernating in the
stable on a cold morning, 10 or
12 on top of each other to
keep warm. Sketches of his
4
(6) CF will struggle with the tension betweenscience and the church his whole life. Whileto the public, the church appears to win, itdoes not claim his heart.
There are at least three references to thistension. We learn in chapter 17 that “thevicar felt himself not altogether in the rightvocation.”
In ch. 50 Lydgate tells Dorothea that the
vicar often hints he’s in the wrongprofession, “He is very fond of naturalhistory and various scientific matters, andhe is hampered in reconciling these tasteswith his position.”
In ch. 52, when accepting the Lowick living,Farebrother seems ready to reconcilehimself to a life in the church. He tellsLydgate, “I often used to wish I had beensomething else than a clergyman, but
perhaps it will be better to try and make asgood a clergyman out of myself as I can.”
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treasured collection covered Camden’s walls.
But by the time Camden turned 16, Vicar Noble made it clear, he was
grooming his only grandson for a future inside the church. Camden did not
resist, but he dreaded the daily drills. “Have we reviewed the ‘Songs of the
Suffering Servant’?, and can you tell me how this image applies to our Lord?”
his grandfather asked as Camden entered the study one gorgeous morning
in May. “Yes grandfather,” Camden answered with a small sigh. “We read
‘Isaiah’ twice last year and the Suffering Servant is our Lord Jesus Christ.”
Vicar Noble did not favor
interpretive preaching (7) . His
grandson must have a firm grasp of the
Bible’s direct meaning. The pair had
completed the entire Bible twice so far
in their studies. Camden wanted a
break. It was planting season. He would offer to sow a new field; one rich
with orthoptera, although he wouldn’t mention this attraction to his
grandfather. The buzz of crickets, locusts and grasshoppers were pulling him
back outdoors.
Camden was late, as usual, for his morning lesson. He often lingered
in the paddock after cleaning the stable. He couldn’t tear himself away from
the drama: an execution in the spider webs or a major colonial expansion
among the termites. The dung beetles were sluggish. Was it the chilly night
air or could there be a more troubling problem affecting the whole pod? A
5
(7) In ch. 17, Mrs. Farebrother tellsLydgate when she was growing up,“every respectable Church personhad the same opinions.” Herfather, continued Mrs. Farebrother,was a consistent, reliableclergyman. “My father neverchanged, and he preached plainmoral sermons without arguments,and was a good man-few better.
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colony of bees was building a hive in the tree that shaded the north corner.
Camden wondered if they were related to the colony across the road or were
they an invading tribe? He must catch one and compare.
Glancing towards the native bees, Camden saw a gentleman
inspecting their work. The stranger’s head bounced back and forth between
the nest and a book cradled on his left arm. He was writing furiously. Or
was he drawing? Camden thought about the beetle sketch tucked into the
cover of the Bible he carried. He wanted to say hello to the stranger, to
show him the sketch. But he was already late. Camden hurried towards his
grandfather’s house.
It was a handsome stone cottage, a miniature of the manor house at
the end of the long drive. Camden and his family moved in when he was
eight. His father, a lawyer, had come down with tuberculosis and was too
weak to work or maintain a house. Erasmus Farebrother faded quickly after
the move despite the best efforts of his wife. Camden and Winifred were
left to the care of a spinster aunt, Henrietta Noble, who fawned over them.
“Oh Henrietta, you’ve spoiled the children forever,” worried Mrs. Farebrother
when she was back in charge, reminding Camden and Winifred “to wear
flannel and not over-eat themselves” (Middlemarch, ch. 17). Henrietta died
years later with lumps of sugar she’d saved for the children in her pockets.
When Camden
entered the study, his
grandfather was pacing,
6
( 8) Lydgate in chapter 18 says of Farebrother, “very few men could havebeen as filial and chivalrous as he was tothe mother, aunt and sister, whosedependence on him had in many waysshaped his life rather uneasily for himself…”
And in ch. 50, when recommendingFarebrother to Dorothea, Lydgate says, “hismother, sister and aunt all live with him and
depend on him. I believe he has nevermarried because of them.”
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lost in thought. Camden sat down, suddenly unsure how to approach the
idea of taking a break. Should he suggest that his studies are complete?
Should he stress work that lay neglected in the fields? It didn’t matter. The
elder gentleman was ready with his own plan. “Camden, I believe you know
it has always been my wish that you should enter the clergy,” Camden’s
grandfather never bothered with pleasantries. “Serving the church is a noble
profession and one that will allow you, as the man of the house, to take care
of your mother and sister for as long as they may need you (8). Oh, and
your aunt too.” Henrietta Noble was always an afterthought, even to herself
(9).
“I have decided it is time…” Camden’s
grandfather paused and looked towards
a knock on the study door. It opened
and a timid Miss Noble, asking her father’s forgiveness, wondered if he might
have time to greet a gentleman visitor.
“He says his name is William Kirby (10) and that he’s an old friend from
Cambridge,” explained Miss Noble, breathless with excitement. Mr. Kirby
had just paid her the deepest compliment by noticing the delicate mend of
her old lace.
7
(9) In Ch. 50, Lydgate describesMiss Noble as a “wonderfully quaintpicture of self-forgetful goodness.”
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“Kirby, Kirby” muttered
Camden’s grandfather. He did
not like interruptions and did
not store sentimental
memories. But he was a loyal
Cambridge man and followed
most rules of etiquette. “Show
him in.”
Camden recognized the man
who entered before his
grandfather did. He hugged
his book close to this chest
and extended his right hand in
greeting.
“Pardon my interruption,” said Mr. Kirby, including the teacher and the
student with one nod. “I don’t know if you remember me, Vicar? It’s been
thirty years since we shared meals at Cambridge. I was walking this lovely
country when I saw your nameplate at the road. I thought I might pay my
respects and ask permission to observe the bee colonies on your land.”
8
(10) William Kirby is considered the founderof entomology. He, unlike many naturalistsof the time, was not a member of the clergy(even Charles Darwin’s family assumed hewould enter the clergy after he gave up
medicine). Kirby’s best-known work“Monograph on the Bees of England,” waspublished in 1802. He wrote about God’soverarching presence in science and religionin this passage from 1800:
‘The author of Scripture is also the author of Nature: and this visible world, by typesindeed, and by symbols, declares the sametruths as the Bible does by words. To makethe naturalist a religious man – to turn his
attention to the glory of God, that he maydeclare his works, and in the study of hiscreatures may see the loving-kindness of the Lord – may this in some measure be thefruit of my work…’
Kirby, William, On the Power Wisdom and Goodness of God. As Manifested in theCreation of Animals and in Their History,Habits and Instincts; Bridgewater Treatises,W. Pickering, 1835 (reissued by Cambridge
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Camden’s grandfather blanched. He had heard of these naturalists,
but did not expect one in a
man from Cambridge (11).
The gentlemen sat down for
tea and lapsed into that idle
exchange that has no
beginning or end. Camden
watched a warbler add
twigs, leaves and bits of
grass to its nest outside the
window. How wonderful it
would be to spend an
afternoon rocking in the
nest, looking towards
heaven through the
flickering new green of
spring leaves.
The warbler flew off
and Camden returned to
the room. He slid the beetle sketch from the back cover of his Bible and
worked quietly on shading the wings. A shadow fell across the page as
Camden heard his grandfather say, “I’m sorry you can’t stay for dinner,
Kirby, but do stop in again sometime.” The shadow didn’t move. Camden
9
(11) I’m intrigued by the question, is Farebrother aman of the old science (naturalism) or the newscience that Lydgate represents? Does GE useFarebrother as another way to illustrate how dense
Lydgate can be or is Farebrother lost to a world of dead bugs?
Sally Shuttleworth’s investigation of science focuseson Lydgate as the symbol of advancement. She doeschallenge Lydgate who “dismisses Farebrother’spractice of natural history” when the two mendiscuss science for the first time in Farebrother’sstudy (ch. 17).
But Marc Wormald argues that this scene establishesFarebrother as both a forward thinking scientist andas a sort of twin narrator. Farebrother and thenarrator both act as a “a cautious microscopist,” saysWormald. In science, Farebrother shows asophistication Lydgate doesn’t appreciate. “If onlyLydgate knew it, the amateur natural historian hasmuch to offer his own quest for organic origins andstructure”. (pg. 23)
On the narrative level, Wormald argues that forFarebrother and the narrator, “the lenses of theirdeveloping instruments are focused on the sameobjects, that ‘water-drop’ of provincial life and theprimitive creatures moving obscurely within it.” HereWormald refers both to the scene in Ch. 36 whenFarebrother comes to Lydgate’s room” with somepond products he wanted to examine under a bettermicroscope than his own” and in the way in which hebecomes a lens through with the reader seesLydgate, Fred Vincy and others.
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looked up.
“Well sir, that’s a fine image of a black clock beetle. You’ve captured
the layering of the front and back wings exactly as I would myself,” said
Kirby with surprise. “And the half eaten slug is an imaginative addition. I
didn’t realize I had a colleague in the room. What’s your name, young
man?”
Camden blushed. He was proud of his sketches even though everyone
in the family shuddered when they found him at work on “portraits” of
crawling creatures.
“I’m Camden Farebrother, sir, Vicar Noble’s grandson,” said Camden,
rising as his voice dropped. “I’ve collected beetles and other insects since I
was a young boy. I follow the work of Gilbert White with my sketches and
notes. Perhaps you know Mr. White of Selbourne?”
A slow smile spread across Mr. Kirby’s face. It was true, what he’d
heard, that a passion for nature and science was spreading across the land.
This young man might be just the person Mr. Kirby needed to help him finish
the manuscript that would put bees at the forefront of natural history.
Turning back to his host he nodded. “Thank you sir, if the dinner invitation is
still open, I accept.”
Five days later, Camden left with Mr. Kirby for Ipswich. He was to
spend the last six months of 1808 helping Mr. Kirby catalogue and sketch
bees for his book. Camden would postpone study for exams he needed to
enter the clergy, a disappointment his grandfather bore in silence. In that
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moment before Mr. Kirby arrived, Vicar Noble had been ready to announce
that Camden would begin his exam preparations. The Vicar could not
understand wasting a minute on bees unless you needed to smash one. Still,
his grandson seemed young to sit for exams. Perhaps a little time in a
bustling port town would add some wisdom to his age.
Camden’s sheltered view of the world cracked the first day of his
journey with Mr Kirby. The wizened traveler and his 18 year old apprentice
stopped for the night in the “gently-swelling meadow and wooded valley” of
the village, Hayslope ( Adam Bede, ch.2). The carriage driver let them out at
the village green. It was crowded with men, women and children, looking
towards a maple tree and a small cart that was “to serve as a pulpit.” (Ibid)
They were waiting to hear the Methodist “preacher-woman.” Camden had
never heard a woman preach. His grandfather warned him about Methodists
(12), those disrespectful
men who urged
parishioners to speak
directly to God. But a
woman preacher; what
could that mean?
Camden’s grandfather had
not prepared him for this
possibility.
In a moment she
11
(12) There are several references toFarebrother as “Methodistical” (see Mr. Hawleyusing the word as an insult in ch. 18). But hedoes not fit the mold either personally orprofessionally. Farebrother feeds “a weaknessor two (tobacco and gambling) lest they shouldget clamorous” (ch. 17), which would not beallowed of a Methodist. In addition, hepreaches with “plain and easy eloquence,”according to Lydgate in ch. 50, not the passionascribed to Methodists of the time.
Farebrother sounds more like the ReverendIrwine in Adam Bede whom Elizabeth Ermarthdescribes as an “honorable, effectiveclergyman, comfortable in his elegant habitsbut mindful of his duties to a widowed motherand sickly sister, and far better for hisparishioners than a more dogmatic andconsistent man could ever be.”
Ermarth, Elizabeth Reeds. Geor e Eliot . Boston:
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appeared, a small, plainly dressed woman, with large gray eyes. She was
not much older than Camden’s sister Winifred, but she moved with a
presence he had never felt before. She spoke, calmly at first, then with
increasing agitation and urgency as she pleaded with the crowd to “turn to
God while there was yet time.” (ibid) Somehow Camden had drifted to the
front of the crowd as it ebbed and flowed with the passion of Dinah Morriss’s
words. He was mesmerized. He would follow her anywhere. Suddenly,
Dinah turned and looked directly at him.
“You, who spoil the Lord’s body,” (how did she know he had tasted drink).
“You, who waste the Lord’s talents on idle pursuits,” (how did she know he
played cards?)
“You, who trifle with the wisdom of your elders,” (how did she know he had
just left home, disappointing his mother, grandfather and probably Aunt
Noble, whom he hadn’t bothered to consult?)
Camden was shaking as Dinah Morriss stretched her arms to
encompass the crowd.
“Dear Friends, Jesus stands ready to help you now. But if you wait until the
judgment day, he will turn from you and say, ‘Depart from me into
everlasting fire!’”
(ibid)
Flickering lights danced in Camden’s eyes. His mind went blank. A
firm but gentle arm guided him out of the crowd to a bench at the far end of
the Green. “Well, now we know a woman can preach,” smiled Mr. Kirby,
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handing Camden a piece of peppermint. “Myself, I’m reminded that while
my bees buzz and occasionally sting, they don’t carry the power of those
biting words,” continued Kirby. “There is order in nature, Camden, and that
order serves the glory of our Lord. You can depend on it.” It took Camden a
long time to finish the peppermint and gather his wits. He resolved to
admire powerful women from a distance from now on.
In Ipswich, Camden’s days were a blur of bees, the docks and men with
ideas that baffled the young mind. They talked about similarities between
the habits of bees, birds and even bears. A few visitors to Mr. Kirby’s home
described slicing open mice and dissecting their organs with the help of a
microscope. Camden had seen but never used a microscope. He was
curious but he didn’t
understand the point of
looking at how animals
were put together on the
inside.
Somehow what these
men could see in small
slices lead them to argue
that the rules of nature
were separate from the will
of God (13). They
challenged the Bible and
13
13) Farebrother illustrates a central theme inMiddlemarch, the growing influence of sciencein Victorian England at the expense of thechurch.
In the early 19th
Century, the prevailing viewwas that “natural objects show evidences of design, thus showing the existence of adesigning God.”
Fyfe, Aileen. “Victorian Science and Religion.”Victorian Web. Ed. George P. Landow. BrownUniversity. 11 June 2002.http://www.victorianweb.org/science/science&religion.html.
But this view of nature as God’s creation wasstarting to break down. Broadview says “thepredominance of scientific rationalism andempiricist method” along with a “destabilizedChristian certainty,” created a tide of “religious skepticism.”
Black, Joseph, ed. The Broadview Anthology of British Literature. Toronto: Broadview Press,2006, p. xlviii.
We know that George Eliot was, during thewriting of Middlemarch, also translating The
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showed no fear of retribution. Camden listened with fascination, but he was
scared too.
By day, Camden organized, catalogued, cleaned and sketched Kirby’s
collection of hundreds of bees. By night he worked on his beetle drawings
and listened to men who were shaping the new field of entomology. Mr. Kirby
was their leader although his position as the leading thinker of the time was
beginning to slip. There were heated arguments about who could take credit
for discoveries, names and ideas. Camden watched the passion of these men
with great interest. He loved his insects but could not understand claiming
ownership of nature. It did not belong to man. Creation belonged to the
creator, God.
Most of the men who stopped by Mr. Kirby’s house in the evenings
ignored Camden. But one night Mr. James Stephens stopped to look at one
of his beetle sketches. Stephens was beginning work on a book about
beetles and he invited Camden to submit a few drawings from his collection.
“Your current samples are not unique,” he warned Camden. “But if you find
something unusual, can define its generic and specific distinctions and
establish its common location,
then send me a sketch.”
The invitation sent Camden
scurrying out into the woods
many early mornings and for
longer excursions on Sundays.
14
14) Both Farebrother and his friendsdescribe a man for whom it is too late to bewhat he might have been (to paraphrase aquote attributed to George Eliot).
In ch. 18, the vicar tells Lydgate, “the worldhas been too strong for me…I shall neverhave been a man of renown.” Lydgate, tohimself, concludes “that there was a pitiableinfirmity of will in Mr. Farebrother.”
But we could also conclude that Farebrotherwas caught in the conflicted roles of a son, ascientist and a clergyman in an age of rapidchange. And of course, there’s thequestion, what does it mean to achieverenown?
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He crawled across fields and through bogs, gently pulling moss off damp
rocks and bark off trees, holding his breath in anticipation of what might lay
underneath. After two months he found what appeared to be the Sherwood
Forrest hazel pot beetle. Camden produced a drawing that Mr. Kirby called
“sublime.” 20 years later it appeared in Stephens’ highly acclaimed,
Illustrations of British Entomology . Camden’s last name was misspelled, C.
Farbother (14). It would be the only time Camden’s name, in any form,
appeared in a publication.
While Camden finished the sketches for Mr. Kirby’s treatise on bees,
his mentor wrote the text for the book and prepared a series of lectures he
was to deliver at Cambridge University that fall. Mr. Kirby hoped the lectures
and book would help him win an open position for a professor of Botany.
Kirby, a Tory, was not politically popular among the Cambridge elite and he
faced stiff competition.
The final decision would rest on a debate between Kirby and John
Stevens Henslow (15), a brilliant, but
not well established, young scientist.
The gentle Camden tried to assume
Henslow’s fiery speech as he helped his
mentor prepare for the match.
Inside the Cambridge lecture hall,
supporters of Kirby and Henslow
mingled in the front row. Camden sat
15
15) John Stevens Henslow may bebest remembered as a tutor andmentor for Charles Darwin, but healso held weekly science soireesthat Farebrother would haveattended while at Cambridge.Henslow, a botanist, gave hisstudents plants and told them to
dissect and define the innerstructure and then compare notes.He influenced many leadingscientists of the times. JohnAudubon named the HenslowSparrow for him. Henslow was avicar in a parish outsideCambridge. He did have a sisternamed Charlotte. I don’t know if she had a pet spider.
Walters, S.M and Stow, E.A.Darwin’s Mentor: John StevensHenslow 1796-1861. Cambrid e:
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down next to Charlotte Henslow, John’s sister. Charlotte was Henslow’s
acknowledged partner even though she had never studied at university.
Camden had heard stories about her jaunts across the countryside dressed
as man. For many years, the naturalist community assumed Henslow had a
twin brother.
Charlotte carried her trademark tarantula, nestled in a green velvet
shawl on her shoulder for warmth. Camden, fascinated by the woman and
the spider, leaned towards the hairy creature for a closer look. Charlotte
turned large grey eyes on Camden, studying him, Camden felt, as she would
a specimen. Their eyes locked. Charlotte, with calm control, broke the spell.
“Don’t get too close,” she warned. “Cedric is my protector”. As if on cue, the
spider shifted and shot a silk thread into Camden’s eye. He shouted and
leapt from his chair.
Several Henslows seated nearby burst into laughter. Charlotte moved
Cedric to her opposite shoulder and patted the chair. “It’s all right. He won’t
bother you any more. I told him you aren’t dangerous.” Camden was sure
this woman didn’t need a protector. He remembered his resolve to keep
powerful women at a distance, but returned to the seat next to Charlotte. He
pulled out his sketch pad, intending to take a few notes, but paused on a half
finished sketch of an unusual specimen he had spotted, by chance, on a walk
the previous week.
Charlotte saw the picture from the corner of her eye and quickly bent
closer to the pad. “That’s a Crucifx Ground Beetle,” she whispered, pointing
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to the black marks that crossed both wings. “Have you seen one?” Camden
nodded, surprised and delighted by the subtle power shift. “Where!”
Charlotte demanded in a low hiss. But the debate host had just stepped on
stage to introduce the dueling lecturers. Charlotte would have to wait for her
answer.
Kirby did not do well in the debate. His idea that the characteristics of
every animal and insect were fixed and could not be altered sounded trite
next to Henslow’s findings that plants and animals adjusted and changed
under different conditions. When the formal debate ended and audience
members stood with questions, they grilled Kirby on the future of his field
and the connections to other branches of science. One man asked whether
Kirby had ever dissected an insect. “No,” Kirby admitted, he was more
interested in the history, habits and instincts of insects and animals.
The results would not be announced for several weeks, but Kirby knew
Henslow would get the position. Camden watched his mentor extend a hand
and graciously congratulate the opponent. “Let me know if there is anything
I can do to assist in your move to Cambridge,” Kirby offered. Henslow took
Kirby’s hand and smiled. This moment of good will would translate into a
lifelong friendship.
Camden stood to congratulate Henslow’s supporters. He turned to
Charlotte, taking care to stay on the side opposite Cedric. He was ready with
an answer to her question about the location of the apparently rare beetle,
but Charlotte was ready too, ready to let Camden know she would not be
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beholden to him for information. “I was mistaken about your sketch,”
Charlotte said. “I believe what you have there is one of the many species of
tiger beetles. They are interesting as fierce predators, but they are
common.” Her eyes dared him to disagree. Camden did not. He would not
invoke the anger of another stormy eyed woman. Camden changed the
subject.
“Do you expect to move to Cambridge with your brother?” he blurted,
realizing immediately that the question was inappropriate. Charlotte did not
blanche. “We are a team, in the field and in the laboratory,” Charlotte
replied, again challenging Camden to response. Camden nodded with
respect, “Your brother is a lucky man.” He saw Charlotte’s reserve soften.
Her full lips suggested a smile but Camden’s chance to draw it out was
interrupted. Kirby stepped between the two, nodded politely to Charlotte,
threw his arm over Camden’s shoulder and pulled him away.
“Camden,” said Kirby, “I want you to meet a man of the future.”
Camden found himself face to face with the dissection enthusiast whose
question had shamed Kirby during the debate. Theodore Trawley was
studying medicine at Cambridge but planned to move beyond human
physiology and prove that all organic elements are anchored to an
underlying order.
“Pythagoras proved thousands of years ago that there is a structure to
which all life adheres. Dissect anything, anything,” Trawly emphasized,
stabbing his finger into the air, “and you will find that structure.” The tall
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blonde gentlemen paused and gazed at the slight young man with unruly
brown curls, waiting for a reply. “It’s an interesting theory,” Camden
stammered, his mind still fixed on Charlotte’s gray eyes. “Are you using a
microscope?” Trawley persisted, pulling Camden into the conversation. “No,
I don’t own one,” Camden said, looking up. He caught sight of Charlotte,
standing just behind Trawley, listening. “But I certainly plan to purchase
one,” Camden added quickly. “Which one do you recommend?”
“Why don’t you stop by my laboratory next week,” said Trawley, his
chest filling, “and you can try the latest models. You won’t believe the
magnifying power of some of the newest lenses. I’m testing a design from
Robert Bate, the premier shop in London. It has a condenser so powerful
that you can see…” Trawley lost Camden again as Charlotte stepped into full
view.
“Well good-bye,” she said, offering her hand. “Your mentor, Mr. Kirby,
is an admirable man. I wish you both the best,” and Camden had his smile.
“Perhaps I’ll see you again, maybe here in Cambridge,” Camden said
hopefully. Charlotte nodded, pulled her hand from his, raised it to make sure
Cedric was in place and covered, and moved towards the rest of her family,
waiting at the door. Suddenly, the prospect of returning to the path his
grandfather suggested, to begin preparation for clerical exams at Cambridge
University, seemed a brilliant idea.
Trawley continued as though Charlotte had not interrupted. “But you
must come next week, because I must begin packing all of my things for
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Paris shortly. I am embarking on a critically important endeavor…”.
Camden pretended to listen as
Trawley explained that he
would join his friend Tertius
Lydgate in Paris. The two
visionaries would work with a
team of scientists, said
Trawley, who were proving
that the secret to
understanding illness lay
outside the boundaries of
conventional medicine (16). Camden tried to absorb the ideas that spilled
out of Trawley. They didn’t fit Camden’s understanding of nature, created by
God, in his own image. Camden excused himself for a little sedation. Fishing
in a pocket he found and lit his trusted pipe.
As Camden’s tenure with Kirby drew to a close, he felt confused about
the world of science. He was more excited than ever about watching ants
build a nest or mapping the stages of a cocoon, but scientific discovery was
moving quickly beyond simple observation. Camden did not like the endless
arguments among the men who gathered in Kirby’s study and often
retreated to a chair near the window to continue a sketch. Later, Camden
would see many of these men become Full Fellows in the Linnean Society,
the London-based association of natural history leaders. He would wonder if
20
16) Trawley is the man who describesLydgate to Farebrother before the newdoctor arrives in Middlemarch (ch. 17).
He is the unseen medical man whoforeshadows Lydgate’s defeat. Trawley,with Farebrother as the lense, warns that“the medical profession was aninevitable system of humbug.” As LilianFurst writes, Lydgate’s “defeat shows thestrength of the entrenched conservativeforces aligned against him.” I wouldargue that Farebrother falls victim to thesame conservative forces, although in hiscase they are moral and social. Hefollows his duty to his family rather thanhis passions.
Furst, Lilian R., Struggling for MedicalReform in Middlemarch, Nineteenth-
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he could have been among them.
When the letter from Camden’s grandfather arrived, reminding him
that it was time to begin university studies, Camden followed the expected
path. He moved to Cambridge to prepare for exams that would establish his
place in the church, perhaps even in his grandfather’s parish. He didn’t care
much about church politics or the controversies that riled some of his
classmates. Camden preferred the drama and risk of whist or billiards.
When he lost money at those tables, he made a few trades in the market for
exotic bugs he had discovered through some of Kirby’s distant associates.
By accident, or so Camden imagined, he renewed ties to the scientific
community at Cambridge University. It happened on a cold and rainy
afternoon. Camden was walking full tilt, head down against the wind that
whipped across Merton Court, when he hit the shoulder of a fellow voyager
and felt prickly fur bush his cheek. Cedric landed on Camden’s ear and
Charlotte stumbled backwards. Camden grabbed her arm to prevent a fall
and she scooped Cedric off Camden just as the spider raise his front legs to
bite. Charlotte nestled the angry beast back where he belonged and
adjusted her hat. “Well, perhaps you are dangerous after all,” she said, her
grey eyes, again, consuming Camden’s.
“I’m so sorry,” Camden stammered more stunned by the sight of
Charlotte than by their collision. They stared, waiting for the other to chart
the direction of the conversation. Charlotte, used to being in control, had
already decided that she wanted to know more about this thoughtful man. “It
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seems,” she said, smiling, “that you are in too much of a hurry to escort me,
but could you direct me to the School of Pythagoras? My brother is hosting a
soiree for students there tonight.” Camden smiled back. He answered by
taking her arm (the one opposite Cedric) and guiding the two, the woman
and her protector, towards the school.
For the rest of that term Camden became a regular guest at Henslow’s
weekly soirees. He felt at home among the curious, uncertain young men
there, most of whom Henslow had taken under his wing. But Camden went
to see Charlotte. They took turns trying to outsmart each other with
specimens under Henslow’s microscope. They sketched the sketched the
flowering stalks and varieties of ferns that would later become Henslow’s
landmark, Catalogue of British Plants, and then forced the other guests to
decide whose drawing was best. They argued, sometimes, when Charlotte
made fun of Camden’s commitment to God as the route of all scientific
discovery. Officially, Camden moved into the final stages of preparing for his
clerical exam. In reality, he was home again, in science. And he was in love.
A week before his exam, Camden was feeding a caterpillar and using
it as the object of a practice speech. It was a speech he hoped to find the
courage to deliver to his grandfather. Camden would explain, with respect,
that he could not become a man of the church. He realized that he could not
be effective or successful in the life his grandfather had lived so well.
Camden was in the middle of the speech when there was a knock at the
door. A page handed Camden an unexpected letter from the parsonage in
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Middlemarch.
Camden carried the letter back to the caterpillar. He waited until it
had finished eating the leaf and then opened the letter. His grandfather was
dead. Camden’s mother said he must arrange to take the exams early and
come home as soon as possible. She would ask that Camden be considered
to replace Vicar Noble so the family would not have to move. Did Camden
have a sermon or two that he could send for review?
The hand holding the letter dropped to the desk. Camden’s eyes
drifted to the window where a
moth was hitting the glass, intent
on getting out. He felt the urge
to open the window and follow
the moth over the ledge. A life he
had been poised to leave behind
was now his only option, indefinitely (17).
For a few days before leaving Cambridge, Camden held out hope that
Charlotte would follow him to Middlemarch. He would make sure she had a
small lab. She would not need to have children right away. His mother and
aunt (who would, of course, live with them) could take care of many of the
house and parish duties. Charlotte cried as Camden began speaking. She
was calm and hardened by the time he finished. How could Camden, she
wondered, imagine her in the life he described?
Ten years later, Camden was in his study, admiring a Bombardier
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(17) Here’s one last twist. Eliot makesFarebrother the vicar of St. Botolph’s, thepatron saint of travelers. InFarebrother’s case we might stretch theimage to wanderers. The St. Botolph’s of Eliot’s day is inCambridge and, according to the churchsite, Darwin’s family members wereparishioners. To bring it home for me,the name Boston comes from “Botolph’s
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beetle that had wandered across his path that morning, even though it did
not belong in Middlemarch. Camden was finding so many beetles that
should not be there of late. It must have something to do with the new
railroad – perhaps these beetles came in on wood used to lay the tracks?
Camden must write to Kirby for guidance. This lovely Bombardier had shot
it’s trademark burning liquid into Camden’s face, but missed his eye, unlike
Cedric, Camden thought with a wry smile.
Camden had adjusted to life without Charlotte. He was a good son,
one of the county’s best preachers and a member of the hospital board. His
mother, aunt and sister could not understand why he didn’t marry. They
were upset about the rumors that Camden frequented the billiard hall in
town and that he was, occasionally, in debt after a late night game of whist.
Camden never revealed the aching passion these indulgences helped
displace.
“Camden,” his mother called, “your new confirmation pupil has
arrived.” The vicar sighed and tried to focus his mind on the duties of the
day. He could return to sketching and cataloging the Bombardier after
lessons, a few visits to ailing parishioners and dinner. Camden stepped into
the living room and caught his breath.
A small girl waited there. Her large grey eyes looked directly into his.
She held out a jar.
Inside was a spider.
Not a tarantula, just a
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(18) Farebrother mentions Mary in a conversation withLydgate in ch. 17. “I prepared her for confirmation, she is afavourite of mine.”
Farebrother’s mother, aunt and sister, as well as Mary’smother hope the two will marry.
Farebrother holds out hope that Mary might chose him overFred when the vicar speaks to Mary on Fred’s behalf in ch.52. He is disappointed.
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regular brown barn spider, but it had already started weaving a web.
“I’m Mary Garth,” said the young girl (18). “I found this while I was
cleaning out the barn today. My father said I should bring it to you. Do you
like it?” Camden looked from the girl to the spider and back again. “I do,”
said the vicar, nodding, “I do.”
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