the reluctant vicar

8/3/2019 The Reluctant Vicar

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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.



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.



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.”



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.”



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.



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.”



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.”



“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

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scripture

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nature

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cambridge_University_Press

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scripture

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nature

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cambridge_University_Press



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.



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

10



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:



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,

12



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



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?



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:



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

16



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

17



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

18



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

19



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-



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

21



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

22



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

23

(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



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

24

(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.



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.”

the reluctant vicar

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