Vicars, especially nineteenth century ones.

Often derided, I’m a quiet fan of Victorian vicars, and their  watercolourist daughters.

In remoter nineteenth century communities in colonial Australia the Church of England vicar, and it was most definitely the Church of England then, was the only man of education, with sufficient leisure to pursue his interests.

The latter half of the nineteenth century was a time of great interest in natural history

and it was also common practice for educated men to keep a journal.

Now not every journal keeping vicar was as engaging a writer as Francis Kilvert, but buried in among the tedious records of parish goings on there are gems about the plants and animals found there, and even sometimes about the presence of indigenous people in the area, often the only record we have, as the local settlers wanted all to often to drive the local indigenous people off their land.

And these vicars, often had daughters who were closeted at home, there being no people of sufficient ‘quality’ for them to mix with, who became quite proficient watercolourists and self taught botanists, there being little else for them to do.

So, next time you see a comic vicar in an English comedy show, remember that while often preposterous and pompous, they did have their uses …