Mrs. Murray is bewildered that she would be so daring. "No need to be in such agitation about the matter," she states, "why, it is only in the common course of nature; we all must die sometime... And instead of repining, Miss Grey, be thankful for the privileges you enjoy. There's many a poor clergyman whose family would be plunged into ruin by the event of his death, but you, you see, have influential friends ready to continue their patronage, and to show you every consideration." Agnes, of course, thanks her for her apparent boundless "consideration."
But most of the Murray story revolves around one of the daughters, who is just "coming out," when Agnes arrives and who fulfills a familiar function to Bronte readers-that of the obnoxious, wealthy, pretty woman who tries to steal away the humble, pious governess's one true love. Mr. Rochester is almost won over by such a woman in Jane Eyre, and, in Agnes Grey, the young Miss Murray attempts to steal the heart of Mr. Weston, who we all know is meant for the protagonist.
Jane Eyre and Agnes Grey are, in many ways, very similar characters, as I've already pointed out. And they probably more or less work as stand-ins for their creators. They are both lacking in feminine wiles, which was fairly radical for novels of the time, they are both endearingly strong-willed and independent, and they both encounter this figure: the rich, snobbish, and beautiful object of male desire. Behind it all is some fairly obvious and understandable envy and frustration-the frustration of being dismissed and undervalued because of your appearance, education, wealth, or accomplishments, which we can all understand. But since jealousy and resentment were "wicked" emotions back in the day, both Agnes and Jane must make it clear that they don't envy the obnoxious, wealthy, pretty women, they simply pity them for their impious ways. But we readers know better.
Emotions run high in Agnes Grey whenever Miss Murray comes on the scene, and the sections about her and Agnes's relationship are some of the best-written, funniest, and most poignant in the book. Mostly because Miss Murray is totally unaware of the pain she causes others and remains convinced, to the bitter end, that she and Agnes are the best of friends. She is so used to viewing the governess, the hired help, and everyone else on the lower rungs of society as beneath her, that she never pauses to consider that they might exist for some other purpose than to admire and dote upon her. She's so convinced that the world revolves around herself, that when Agnes sets her eyes on Mr. Weston, she decides to woo him along with everyone else. Not that she is genuinely interested in him. She just can't stand the thought of a governess pursuing a private life.
The novel remains an important piece of literature because of scenes like that. It is a truly heartfelt and damning indictment of snobbery and of the thoughtless, indifferent cruelty of class hierarchy. What's more, it shows a remarkable understanding of what snobbery like that can do to the individual person. But because the novel is sardonic at times, genuinely angry at others, and always critical, it was seen as dangerous, especially coming from a woman. Anne was still masquerading as the male "Acton Bell" when it was published, but since the novel deals with a female protagonist, it still provoked a scandal. Such emotions were deemed impious, especially when directed against social mores. So we come to another problem with the novel-Anne has to make Agnes impeccably moral, even priggish. Only by setting her up as a shining example of virtuous behavior can she go on to satirize high society. Modern readers don't like this. We realize that you can feel anger, resentment, frustration, and still be a good person. 19th-century readers weren't so sure.
So Agnes is forced to become, at times, an absolute prude. Here she describes herself as the Murray children must, she supposes, have seen her: "Miss Grey was a queer creature... She had her own opinions on every subject, and kept steadily by them-very tiresome opinions they often were, as she was always thinking of what was right and what was wrong, and had a strange reverence for matters connected with Religion, and an unaccountable liking to good people." And Miss Grey is indeed a queer creature at times. Everything in her philosophy has to be filtered through a moral platitude, and there is no room in her heart for private emotions. When these do appear, she feels horribly guilty about them. She remarks at one point that it is wicked of her to fall in love with Mr. Weston when she ought to save every last scrap of love in her heart for God. And one of the few chapters dealing with her private life and feelings is headed, "Confessions."
But once we are able to clear away the Victorian reserve and get to the heart of the character, Agnes is genuinely endearing and we always come away rooting for her. She is likable for many reasons. First of all, her compassion for others, extending all the way to small creatures, which seem to have a particularly hard time of things at the hands of the Murrays and Bloomfields. Also, her independent spirit, her concealed irony and wit, and her rejection of class snobbery.
Or at least, we think she rejects snobbery. This point needs to be examined a bit more closely. Governesses, after all, were higher than some on the social ladder. They were deemed more important than domestic servants, for one, and they certainly outranked your average urban proletarian or tenant farmer. Agnes is outraged by the treatment she receives, but does she truly feel that all men and women are created equal, or is she merely convinced that, as a governess with a decent education, she deserves better?
Anne was writing not long after the social upheavals which occurred in Britain following the Great Reform Bill. Workers, farmers, and ordinary people across England were organizing in order to demand political and economic rights. The Luddites and Chartists both date from this era. It also paved the way for later socialist and labor movements. The Brontes, or, at least, Anne and Charlotte (I'm not sure about Emily's politics) were radicals and social reformers. Like other Victorian novelists, such as Dickens, Elizabeth Gaskell, and Charles Reade, they were genuinely on the side of the working classes and wanted to see social justice prevail. These political commitments are probably most obvious in Charlotte's pro-worker novel Shirley, about the Luddite uprisings. But they can also be detected in Agnes Grey.
But Anne was not immune to snobbery. True, she doesn't believe in wealth and money as the most important things in life. In one scene, Agnes's formerly rich mother is offered another shot at the family fortune if she will admit she made a mistake in marrying a poor clergyman, and she valiantly refuses. But Anne (like Charlotte) does seem to have a certain snobbishness about education. She never doubts that educated people are more qualified to make decisions than everyone else, and that if you drop your aitches you also drop any place in decent society.
