She seems to view snobbery as a regrettable fault-a moral failing rather than a symptom of an unjust social organization. What's more, she actually thinks it's something of which "real gentlemen and ladies" are devoid-something to be cured through a proper education. So she ends up being a snob about snobbery. Here's a perfect example: at one point, Miss Murray accuses Agnes's family of being vulgar for writing their letters on large sheets of paper. "I thought you were too much of a lady yourself, Miss Murray," says Agnes, "to talk about the ‘vulgarity' of writing on large sheets of paper." So, in Agnes's eyes, snobbery is a trait of the lower classes rather than the upper? It would appear so. When she is looking for her second job, for instance, her mother remarks that she should look for a position with a titled family rather than with mere wealthy tradesmen. After all, only proper, titled aristocrats truly know how to be kind to the hired help. Agnes also attempts to stand up for the servants at the Bloomfield household, but later condemns them as ungrateful for her efforts. So while she herself tries to avoid snobby behavior, she has nothing against making snobby judgments. This one is probably the most offensive in the book, offered in regards to the servants in the Murray household: "Domestics in general," Agnes tells us, "being ignorant and little accustomed to reason and reflection, are too easily corrupted by the carelessness and bad example of those above them."
But whatever her feelings toward servants, when the book deals with the oppressed and disadvantaged it is, for the most part, compassionate, understanding, and even radical. Agnes deals on several occasions with "the cottagers" (in other words, the poor tenant farmers who live on the Murray estate, do the labor, and pay rent to Agnes's employer). Her depictions of these people are remarkably sympathetic. What's more, Anne makes a real effort to portray them as the intellectual and spiritual equals of her wealthier characters, and doesn't fall back on patronizing remarks about their "simple nature," or anything like that.
You also get the sense that she believes in social reform and justice over mere charity. She appreciates, for instance, how condescending and offensive the behavior of Miss Murray and co. is toward the tenants. The young lady is in the habit, it seems, of dropping by the cottages in order to impress the "simple folk" with her wealth and splendor, occasionally offering them a shiny half-crown or two. Most Victorians would see this as selfless charity, but Anne understands, even if it is left unsaid, that a half-crown is nothing next to what the landed gentry stole from the peasants on a daily basis. After all, the tenants do the entirety of the labor, yet get next to none of the produce. Anne realizes the injustice of this. She also understands the way the clergy acts in the interests of the upper classes. She is unsparingly critical of the nasty Mr. Hatfield-a coward and snob who is entirely in the pocket of the local gentry and who spends much of his time in the pulpit reminding the poor to show obedience to the rich. He is later humiliated by Miss Murray, after whom he lusts, to the horror of the pious Agnes and the delight of readers.
But Agnes Grey is more than a meditation on class. It is also a love story, and it is that aspect of the novel which is least convincing. Not that the romance is unlikely. In fact, it is almost too likely. The conversations between Agnes and Mr. Weston are terribly banal and commonplace-nothing like the conversations between Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester. In these scenes, Anne's commitment to whatever is ordinary and run-of-the-mill starts to wear a little thin. For instance, in the final climactic scene, when Weston finally proposes to Agnes, the first thing she asks is where her mother will stay. It just doesn't make for thrilling romance.
Not that it's supposed to. Agnes Grey is, from first to last, a novel about ordinary people doing ordinary things. That's a level of Realism no later author would to touch. But what's fascinating is that this ordinariness doesn't make the novel dull. Mostly because it's social criticisms are so real. Agnes Grey is not a critique of a dead and forgotten social system. Everything it has to say about class and inequality could easily be applied to our culture today. Whether you like the novel or not, you must admit this: it doesn't deserve to be locked away with Bulwer-Lytton in the museum of forgotten Victorian literature. And Anne, while she may not have been the world's greatest prose stylist, was ahead of her time when it came to portraying real life.
