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    Agnes Grey
    Agnes Grey
    Agnes Grey
    Ebook246 pages5 hours

    Agnes Grey

    By Anne Brontë

    3.5/5

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    Anne Brontë's first published novel, Agnes Grey tells the story of one woman's search for love and happiness within the boundaries of pre-Victorian society. Forced by her family’s declining circumstances to find employment, Agnes Grey takes the only position open to her—governess within a wealthy family—and faces hardships that challenge the boundaries of her experience.

    Published under the pseudonym Acton Bell, Agnes Grey is based on Anne Brontë's own time as a governess and her experience with the shallowness of the upper class as well as the oppression and abuse of women in powerless positions.

    HarperPerennial Classics brings great works of literature to life in digital form, upholding the highest standards in ebook production and celebrating reading in all its forms. Look for more titles in the HarperPerennial Classics collection to build your digital library.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateOct 9, 2012
    ISBN9781443414821
    Author

    Anne Brontë

    Anne Brontë (1820-1849) was an English novelist and poet and the youngest of a trio of legendary writers who became known as "the Brontë sisters." Each of the three siblings managed to create novels that would become classics of English literature: Charlotte's "Jane Eyre," Emily's "Wuthering Heights" and Anne's "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall." The youngest of six children born to clergyman Patrick Brontë and his wife Maria, Anne was home-schooled after two of her older sisters died of tuberculosis which they were believed to have acquired while attending the Clergy Daughter's School. The four surviving siblings, Branwell, Emily, Anne and Charlotte, created an imaginary world called "Glass Town," and would each contribute poems, stories and geographical details of this mythical place to help them escape the difficulties and isolation of their childhood and this early, escapist writing would plant the seeds for their later literary success. At the time, the idea of publishing a female author was frowned upon, thus the sisters created a pseudonymous trio of brothers - Currer (Charlotte), Ellis (Emily) and Acton (Anne) Bell - in order to get their books into print. Anne actually completed two full novels during her brief career: "Agnes Grey" and "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall," but the enjoyment of their literary success was short-lived. The family suffered the deaths of Branwell, Emily and Anne in just a few short months in late 1848/early 1949 (the latter two of tuberculosis) and Charlotte herself, while struggling through her first, difficult pregnancy, died in 1854 at the age of thirty-eight. Few families in history have produced as many literary powerhouses as the Brontë sisters and their works have been adapted numerous times for the stage and screen.

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    Reviews for Agnes Grey

    3.5/5

    1,212 ratings80 reviews

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    • 5/5
      Anne is very under appreciated.I like her more realistic style.The book is told in the first person by Agnes. As a governess Agnes is given no real authority to punish her charges. So of course they feel free to disrespect her.
    • 4/5
      (Original Review, 1981-02-06)I read "Agnes Grey" after a visit to the Mosteiros dos Jerónimos, supposing I ought to try the lesser known sister after reading so much of Charlotte's work and of course “Wuthering Heights.” What a wonderful surprise. Anne had me at "...she would rather live in a cottage with Richard Grey than in a palace with any other man in the world." It's a beautiful novel and undeservedly overlooked. The tone is on the surface much less dark, but Anne pulls no punches about women's oppression and the appalling behaviour of the 'noble' families she had the misfortune to encounter in her time as a governess. The dialogue reminds me of Jane Austen in places, exchanges that are gently witty and scathing. Mr. Weston is something of an unassuming romantic interest, but coming to the novel as an adult I rather more appreciate Anne's quietly decent men than the Byronic sociopaths her sisters were obsessed with. For me the novel is more about women. Agnes' relationship with her mother is genuinely touching, imbued with Anne's longing for her own. The final meeting between Agnes and Rosalie juxtaposing their characters and fates, now firmly fixed, is haunting stuff. Anne's heroines are not defined by the men they love, but by their own convictions and resources - how refreshing even in 1981!
    • 4/5
      # 13 of 100 Classics Challenge

      Agnes Grey🍒🍒🍒🍒
      By Anne Bronte
      1847

      Partially influenced by her personal experience as a governess, Anne Bronte takes us into her world of the humble, mistreated and overworked governesses, with horribly undisciplined mean children of the rich.She falls for an impossible man, but eventually finds true love. And happiness.A great classic. My first Anne Bronte and not my last.
    • 4/5
      Anne Bronte delivers a finely detailed account of the depressing trials of a untrained and timid young governess and her ruthless charges.She unfortunately gains little in self confidence as she moves with her mother to teach in their own school at the seaside.Mr. Weston, her concealed love interest, acts in his own secretive manner, as artful as the manipulations Agnes Grey despises in Miss Matilda,yet Agnes does not fault him for his many months of needless silence.His sterling act in her direction is the purchase of the dog, Snap. There is no reason given why Agnes did not purchase and so save the dog from cruelty herself.
    • 3/5
      I looked at several reviews of Agnes Grey before reading it, but they were so varied in opinion I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t find the heroine as insipid as many readers did; although she mostly failed to change the children in her charge she never failed to try to the best of her abilities, including physical means; and remaining polite and ‘in her place’ didn’t mean she lacked strong feelings.Where I felt the novel lacked power was in its romance. The only thing holding the two apart was their inability to meet often. There was nothing like Pride and Prejudice’s Elizabeth and Darcy having to accept their own faults and evolve into better people - Agnes and Mr Weston are both essentially perfect and only require a little leisure time to get to know each other so that doubts about each other’s feelings can be overcome.
    • 3/5
      I am glad I read this. It wasn't terrible but compared to "Tenant" I would never believe it was written by the same woman. It's just rather dull. Agnes is self-righteous and to our modern eyes rather a wimp. Yes her charges are horrible little monsters and a reader can't judge her by our modern standards but "Tenant" has issues which are no longer relevant in it and it's still a great book. So of some interest but flawed. The fact that it has never been filmed probably about sums it up.
    • 4/5
      Although I didn't think this book was as good as Anne Bronte's other novel, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, and it didn't have the feel of a must-read classic like Jane Eyre or Wuthering Heights, there was still a lot to like about Agnes Grey.The plot is simple, plain and linear. It's the story of a young woman in 19th century England who goes out to work as a governess when her family fall on hard times. Unfortunately Tom, Mary Ann and Fanny Bloomfield are three of the most badly-behaved children imaginable. When her short, unhappy time with the Bloomfields comes to an end, Agnes finds another situation with two older pupils, Rosalie and Matilda Murray. This second position is not much better than the first - the Murray girls are selfish and thoughtless and the only thing that makes Agnes's life bearable is her friendship with Mr Weston, the village curate.Agnes Grey has an autobiographical feel because Anne Bronte herself had worked as a governess and was able to draw on her own personal experiences to show how servants were often treated with cruelty and contempt by their employers. I could sympathise with Agnes as I would soon have lost my patience with the spoilt Bloomfield children and the self-centred, inconsiderate Murrays. I also thought it was unfair that the parents expected Agnes to control their children without actually giving her any real authority over them. It was such a difficult position to be in. However, I found it slightly disappointing that Agnes seemed prepared to just accept things the way they were and not do anything to change the situation. The book was more about tolerance and perseverance than about taking action to try to make things better.Another of the book's themes is the importance of morality, virtuousness and goodness, qualities in which the Bloomfield and Murray families seem to be sadly lacking, leading Agnes to feel isolated and miserable. However, I think many readers will find Agnes too self-righteous and superior, so if you prefer your heroines to be flawed and imperfect this probably isn't the book for you! Reading about the day to day life of a governess is not particularly exciting or dramatic, but I still found the book enjoyable and interesting - and at under 200 pages a very quick read compared to many of the other Bronte books.
    • 4/5
      I had to read an ANNE Bronte book after the movie 'Devotion' only describes Charlotte and Emily as geniuses. Why not Anne, too? This could not stand! I had been meaning to read this one for a while anyway. If I were deprived of Charlotte's and Emily's writing, Anne's writing would be all the more appreciated. The story or writing here might not be on the level of Jane Eyre or Wuthering Heights, but I will take what I can get of the Brontes! I know I couldn't write like Anne anyway! Anne seems to overuse the comma here, which is the most irritating this book could be for me. I love the story of Agnes Grey and her perseverance with her job as governess to various children and teens and her perseverance with the disappointments of life overall. The Brontes sure had a handle on the story of the governess. I especially love the appreciation Agnes has for the ocean and her walks (my favorite part!), as I know Anne herself died at the ocean. Now I know how much Anne herself appreciated the ocean and that gives me comfort and reason enough to read the book alone.
    • 4/5
      The book reads much like her sister's books although the subject manner may be less universal. It deals with the British class system and how it leaves many, particularly governesses in an isolated condition.
    • 5/5
      I am a big fan of the Brontes. While Charlotte's Jane Eyre and Emily's Wuthering Heights are deservedly all time classics, Anne's two novels are less well known and comparatively neglected; and Agnes Grey is probably less known than Anne's other novel The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. Agnes Grey is comparatively short and is a semi-autobiographical novel where Anne recounts the eponymous young lady's experiences as a governess to the children of wealthy families. When her father's business ventures fall apart after the sinking of a ship of his merchant business partner, young Agnes goes to work as a governess to earn the family some money, despite discouragement from her family. Her experiences are actually quite hilarious, dealing with spoiled and delinquent children and their oblivious parents who refuse to see any wrong in their offspring, particularly in the case of the Bloomfields. Later she looks after the older daughters of the Murrays, who are also a trial, being self-centred and needy, but with whom she is able eventually to establish a modus vivendi. She also falls in love with a vicar in the Murrays' local village, Mr Weston. This is a lovely and very satisfying novel, in some ways ahead of its time in dealing with "feral" children, as is Wildfell Hall in dealing with domestic abuse. A great read.
    • 3/5
      There are half a dozen recordings of 'Agnes Grey' and I sampled all prior to purchase; the American reader just wasn't going to sound right - but neither did any of others particularly, ranging from old maid, albeit Agnes does come across as such, to just too conventionally middle class, even though she is. So I plumbed for the most popular. A reading is necessarily a performance and thoroughly inhibits, I suspect, any possible further reading of the text, if like me you've not read the book initially. Thus inevitably Agnes comes across in this performance as priggish and judgmental, the younger daughter of a clergyman, who becomes a governesses as she feels that this would enhance her experience of life and that she'd greatly enjoy putting her skills to a practical end. Alas the world that she enters - the gentry, are dissolute, often idle, rude and snobbish and treat Agnes little better than a servant - which is what she is.She holds to her principles largely based on Christian values and her own class prejudices and ultimately her virtue and long suffering is rewarded. 'Tis but a short tale of love and toil and illness, unhappiness and great meanness of spirit, though I did enjoy some of the arch sentence construction, and a genuinely informative novel of country life in mid 19th Century England. By the end of the book I'd accommodated to Virginia Leishman's reading style, but wondered how a younger less knowing narrator might have tipped the story at different and more sympathetic angle.
    • 3/5
      A largely biographical novel, telling the trials and tribulations of a daughter of a clergyman who resorts to being a governess in order to reduce her burden on the family finances. Unfortunately, Agnes is allowed too little authority over her spoilt charges and has too little experience, character and authority in herself to be able to exert what little authority she does have over the brats. And they are uniformly brats who are neglected and over indulged by their parents. It is also a cycle that is difficult to break, with Rosalie Murray looking set to treat her child in the same manner as she was, thus perpetuating the cycle of bad behaviour. Agnes herself is not someone I'd want to spend a great deal of time with. Too innocent to know much of the ways of the world, she is entirely out of her depth for most of the novel. She is also too insipid to do much about it. She always takes the back seat and does little to develop her own character. I accept she's in a difficult situation, the governess sitting uncomfortably between the servants and the family, being a part of neither circle. It leads to a isolating position, despite Agnes' claim (about which she then does nothing) that she is the equal of the ladies and their friends that she has been employed to educate. The other topic this book covers is courtship & marriage. There are two very different end results, and, one suspects, one is supposed to take the message that a good marriage is deserved by the more godly (preachy and pious) person. I, however, take from it that I'm amazed any marriage was ever good, in that they seem to be based on a mere handful of meetings and those barely seem to scratch the surface of the kind of exploratory conversations you'd have on a modern date. Rosalie discovers her husband is not at all what she imagined he would be, and has no skills to manage him. I occasionally complain my husband is not at all romantic, but I did know that before I married him. Not the longest book, and not a difficult read. But it has that 19th century preaching tone about it - you're supposed to take a lesson from it. And so it's unlikely to be one I'll come back to.
    • 3/5
      Agnes Grey by Anne Bronte; (2 1/2*)A clergyman's family falls into difficult financial times and one of the daughters must go into service as a governess. How many times and how many ways have we read this one? To give Bronte her due, she was young at the time she wrote this and she did have some experience of that which she wrote. I have to admit part of the reason I read this is that I was quite curious as to how this sister held up against her sisters and the outcome was 'rather poorly'. But then who can stand up against Jane Eyre or Wuthering Heights? I found Agnes Grey rather predictable and somewhat of a snooze. Anne Bronte does bring some nice bits of writing to the table throughout her novel but I doubt I would have completed the read had it not been that I was taking part in a tutored & group read. I did love the very last part of the novel so the author did score some marks.
    • 1/5
      Agnes is an idiot. And I only made it through about 60% of this very boring book.
    • 3/5
      1001 list book #158.Sweet, short, sappy, romantic, yet somehow satisfying. This would actually be a great read for middle/high schoolers--especially for those kids who are young but read at an advanced level. The 18th century language is not simple to read (not hard either, just different), social history is important, and this book is clean and gentle.Read on Serial Reader.
    • 3/5
      Interesting social commentary, dull to read in some sections. apparently somewhat autobiographical.
    • 4/5
      Shy, retiring Agnes Grey is ill-suited to the role of governess, yet due to her family’s financial problems and the limited job prospects for genteel young women in Victorian England, she is forced to serve in this disagreeable position. The families she works for are caricatures of the haughty and dissolute rich. Agnes always manages to hide her true feelings and carry on. I enjoyed this brief novel even more than I thought I would. Recommended.
    • 4/5
      It's not fair that I'm always grouping "The Brontë Sisters" and comparing their respective works with one another. I'm not the only one who does this, though.At this point, I've now read everything from Emily and Anne, and only Jane Eyre from Charlotte. Stylistically, they're similar, but each has their own distinctive flair. Though Anne is probably the least recognized of the three sisters, I'd put her right up there with Emily.I thought Agnes Grey started particularly strong. In fact, of the Brontë works I've read thus far, this one probably hooked me the fastest. The backstory regarding Agnes's family and the details of her first assignment as governess were very entertaining and evocative.Midway, my attention did wane. The subsequent assignment and all that came with it just didn't hold my attention the same. Despite a stellar start, Agnes Grey is probably the least overall memorable of the stories I've read.I regret that more of Anne's and Emily's work doesn't still exist.
    • 4/5
      A young, middle-class woman in mid-1800s England gets a harsh awakening from her sheltered life when she seeks employment as a governess to two different upper-class families. Mistreated by both the snobby employers and her charges *and* the lower-class servants, she leads a snubbed and lonely life.Slow to start (I'm still not certain what the point of the first third of the novel was, really), but once it gets going, I enjoyed Miss Grey's story. I especially enjoyed the quiet simplicity of the love story bit. It was interesting, too, how Anne tells the story of the governess life in a much different, much more realistic and everyday style than her sister, Charlotte.
    • 4/5
      Even though not a whole lot happens, I quite enjoyed this short novel, as well as the background material included in the edition I read. This is the start of a bit of a Brontë binge, because, well, what better to do during this oddest of springs?
    • 3/5
      This was an enjoyable book to read, but I found the plot to be predictable and the characters seemed stereotyped and flat. The plot is a familiar one. A pastor's family falls into financial troubles and one of the daughters has to go into service as a governess. She works for 2 different families - both of them shallow with spoiled children and of course, they treat Agnes like dirt. She keeps her chin up and endures and since this is a Victorian romance, you can imagine the final outcome. I usually love the Victorian marriage plot stories, but I found Agnes to be too much of a goody two shoes. Unlike some other memorable characters, like Jane Eyre, she lacks spunk and let's people walk all over her. Just add 3 miracles and she could be St. Agnes Grey. Still enjoyable, but not a classic that will stay with me.
    • 3/5
      Anne seems to be the forgotten Bronte, and while I liked this book as a change of pace from the outright melodramas and romances that Charlotte and Emily wrote, it really wasn't up to snuff with my expectations, I guess.
    • 5/5
      a realistic & plain love story. The main character is normal and there isn't anything extravagant about the whole thing. Which makes this book a very nice read, it's a nice change to all the drama filled romance novels you find today.
      It was charming & wonderful.
    • 3/5
      It's one of the Brontes so, of course, there's a level of wonderfulness that's a given. The romance in this story feels like an add-on but the exposure of the hypocrisy of the "upper" classes and the rudeness towards the "lower" classes is wonderful. Jane Eyre is still my favorite but I'm glad I've now read Anne.
    • 3/5
      Plain and rather predictable, but nice.
    • 4/5
      Of all the reviews on Goodreads, reviews of the Brontes puzzle me most. Wuthering Heights is meant to be a romance, relaxation reading etc... And Anne Bronte, who is now certainly my favorite sister, is always a distant third...
      This novel isn't as good as The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, sure. But it's more lovely, full of gentle irony, moral correction, and the promise that somewhere there is at least one person, who is not a member of your family, who is not a complete dip-shit. Like Austen, but more enraged, which is understandable given the facts of the story.
      I've read people who complain that this novel 'tells' too much rather than 'showing,' but given that it's written in the first person, I hardly see how it could 'show' without being insanely obtuse; imagine someone sitting down at a bar to regale you with a tale, except he treats it like a Henry James novel. No thanks. I've read that this is too moralistic. I wonder if the people who write this are the same ones who complain that other novels don't have any sympathetic characters? Come on people! Can you imagine a novel full of sympathetic characters, and then have those sympathetic characters not be pissed off that other people are terrible? Ugh. Insufferable.
    • 4/5
      Anne Bronte's writings bring like in the 1800s to life on the page. Her short descriptive chapters set a fast pace to her vivid writing. This is a small treasure of a novel with semi-biographical experiences is often ignored alongside her sisters more famous novels, Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights but it is not forgotten.
    • 3/5
      Fodder for all romance novelists who followed the Brontes, how many ways can you tell the story of a mousy, governess beset on all sides by poverty, the winds of fate and wicked souls who try, if not her virtue, at least her patience? Yet she victoriously outlasts them all through her basic goodness to win the heart and hand of the right man in the end. Anne Bronte's heroine may be a bit boring, but her wonderfully descriptive passages lift Agnes Grey above the ordinary. Her intense attention to detail and personality are extremely well done, particularly regarding some of the nasty little psychopathic charges Miss Grey had to take in hand and their equally repulsive parents.
    • 4/5
      Many similarities to her sister Charlotte's Villette, though not so powerful. Agnes is more reliable a narrator -- occasionally coy, but transparently so -- though somehow (or perhaps 'therefore') I didn't find her quite as engaging. She's steadfast and determined, but mostly in a very quiet manner, so without the Villette-style revelations that "Oh by the way, I lied about X" there's little real spark. But she is likeable and admirable, and the story a sweet one of what makes a good education and a happy marriage.
    • 3/5
      Anne Bronte is one of the Bronte sisters, all of whom wrote novels. This book is based on Anne's own experiences as a governess. If the details are true to life then she had some horrible brats as students and I do feel sorry for her. However, feeling sorry doesn't mean that I thought the book was good. I don't think Anne had the skill that her older sister, Charlotte, did for writing about characters that made one care what happened to them. Even the eponymous character didn't engage me. I wanted her to, at least once, stand up for herself but she consistently backed down. In one of the most horrible scenes she prevented a cruel boy from torturing a little bird by killing the bird herself. Surely there was some other way to resolve this problem. I could tell almost from the minute the young curate, Edward Weston, was introduced that Agnes would fall in love with him and, somehow, they would marry. Even when both Grey and Weston each leave the place where they met and Agnes was not able to learn where he had gone I knew that somehow they would reconnect. If that's a spoiler I apologize but, as I said, it seemed pretty obvious from the outset.Not my favourite classic by any stretch of the imagination. Give me George Eliot or Elizabeth Gaskell any day.

    Book preview

    Agnes Grey - Anne Brontë

    Chapter I

    The Parsonage

    All true histories contain instruction; though, in some, the treasure may be hard to find, and when found, so trivial in quantity, that the dry, shrivelled kernel scarcely compensates for the trouble of cracking the nut. Whether this be the case with my history or not, I am hardly competent to judge. I sometimes think it might prove useful to some, and entertaining to others; but the world may judge for itself. Shielded by my own obscurity, and by the lapse of years, and a few fictitious names, I do not fear to venture; and will candidly lay before the public what I would not disclose to the most intimate friend.

    My father was a clergyman of the north of England, who was deservedly respected by all who knew him; and, in his younger days, lived pretty comfortably on the joint income of a small incumbency and a snug little property of his own. My mother, who married him against the wishes of her friends, was a squire’s daughter, and a woman of spirit. In vain it was represented to her, that if she became the poor parson’s wife, she must relinquish her carriage and her lady’s maid, and all the luxuries and elegancies of affluence; which to her were little less than the necessaries of life. A carriage and a lady’s maid were great conveniences; but, thank heaven, she had feet to carry her, and hands to minister to her own necessities. An elegant house and spacious grounds were not to be despised; but she would rather live in a cottage with Richard Grey than in a palace with any other man in the world.

    Finding arguments of no avail, her father, at length, told the lovers they might marry if they pleased; but, in so doing, his daughter would forfeit every fraction of her fortune. He expected this would cool the ardour of both; but he was mistaken. My father knew too well my mother’s superior worth not to be sensible that she was a valuable fortune in herself: and if she would but consent to embellish his humble hearth he should be happy to take her on any terms; while she, on her part, would rather labour with her own hands than be divided from the man she loved, whose happiness it would be her joy to make, and who was already one with her in heart and soul. So her fortune went to swell the purse of a wiser sister, who had married a rich nabob; and she, to the wonder and compassionate regret of all who knew her, went to bury herself in the homely village parsonage among the hills of——. And yet, in spite of all this, and in spite of my mother’s high spirit and my father’s whims, I believe you might search all England through, and fail to find a happier couple.

    Of six children, my sister Mary and myself were the only two that survived the perils of infancy and early childhood. I, being the younger by five or six years, was always regarded as the child, and the pet of the family: father, mother, and sister, all combined to spoil me—not by foolish indulgence, to render me fractious and ungovernable, but by ceaseless kindness, to make me too helpless and dependent—too unfit for buffeting with the cares and turmoils of life.

    Mary and I were brought up in the strictest seclusion. My mother, being at once highly accomplished, well informed, and fond of employment, took the whole charge of our education on herself, with the exception of Latin—which my father undertook to teach us—so that we never even went to school; and, as there was no society in the neighbourhood, our only intercourse with the world consisted in a stately tea party, now and then, with the principal farmers and tradespeople of the vicinity (just to avoid being stigmatized as too proud to consort with our neighbours), and an annual visit to our paternal grandfather’s; where himself, our kind grandmamma, a maiden aunt, and two or three elderly ladies and gentlemen, were the only persons we ever saw. Sometimes our mother would amuse us with stories and anecdotes of her younger days, which, while they entertained us amazingly, frequently awoke—in me, at least—a secret wish to see a little more of the world.

    I thought she must have been very happy: but she never seemed to regret past times. My father, however, whose temper was neither tranquil nor cheerful by nature, often unduly vexed himself with thinking of the sacrifices his dear wife had made for him; and troubled his head with revolving endless schemes for the augmentation of his little fortune, for her sake and ours. In vain my mother assured him she was quite satisfied; and if he would but lay by a little for the children, we should all have plenty, both for time present and to come: but saving was not my father’s forte. He would not run in debt (at least, my mother took good care he should not), but while he had money he must spend it: he liked to see his house comfortable, and his wife and daughters well clothed, and well attended; and besides, he was charitably disposed, and liked to give to the poor, according to his means: or, as some might think, beyond them.

    At length, however, a kind friend suggested to him a means of doubling his private property at one stroke; and further increasing it, hereafter, to an untold amount. This friend was a merchant, a man of enterprising spirit and undoubted talent, who was somewhat straitened in his mercantile pursuits for want of capital; but generously proposed to give my father a fair share of his profits, if he would only entrust him with what he could spare; and he thought he might safely promise that whatever sum the latter chose to put into his hands, it should bring him in cent per cent. The small patrimony was speedily sold, and the whole of its price was deposited in the hands of the friendly merchant; who as promptly proceeded to ship his cargo, and prepare for his voyage.

    My father was delighted, so were we all, with our brightening prospects. For the present, it is true, we were reduced to the narrow income of the curacy; but my father seemed to think there was no necessity for scrupulously restricting our expenditure to that; so, with a standing bill at Mr. Jackson’s, another at Smith’s, and a third at Hobson’s, we got along even more comfortably than before: though my mother affirmed we had better keep within bounds, for our prospects of wealth were but precarious, after all; and if my father would only trust everything to her management, he should never feel himself stinted: but he, for once, was incorrigible.

    What happy hours Mary and I have passed while sitting at our work by the fire, or wandering on the heath-clad hills, or idling under the weeping birch (the only considerable tree in the garden), talking of future happiness to ourselves and our parents, of what we would do, and see, and possess; with no firmer foundation for our goodly superstructure than the riches that were expected to flow in upon us from the success of the worthy merchant’s speculations. Our father was nearly as bad as ourselves; only that he affected not to be so much in earnest: expressing his bright hopes and sanguine expectations in jests and playful sallies, that always struck me as being exceedingly witty and pleasant. Our mother laughed with delight to see him so hopeful and happy: but still she feared he was setting his heart too much upon the matter; and once I heard her whisper as she left the room, ‘God grant he be not disappointed! I know not how he would bear it.’

    Disappointed he was; and bitterly, too. It came like a thunderclap on us all, that the vessel which contained our fortune had been wrecked, and gone to the bottom with all its stores, together with several of the crew, and the unfortunate merchant himself. I was grieved for him; I was grieved for the overthrow of all our air-built castles: but, with the elasticity of youth, I soon recovered the shook.

    Though riches had charms, poverty had no terrors for an inexperienced girl like me. Indeed, to say the truth, there was something exhilarating in the idea of being driven to straits, and thrown upon our own resources. I only wished papa, mamma, and Mary were all of the same mind as myself; and then, instead of lamenting past calamities we might all cheerfully set to work to remedy them; and the greater the difficulties, the harder our present privations, the greater should be our cheerfulness to endure the latter, and our vigour to contend against the former.

    Mary did not lament, but she brooded continually over the misfortune, and sank into a state of dejection from which no effort of mine could rouse her. I could not possibly bring her to regard the matter on its bright side as I did: and indeed I was so fearful of being charged with childish frivolity, or stupid insensibility, that I carefully kept most of my bright ideas and cheering notions to myself; well knowing they could not be appreciated.

    My mother thought only of consoling my father, and paying our debts and retrenching our expenditure by every available means; but my father was completely overwhelmed by the calamity: health, strength, and spirits sank beneath the blow, and he never wholly recovered them. In vain my mother strove to cheer him, by appealing to his piety, to his courage, to his affection for herself and us. That very affection was his greatest torment: it was for our sakes he had so ardently longed to increase his fortune—it was our interest that had lent such brightness to his hopes, and that imparted such bitterness to his present distress. He now tormented himself with remorse at having neglected my mother’s advice; which would at least have saved him from the additional burden of debt—he vainly reproached himself for having brought her from the dignity, the ease, the luxury of her former station to toil with him through the cares and toils of poverty. It was gall and wormwood to his soul to see that splendid, highly-accomplished woman, once so courted and admired, transformed into an active managing housewife, with hands and head continually occupied with household labours and household economy. The very willingness with which she performed these duties, the cheerfulness with which she bore her reverses, and the kindness which withheld her from imputing the smallest blame to him, were all perverted by this ingenious self-tormentor into further aggravations of his sufferings. And thus the mind preyed upon the body, and disordered the system of the nerves, and they in turn increased the troubles of the mind, till by action and reaction his health was seriously impaired; and not one of us could convince him that the aspect of our affairs was not half so gloomy, so utterly hopeless, as his morbid imagination represented it to be.

    The useful pony phaeton was sold, together with the stout, well-fed pony—the old favourite that we had fully determined should end its days in peace, and never pass from our hands; the little coach house and stable were let; the servant boy, and the more efficient (being the more expensive) of the two maidservants, were dismissed. Our clothes were mended, turned, and darned to the utmost verge of decency; our food, always plain, was now simplified to an unprecedented degree—except my father’s favourite dishes; our coals and candles were painfully economized—the pair of candles reduced to one, and that most sparingly used; the coals carefully husbanded in the half-empty grate: especially when my father was out on his parish duties, or confined to bed through illness—then we sat with our feet on the fender, scraping the perishing embers together from time to time, and occasionally adding a slight scattering of the dust and fragments of coal, just to keep them alive. As for our carpets, they in time were worn threadbare, and patched and darned even to a greater extent than our garments. To save the expense of a gardener, Mary and I undertook to keep the garden in order; and all the cooking and household work that could not easily be managed by one servant-girl, was done by my mother and sister, with a little occasional help from me: only a little, because, though a woman in my own estimation, I was still a child in theirs; and my mother, like most active, managing women, was not gifted with very active daughters: for this reason—that being so clever and diligent herself, she was never tempted to trust her affairs to a deputy, but, on the contrary, was willing to act and think for others as well as for number one; and whatever was the business in hand, she was apt to think that no one could do it so well as herself: so that whenever I offered to assist her, I received such an answer as—‘No, love, you cannot indeed—there’s nothing here you can do. Go and help your sister, or get her to take a walk with you—tell her she must not sit so much, and stay so constantly in the house as she does—she may well look thin and dejected.’

    ‘Mary, mamma says I’m to help you; or get you to take a walk with me; she says you may well look thin and dejected, if you sit so constantly in the house.’

    ‘Help me you cannot, Agnes; and I cannot go out with you—I have far too much to do.’

    ‘Then let me help you.’

    ‘You cannot, indeed, dear child. Go and practise your music, or play with the kitten.’

    There was always plenty of sewing on hand; but I had not been taught to cut out a single garment, and except plain hemming and seaming, there was little I could do, even in that line; for they both asserted that it was far easier to do the work themselves than to prepare it for me: and besides, they liked better to see me prosecuting my studies, or amusing myself—it was time enough for me to sit bending over my work, like a grave matron, when my favourite little pussy was become a steady old cat. Under such circumstances, although I was not many degrees more useful than the kitten, my idleness was not entirely without excuse.

    Through all our troubles, I never but once heard my mother complain of our want of money. As summer was coming on she observed to Mary and me, ‘What a desirable thing it would be for your papa to spend a few weeks at a watering place. I am convinced the sea air and the change of scene would be of incalculable service to him. But then, you see, there’s no money,’ she added, with a sigh. We both wished exceedingly that the thing might be done, and lamented greatly that it could not. ‘Well, well!’ said she, ‘it’s no use complaining. Possibly something might be done to further the project after all. Mary, you are a beautiful drawer. What do you say to doing a few more pictures in your best style, and getting them framed, with the water-coloured drawings you have already done, and trying to dispose of them to some liberal picture-dealer, who has the sense to discern their merits?’

    ‘Mamma, I should be delighted if you think they could be sold; and for anything worthwhile.’

    ‘It’s worthwhile trying, however, my dear: do you procure the drawings, and I’ll endeavour to find a purchaser.’

    ‘I wish I could do something,’ said I.

    ‘You, Agnes! well, who knows? You draw pretty well, too: if you choose some simple piece for your subject, I daresay you will be able to produce something we shall all be proud to exhibit.’

    ‘But I have another scheme in my head, mamma, and have had long, only I did not like to mention it.’

    ‘Indeed! pray tell us what it is.’

    ‘I should like to be a governess.’

    My mother uttered an exclamation of surprise, and laughed. My sister dropped her work in astonishment, exclaiming, ‘You a governess, Agnes! What can you be dreaming of?’

    ‘Well! I don’t see anything so very extraordinary in it. I do not pretend to be able to instruct great girls; but surely I could teach little ones: and I should like it so much: I am so fond of children. Do let me, mamma!’

    ‘But, my love, you have not learned to take care of yourself yet: and young children require more judgment and experience to manage than elder ones.’

    ‘But, mamma, I am above eighteen, and quite able to take care of myself, and others too. You do not know half the wisdom and prudence I possess, because I have never been tried.’

    ‘Only think,’ said Mary, ‘what would you do in a house full of strangers, without me or mamma to speak and act for you—with a parcel of children, besides yourself, to attend to; and no one to look to for advice? You would not even know what clothes to put on.’

    ‘You think, because I always do as you bid me, I have no judgment of my own: but only try me—that is all I ask—and you shall see what I can do.’

    At that moment my father entered and the subject of our discussion was explained to him.

    ‘What, my little Agnes a governess!’ cried he, and, in spite of his dejection, he laughed at the idea.

    ‘Yes, papa, don’t you say anything against it: I should like it so much; and I am sure I could manage delightfully.’

    ‘But, my darling, we could not spare you.’ And a tear glistened in his eye as he added—‘No, no! afflicted as we are, surely we are not brought to that pass yet.’

    ‘Oh, no!’ said my mother. ‘There is no necessity whatever for such a step; it is merely a whim of her own. So you must hold your tongue, you naughty girl; for, though you are so ready to leave us, you know very well we cannot part with you.’

    I was silenced for that day, and for many succeeding ones; but still I did not wholly relinquish my darling scheme. Mary got her drawing materials, and steadily set to work. I got mine too; but while I drew, I thought of other things. How delightful it would be to be a governess! To go out into the world; to enter upon a new life; to act for myself; to exercise my unused faculties; to try my unknown powers; to earn my own maintenance, and something to comfort and help my father, mother, and sister, besides exonerating them from the provision of my food and clothing; to show papa what his little Agnes could do; to convince mamma and Mary that I was not quite the helpless, thoughtless being they supposed. And then, how charming to be entrusted with the care and education of children! Whatever others said, I felt I was fully competent to the task: the clear remembrance of my own thoughts in early childhood would be a surer guide than the instructions of the most mature adviser. I had but to turn from my little pupils to myself at their age, and I should know, at once, how to win their confidence and affections: how to waken the contrition of the erring; how to embolden the timid and console the afflicted; how to make Virtue practicable, Instruction desirable, and Religion lovely and comprehensible.

    "—Delightful task!

    To teach the young idea how to shoot!"

    To train the tender plants, and watch their buds unfolding day by day! Influenced by so many inducements, I determined still to persevere; though the fear of displeasing my mother, or distressing my father’s feelings, prevented me from resuming the subject for several days. At length, again, I mentioned it to my mother in private; and, with some difficulty, got her to promise to assist me with her endeavours. My father’s reluctant consent was next obtained, and then, though Mary still sighed her disapproval, my dear, kind mother began to

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