Agnes Grey suggests that all too frequently, people practice religion in an insincere way—but when they practice it sincerely, it can be a great comfort in adversity. The novel’s main example of religious insincerity is Mr. Hatfield, the rector at the village parish in Horton, where Agnes lives with the Murray family. Mr. Hatfield uses his elevated social status as rector to socialize with his rich parishioners and terrify his poor parishioners with threats of hell. When he encounters adversity—such as when rich and pretty Rosalie Murray, who has been flirting with him consistently, rejects his proposal of marriage—he is devastated and reacts spitefully, threatening to spread rumors damaging to Rosalie’s reputation if she tells anyone that he proposed.
By contrast, the curate in Horton, Mr. Weston, is a genuinely religious man who spends much of his free time aiding and comforting poor cottage-dwellers in the village. He reacts to his own emotionally devastating event, the death of his mother, by taking comfort in Christian works of mercy. When he is disappointed in love—Agnes, whom he quietly admires, leaves Horton to start a school with her mother—he doesn’t throw a fit like Mr. Hatfield. Instead, he quietly perseveres, gets a new job near to Agnes, courts her, and eventually marries her. The contrast between Mr. Hatfield and Mr. Weston shows that while insincere people like Mr. Hatfield can thrive in religious institutions, only sincere believers like Mr. Weston personal comfort and strength from religious belief.
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Religion Quotes in Agnes Grey
But now and then he gave us a sermon of a different order—what some would call a very good one; but sunless and severe: representing the Deity as a terrible taskmaster, rather than a benevolent father. Yet, as I listened, I felt inclined to think the man was sincere in all he said: he must have changed his views, and become decidedly religious; gloomy and austere, yet still devout. But such illusions were usually dissipated, on coming out of church, by hearing his voice in jocund colloquy with some of the Melthams or Greens, or, perhaps, the Murrays themselves[.]
As for the primroses, I kept two of them in a glass in my room until they were completely withered, and the housemaid threw them out; and the petals of the other I pressed between the leaves of my Bible—I have them still, and mean to keep them always.
I thought of the poor man and his one lamb, and the rich man with his thousand flocks; and I dreaded I knew not what for Mr Weston, independently of my own blighted hopes.
[B]esides my hope in God, my only consolation was in thinking that, though he knew it not, I was more worthy of his love than Rosalie Murray, charming and engaging as she was; for I could appreciate his excellence, which she could not: I would devote my life to the promotion of his happiness; she would destroy his happiness for the momentary gratification of her own vanity.
