Агнес Грей

УДК 
372.8

ББК 
81.2 Англ-93

 
Б88

ISBN 978-5-9925-1187-1

Бронте, Энн.

Б88 
Агнес Грей : Книга для чтения на англий
ском языке. — Санкт-Петербург : КАРО, 2017. — 
320 с. — (Classical Literature).

ISBN 978-5-9925-1187-1.

«Агнес Грей» — первый роман младшей из сестер Бронте, 

Энн. В его основу положены личные переживания и впечатления автора, работавшей гувернанткой в нескольких домах.

Предлагаем вниманию любителей английской литерату
ры XIX века неадаптированный текст романа с комментариями и словарем.

УДК 372.8

ББК 81.2 Англ-93

© КАРО, 2017

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 
crack ing the nut. Whether this be the case with my 
history1 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 

1 Whether this be the case with my history — (уст.)

Так ли дело обстоит с моей историей

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’s­maid, and all the luxuries and elegancies 
of affluence; which to her were little less than the 
necessaries of life. A carriage and a lady’s­maid 
were great conveniences; but, thank heaven, she had 
feet to carry her, and hands to mi nister 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 avail1, 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 

1 of no avail — (разг.) бесполезные

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 tea­party, 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 forte1. He would not run in debt 
(at least, my mother took good care he should 

1 saving was not my father’s forte — (разг.) бережливость была не самой сильной стороной батюшки

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 bounds1, 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 heath­clad hills, or idling under the weeping 
birch (the only considerable tree in the garden), 
talk ing of future happiness to ourselves and our 
parents, of what we would do, and see, and possess; with no firmer foundation for our goodly 
super structure 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; 

1 had better keep within bounds — (разг.) проявляли 

сдержанность (умеренность)

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 seve ral of the crew, and the unfortunate merchant 
himself. I was grieved for him; I was grieved for the 
overthrow of all our air­built 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 myself1; 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 

1 were all of the same mind as myself — (разг.) придерживались того же мнения, что и я

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