Problematic Favorites: A Little Princess - Part 4: Introductions and a Note About Ages

[hrj]

Chapter 2 (A French Lesson) serves the primary purpose of introducing a lot of characters. It is useful at this point to begin something of a timeline with character ages, because there is an interesting phenomenon to note later. We have been told at the beginning of the book that Sara is seven. It is unclear whether this is the typical age at which students enter Miss Minchin’s academy, but we are explicitly told that Lottie Legh, at four years old, is “the baby of the school” (and it is later implied that she’s been enrolled at a younger age than usual because her father doesn’t know what else to do with her). Lavinia Herbert (the prototypical “mean girl” of the school) is given as the other end of the age scale, at “nearly thirteen”. The context implies that she is the oldest student, although we’ll see later that she’s still a student quite some years later. Ermengarde is noted later as “about the same age” as Sara, although she seems to be an established student. So we might think that the usual starting age is five or six.

I’m not inclined to put too much weight on the realism of the ages, as given. With the exception of Sara, the students are portrayed as being very static in their maturity, even when the numbers change. Lottie is eternally the immature “baby” of the crowd, always on the verge of an emotional melt-down. And Lavinia is always the student “so grown-up she considers herself above the others” even at a point when it’s odd that she hasn’t aged out of the school yet. And Ermengarde is the eternal side-kick, tagging along with Sara as her foil, but never quite developing on her own. Against this backdrop, Sara matures and ages, but the others are a static set-piece. Given this understanding, I’m going to note occasions when the students’ putative ages strike odd notes against their characterizations, but I’m not going to dwell on it too much.

The chapter starts by listening in on the other students discussing Sara’s arrival and Lavinia taking a strong stand in criticism, not only of Sara’s luxuries, but of any positive opinion voiced of Sara. Lavinia is very obviously jealous of the potential Sara has for ousting her from her position of social prominence, which no doubt owes as much to seniority as to her described habit of enforcing dominance through bullying.

To be somewhat fair, it’s made clear that Miss Minchin is supporting--perhaps even driving--this ouster. Sara is rumored to be the new “show pupil”, not only for her stylish presentation, but for her academic accomplishments. In the previous chapter, Miss Minchin has stated her intention to place Sara in a position of honor when the students go on outings, and here in chapter 2, she places Sara in a prominent seat near her desk. It would be hard to do more to set Sara up for a fall. And perhaps--although we don’t see Miss Minchin’s overt change of heart toward Sara until the end of the chapter--there is already an intent in that direction. Miss Minchin is very prepared to view Sara as spoiled, entitled, and contrary.

But before we see the scene that cements that impression, we have a long interlude with Sara settling in and interacting imaginatively with her new doll, Emily. The purpose here seems to be to firmly establish Sara’s life of the mind, and the scene does that efficiently. Sara is imaginative, is solidly aware of the borders between imagination and reality, and is happy to playfully negotiate them with the adults around her. Mariette (her personal maid--another trigger for jealousy and resentment) has an investment in viewing Sara’s imaginings as amusing and droll. Other adults, not so much. But Mariette’s other function here is to introduce--both to the reader and to other staff at the school--the image of Sara as being “a little princess” in her behavior and manners. Although presented in a positive light, it's easy to see how this could be turned to mockery.

The last major episode in this chapter could have been avoided easily if Miss Minchin had been paying attention to what Captain Crewe told her about Sara’s studies (or if she’d believed what he said, assuming she was paying attention). Crewe clearly indicated that Sara read books in French and German in addition to English, but the entire premise of the unfortunate misunderstanding here is that Miss Minchin jumps to the conclusion that Sara is intended to learn French (hence, the French maid), and so she misinterprets Sara’s attempts to correct this misapprehension.

Miss M. states her understanding of the purpose of the French maid. Sara, knowing that understanding to be false, offers a different interpretation, which is taken for self-indulgence. Miss M. directs Sara to study a basic primer of French vocabulary, and Sara’s discomfiture at going along with this is taken for a Bad Attitude. Because this is all played out in front of the entire school, when the French teacher appears and Sara is able to explain the whole misunderstanding to him in fluent French, Miss M. is embarrassed in public and her authority is undermined. It would take a big person to overlook that and not hold the episode against Sara. And Miss Minchin, though not an out and out villain, is not that big a person. So the chapter ends with a solidification of Miss M’s personal dislike for the student she has determined to set up as the star pupil of her school. And this is an essential motivation for her treatment of Sara later, after the fall.

Comments

[fadethecat.livejournal.com]

It's interesting to me to see that the tension there is set up so early on. I think as a child I read it as proof of villainy--Miss Minchin dislikes Sara already, and is a fake about it!--but as an adult it reads as a very human sort of discomfort on M's part. Her school is built entirely on reputation, and thus it makes sense that, having been given something like a celebrity endorsement, she should hype that up for all it's worth. But on the other hand, there is something very uncomfortable about a particularly clever child whose goodwill you're rather dependent on, even before accidentally setting yourself up for public humiliation by that child. So right from the beginning, the two of them are in a very uncomfortable relationship with each other. And one in which, I think, Miss Minchin feels like she's on the wrong end of the power differential, compared to a small, pampered child.

[hrj.livejournal.com]

I think that reading it as an adult, I have much more sympathy for Miss Minchin that I'd have as a child reader. (I honestly don't remember when I first read it, but I think I was already an adult.) She is having to perform a higher social rank than she comes from and is comfortable with. Her students are expected to learn French as a matter of course (well or badly) but she never learned it and tries to conceal that fact.

We already see that the students are evaluating and testing each others' status. Miss Minchin not only has to convince the parents that she's an appropriate headmistress, but she has to keep the respect of the students. Adult authority is a big thumb on the scales, but it can't be all.

And that seems to be where she fails with Sara: in trying to find that balance, she knows she doesn't have the intellectual chops to earn Sara's respect, so she falls back on blunt authority. And everyone knows that's a sign of weakness.

[katerit.livejournal.com]

What is most embarrassing for Miss Minchin is the fact that she would not listen to Sara and she knows (and realizes her pupils know) the misunderstanding is her fault. She is embarrassed and unable to move past it. I really have no sympathy - I've never liked her, but then as a kid I had an encounter or two like that and as a teacher I dislike such actions on the part of adults in the classroom. The adjective from before - worldly - probably influenced me as it holds the connotation of being practical to the point of being ruthless and unsympathetic to others. Miss M. is certainly cast as a villain the entire time and is not fully rounded - but she is not entirely flat. Still - even Scrooge had a sense of humor.

[hrj.livejournal.com]

I had interactions with adults like her as well. And I think--like Sara--what bothered me most was the refusal of adults to treat me as having equal...validity? maybe? Having it acknowledged that a child could still have valid truths.

For me, what makes Miss Minchin a fully human character is that we're given those clues to why she acts as she does. She isn't just arbitrarily mean. And having sympathy for her doesn't at all mean that I support her actions and attitudes. Just that I can understand them, and see them as coming out of specific personality flaws within the constraints of her situation.

It would be an entirely different story if Miss Minchin were willing and able to be vulnerable in front of a student (much less a whole room full of students). But that's not her story arc.

[katerit.livejournal.com]

We would not have the situation where Sara is forced to choose being a little princess even in dire conditions - and the lovely transformation of her barren attic room would never have been necessary.