The Story of Sara Crewe

" 'Oh, Ermmengarde, of course I care' "

Frances Hodgson Burnett's "A Little Princess" is one of the most fascinating and beautiful tales I have ever read; do not be misapprehended by its seemingly childish appellation: every scene has been wrought to delicately add meaning to the story and brings us to a deep appreciation and understanding of that unique character Sara Crewe whom we follow during her sojourn at Miss Minchin's Select Seminary for Young Ladies, in 1880s London.

For nearly four years Sara Crewe was distinguished as the "show pupil " at Miss Minchin's, a time in which she was materially provided for with the finest extravagances, as she had been accustomed to in India. Having lost his wife during his child's birth, the wealthy Captain Crewe had prodigiously indulged his daughter, affording her a life of luxury. Despite her awareness as to her station, Sara was kind and generous, ever considerate to those less fortunate than herself. She was quick to befriend Ermengarde, a pariah amongst the other pupils because of her academic dullness, Lottie, the spoilt baby of the classroom for whom she became an adoptive mamma, and the ill-treated scullery maid Becky, who had never been shown a drop of kindness in her wretched life. Then, on her eleventh birthday, the fateful news arrived that her father had died, having lost his entire fortune in a speculative investment. Bereft of her only family and almost all her possessions, Sara found herself transformed into a servant at the seminary, reduced from being the privileged pupil to an ill-treated skivvy. Nevertheless, she learnt to bear her hardships and remain a princess on the inside.

As a complement to the book I recommend the 1986 TV-adaptation, which I was gifted recently, soon after reading the novel. I wasn't disappointed, rather, this brilliant adaptation visually brought to life the characters of the story, and realistically recreated the feeling of the epoch as well. The cinematography pictured plainly but effectively the conditions of living in Victorian London, depicting the crowded marketplace and murky lanes littered with paupers and street urchins who spoke cockney and scraped a living off the streets, in stark contrast to the higher society whose children rode in carriages and promenaded in the parks on clear days. And even details such as the houses, the seminary, and the view from the garret window, whence the howling of the cruel winter wind on the rooftops could be heard, were quite as described in the book. As to the screenplay, it followed the book closely, adding new details, leaving out many others, but most importantly, never contradicting the story and nature of the characters as portrayed by Burnett. Thus I find that there is no dilemma of choice when the urge to relive the story of Sara Crewe tugs at our hearts, for what time could be better passed than that in which the perusal of the novel is followed by the contemplation of the movie, or vice-versa?

            The casting of the '86 version was picked to match, as closely as possible, the characters' descriptions in the book. Amelia Shankley was absolutely wonderful as the dark haired, contemplative Sara Crewe: not only did she look like Sara, but interpreted the part with such conviction, as if she were truly living the character, enduring her adversities with the complexity of a myriad of emotions that swelled in her young heart and pictured clearly on her sore-plagued face. When on her own, it would reflect upon her downcast expression as the hopelessness of her forlorn situation struck her day after pitiless day, and the sadness manifested itself in her eyes when she thought of her dear papa. But her eyes lit up immediately when she was approached by Lottie or Ermengarde, or any one she thought a kind soul, partly out of the comfort it gave her, partly because her proud little spirit would refuse to have it otherwise, but mostly because of her consideration towards others' feelings: she knew, because of her own craving for it, what the warmth of a kindly smile could do to kindle and cheer a lonely heart, and thus she afforded them with a conscientious good will.

            Maureen Lipman as the unaffectionate Miss Minchin was excellent as well – I couldn't have pictured a better interpretation. Her authoritative nature, absolute conviction in herself, business-like mind, made her the unchallenged captain of her ship; she was a born leader, and relished conducting her crew with the correctitude she deemed right. She would ceremoniously give a speech to "her young ladies", as on Sara's birthday or before the Christmas dispersal of the pupils, and characteristically clear her throat when effectuating what she considered a rather jocular statement intended for the younger girls, as she did before announcing in an incidental manner her message from Father Christmas. A great touch that I thought went just right with her character.

            My commendations go the rest of the cast as well, and I could go on describing each one, but as the movie rested mostly on the shoulders of these two characters, the performances of whom I was especially captivated by, all I can say is that I wish you share my good fortune in being able to experience for yourself this enchanting adaptation of one of the most inspiring, heart-warming classics.

            Sara Crewe is a singular character, rare as one can imagine, yet close to all of our inner beings; I recognise in my childhood-self her musings as to chance being responsible for who we are, her notions of inanimate objects having feelings of their own ( this caused me to take extra care of certain possessions of mine so as to alleviate any possible suffering on their part), her wistful conceptions of the thoughts of others – strangers she viewed during her daily outdoor errands to whom she gave descriptive names and mentally befriended – a habit I have not yet lost. She was extremely intelligent, haughtily aware of her superiority though she never behaved in a condescending manner which would manifest her superior status – rather, she assumed it as a responsibility. She was ever judgemental of her own actions lest they should hurt another's feelings. A proud little soul, during her tribulations we repeatedly read in the pages of the book how her strong determined mind curbs a fit of pique, or accommodates her bodily wants and sufferings and her emotional grievances through fanciful imaginings of better possibilities, so that destitute as she is she still gives freely from her heart , even if all she has to give are dreams and reveries, as we see in the successive visits she receives from Lottie and Ermengarde in her garret. It is the least a princess can do. She swallows her pride when Guy Clarence (actually Donald) offers her his sixpence out of charity, so convinced is he that it will provide for her forevermore; she gives a beggar girl most of her buns when she herself is weak with hunger, for she sees in her a poor waif – one of the populace – hungrier and colder than herself; she worries about the suffering of the Indian Gentleman nextdoor and prays for his well-being, despite her own forlorn situation. And she wishes for his sake that the father of the Large Family, on his way to Moscow, finds the little lost girl. And her wish came true.

"Through the thoroughfares of London in a cab." "Looking out of the garret window at the rooftops"

Acknowledgements

Pictures on this page from the 1986 London Weekend Television(LWT) production of "A Little Princess" (see credits).

This page would not have been possible without the kindness of Mr Gordon Kearns ( website http://www.dorothyann.net/index.html ) or without the help of Miss Ashley Barner ( website https://www.angelfire.com/pa5/llueve/ ). My gratitude to both of you.

If you would like to discuss the story or would like more stills from the movie, or simply give your comments and suggestions, please e-mail me by clicking here.