Sara Crewe; Or, What Happened at Miss Minchin's
Sara Crewe; Or, What Happened at Miss Minchin's
The story of Sara Crewe begins in opulence and ends in the coal cellar. Sent to Miss Minchin's Select Seminary for Young Ladies when her wealthy father returns to India, Sara arrives with a wardrobe of silk dresses, a French maid, and the innocent certainty that the world is kind. Then comes the telegram: her father has died, leaving her penniless. The schoolmaster transforms overnight from fawning hostess to cruel taskmistress, stripping Sara of her room, her meals, her status among the other pupils. What remains is a girl who must scrub floors, sleep in the attic, and endure the scorn of those who once envied her. Yet Sara does not break. Her imagination becomes her kingdom, conjuring magic in the mundane, befriending a ragged street performer with quiet generosity, and insisting even in rags that she remains a princess. Burnett's 1888 novel strips away the Victorian pretense that a child's worth can be measured in pounds and shillings, but this is no grim morality tale. Sara's resilience glows, her compassion endures, and the story poses a question its adult characters refuse to ask: what does it really mean to be rich? For anyone who has ever believed that dignity cannot be taken, only surrendered, Sara Crewe remains a small, stubborn triumph.
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“I was thinking," she said. "Beg my pardon immediately," said Miss Minchin. "I will beg your pardon for laughing, if it was rude," said Sara; "but I won't beg your pardon for thinking.””
— Frances Hodgson Burnett
“They know you are stronger than they are, because you are strong enough to hold in your rage and they are not, and they say stupid things they wish they hadn't said afterward. There's nothing so strong as rage, except what makes you hold it in”
— Frances Hodgson Burnett
“It really was a very strange feeling she had about Emily. It arose from her being so desolate. She did not like to own to herself that her only friend, her only companion, could feel and hear nothing. She wanted to believe, or to pretend to believe, that Emily understood and sympathized with her, that she heard her even though she did not speak in answer.””
— Frances Hodgson Burnett
“Sara went to it and sat down. She was a queer child, as I have said before, and quite unlike other children. She seldom cried. She did not cry now. She laid her doll, Emily, across her knees, and put her face down upon her, and her arms around her, and sat there, her little black head resting on the black crape, not saying one word, not making one sound.””
— Frances Hodgson Burnett
“The same day, he took Sara out and bought her a great many beautiful clothes”
— Frances Hodgson Burnett
“وقتی دارند به آدم توهین می کنند هیچ چیز بهتر از سکوت نیست.””
— Frances Hodgson Burnett
“They are all stories. Everything is a story – everything in this world. You are a story – I am a story – Miss Minchin is a story. You can make a story out of anything.””
— Frances Hodgson Burnett
“You don't know that you are saying these things to a princess, and that if I chose I could wave my hand and order you to execution. I only spare you because I am a princess, and you are a poor, stupid, old, vulgar thing, and don't know any better.””
— Frances Hodgson Burnett
“It sounds nicer than it seems in the book," she would say. "I never cared about Mary, Queen of Scots, before, and I always hated the French Revolution, but you make it seem like a story." "It is a story," Sara would answer. "They are all stories. Everything is a story”
— Frances Hodgson Burnett
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