An analysis of the juxtaposition of authority and anarchy in Jean Cocteau’s Les Enfants Terribles (1929) and Muriel Spark’s The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie (1961).

Both Jean Cocteau and Muriel Spark are renowned for their crafting of intricate, confined settings in their novels; settings which often trap their characters in peculiar, abnormal worlds with anarchy and authority – where there is a desire to tear down the limitations of culture, but also a desire to rebuild an alternative, but equally oppressive, culture of their own. This motif, although rarely explained plainly if ever at all, is never more prevalent than in Cocteau’s Les Enfants Terribles (1929) and Spark’s The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie (1961). Both novels, and their characters, in particular Elizabeth and Sandy Stranger, operate for - and because of - the culturally defining 'rules'. In The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie the rules - the niche societal roles - are created and imposed by Jean Brodie, a rigid and radical teacher who defines herself solely by what she sees as her prime, and imposes upon her 'set':  her idealistic, flawless notion of what a young woman should be. In Les Enfants Terribles the 'rules' are, in essence, more plainly named, but their source is much more abstract, with no character claiming to be responsible for their existence. In Cocteau's novel, which is primarily set in Cité Monthiers in twentieth-century Paris, the rules are just that, the rules of 'the game': an illusion-laden, self-serving manipulation of perspective. They dictate how the protagonists, brother and Sister Elisabeth and Paul, must live separate from society and also, ultimately, that they must die. 'The game' is an imposed authority but presented as liberty, under the pretence that it is based on free-will. At the centre of both novels is a character who can, and will, defy the rules - betraying the authority of their settings. In Les Enfants Terribles it is Elisabeth who betrays 'the rules' by cheating her way to victory, sacrificing herself in self-abasement to the room, a place where 'the game' is played, by killing herself with a revolver, and denying her dying brother, Paul his victory. The implication being that the previously mentioned rules only become of importance to her when they are in her favour. In Spark's novel, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, the character who is central to betraying the rules is a girl of the ‘Brodie set’, Sandy Stranger, a character who is described as being “just as central and important a character as Jean herself”. Sandy Stranger is, throughout the novel, Jean Brodie's most prized girl; a girl in whom she frequently confides throughout the novel. Sandy was renowned for her small eyes and excellent pronunciation, by the authoritarian, Jean Brodie. Her betrayal takes the form of a sexual relationship Sandy endeavours with Mr. Lloyd, a colleague of Jean Brodie, for whom she, of her own accord, had purposefully groomed, for sexual purposes, another girl of the set, Rose Stanley. Sandy Stranger sheds the bondage of her given role and betrays Miss Jean Brodie's 'rules' by straying over the lines drawn by her authoritarian teacher, and treading into the role set-out by Miss Jean Brodie for Rose Stanley. The betrayal of authority is the climactic conclusion to both novels, with the express commonality of neither Elizabeth nor Sandy Stranger accepting the 'rules' of their, respective, self-contained, subversive, authoritarian worlds. 

We are introduced, immediately in Spark's novel The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, to its eponymous authoritarian figure, from whom stems all rules, dictations and restrictions. Miss Jean Brodie, the unorthodox, charismatic matriarch of Edinburgh's Marcia Blaine School for Girls is known for her untraditional, radical approach to the education of her girls - which is utterly and starkly in contrast with the school’s curriculum. Jean Brodie refers to her pupils as her 'set', a possessive term which is indicative of her domineering authority. These girls - her set-are selected and groomed by Jean Brodie, malleable and mouldable; unlikely, with the correct amount of pressure, to inform the real authorities of Jean Brodie's malpractice. In essence, Jean Brodie lives, or seeks to live, vicariously through her girls - every single one of them. Not one of the girls could ever impress Brodie on her own and, so, only as a set can the girls measure up - each one of them possessing one attribute, characteristic or talent which Brodie can select. All of these girls, reduced to one dimension, are then amalgamated by Brodie into the idealistic young woman who she can then live through vicariously. The idea that Miss Jean Brodie may be inappropriately and intentionally moulding her girls beyond their years appears very early on in the novel: "'I am putting old heads on your young shoulders,’ Miss Brodie had told them at that time, ‘and all my pupils are the crème de la crème'."1 

The desire to compose her own mental, emotional and intellectual prime with the youthful physical prime of her girls is a common mantra of Miss Jean Brodie. This, with its forceful, authoritarian nature and its flare of pretence is made all the more vivid by the recurring reference throughout the novel of Mr. Lloyd's paintings in which he presents the literal scene of Jean Brodie's head atop all of her girls’ bodies - transforming them each into a slightly different, but altogether similar, version of the rigid matriarch. The eerily violent implications of guillotining the girls, and replacing their heads - their brains - containing all of their unique flaws, idiosyncrasies, dreams and perspectives and replaced by the head of Miss Jean Brodie and her unwavering mind-set of a demagogue. Miss Jean Brodie, it is plain, has very little sense, or care, for nuance or for the flaws and foibles of human nature. To her mind, the mis-shaping and malforming of these girls' personalities is only beneficial to them, and has no repercussions. Being at such a formative age, the girls cannot resist Miss Brodie's hooks. They stay embedded in the girl's long after she leaves them, with it being noted by Sparks that the girls "remained unmistakably Brodie" (PMJB, 6), her influence whether it be "literary or political or personal" (PMJB, 128) will always stay with them, having shaped them at such an important time in their lives. Sandy, in particular, is said to be one of the most peculiar, nuanced and thought-out characters, and her relationship with Miss Jean Brodie likewise as complex and intelligent, in all of Spark's work. Named as Miss Jean Brodie's most intimate and confidential relationships amongst the Brodie set, Sandy is, ultimately, the only one of the set who will betray her authoritarian teacher, causing her destruction - professionally and romantically. Brodie, on one occasion, confesses to Sandy her great hopes and belief in her: "Do you know, Sandy dear, all my ambitions are for you and Rose. You have got insight, perhaps not quite spiritual, but you’re a deep one, and Rose has got instinct." (PMJB, 107) Brodie, for right or wrong, puts a great deal of hope into Sandy - that she will become the idealistic woman Jean Brodie desires, and this is what Sandy will ultimately betray in more than one way. 

In Cocteau's Les Enfants Terribles the abstract authority is represented physically through the room, a tangible location which dictates, and controls, all that the participants of the game do and say in their lives out with those walls. Similar to Miss Brodie, the authority of the room is also an educational device. In its rigid, fascist and unwavering interpretation of the outside world - and of human idealism - it dictates how its subordinates should behave, emote and think. Much like Brodie's stark, forceful education - malforming the minds of her girls - the room is a place of altered awareness. Within the room Elizabeth and Paul revert to the juvenile innocence of being absolved of all responsibility; a state of being utterly submissive and free from self-determination. Thus, the game is aptly so-called due to its nature of relieving any, and all, control from its participants. This, however, is starkly juxtaposed against the contents of the game which are reckless and ultimately, lethal. The eponymous ‘enfants’, Elizabeth and Paul, labour throughout the novel - with the contradiction that the game provides them with freedom from the real world, ordinary life, and all of its angsts, pains and miseries but also acknowledge that it is a "prison cell in which they were condemned to live"2. It was, seemingly to the siblings, liberty and imprisonment. Initially, Elizabeth seeks solitude from loss, and Paul seeks the comfort of dependence. In each instance there is, commonly, a deep desire to hide from something devastating. 

One of Brodie's aphorisms, "I don't believe in talking down to children" (PMJB, 45) is with such turns of phrase that she can, and does, portray a liberal and benevolent affection for the girls; sense of care and virtuous integrity. Whether in accordance with the curriculum or not, it is undeniable that Brodie teaches her girls about matters of great importance – for better or worse, putting grandiose ideas in their heads about the world – from philosophy to Italian painters, sex and etiquette, or womanhood and religion. Brodie is informed of the world, if unwavering in her opinions about it, and –as a result – Sandy Stranger is a girl with knowledge and education beyond her years – a virtuous intelligence. Brodie's lessons come, not from what someone else wrote, but from her own experience: 

"I will tell you about my last summer holiday in Egypt... I will tell you about the care of the skin, and of the hands, about the Frenchman I met in the train to Biarritz, and I must tell you about the Italian paintings I saw." (PMJB, 11) 

Jean Brodie, here, is placid and amiable in her demeanour holding promises of grandiose tales. This narrative of encouragement and keenness is scattered throughout the novel – the lovely notion of Brodie's caring voice. She assumed the role of a god, with Sandy Stranger even noting as much: "She thinks she is Providence ... She thinks she is the God of Calvin, the beginning and the End" (PMJB, 120) Like a god, Jean Brodie is capable of, and willing to, lavish her flock with encouragement and rewards. She gives them a purpose and – like the god of Calvin – carves out a special place for her 'favourites', however arbitrarily they may be deemed as such. The authority of Jean Brodie is, to Sandy at times, a comfort, a promise and a home. It was possible for her to thrive in the cut-throat, cruel environment as long as she knew her role and played her part: 

"Sandy looked back at her companions and understood them as a body with Miss Brodie for the head. She perceived herself, the absent Jenny, the ever-blamed Mary, Rose, Eunice, and Monica, all in a frightening little moment, in unified compliance to the destiny of Miss Brodie, as if God had willed them to birth for that purpose" (PMJB, ) 

The grand, religious sentiment of Sandy's words are telling of the nature of her initial relationship with Brodie. In the early stages of the relationship Sandy, like all the other girls of Brodie's set, views her as an omniscient, powerful and controlling figure. An entity capable of both giving life and taking it away; answering the questions they had always thought unaskable; and promising them future's, foreign lands and dashing, romantic people they never knew existed. 

Elizabeth, of Cocteau's novel, likewise finds a home is her authority, a reverence and a contentment; a solitudinous retreat into the vague, fuzzy comfort of having no control or responsibility for over her life, nor that of her brother's. Elizabeth sought out her authority, her god, at the time when her brother and mother were gravely ill; her mother eventually dying. In contrast to Sandy Stranger's prison, Elizabeth designed her own, subconsciously, in order to revert in maturity – whereas Sandy Stranger did not choose her prison, and experienced the opposite effect within: a girl being made into a woman, too soon; as opposed to Elizabeth, a woman choosing to crawl back into childhood. Nonetheless, though, both Elizabeth and Sandy are characters who are on the peripherals of where they should be; they are outsiders - a crucial device used by both Cocteau and Spark to stunt, disfigure and create chaos for their characters’ emotional development as young women. Elizabeth's story begins at 16, where she cared for her now- deceased mother and her now recently ill brother. Her relationship with her Brother can be looked upon as "implicitly incestuous”, however it is believed to be built upon their vivid and mutual interest to their bedroom, the place where the game is played, and the intimacy and peace it brings. The game absorbs them inextricably into a state of complete childish innocence. Both Sandy Stranger and Elizabeth share the same metaphorical journey in their relationship with authority: they are introduced to their authority, then enter a period of distinctly subordinate reverence for their authoritative figure, showing utmost respect and unwavering loyalty to the laws and societal expressions of them. The penultimate stage of the fascist relationship is for the worse. In Sandy's case, it is rational doubt which causes her to deviate, mentally, from her subordinate reverence of Miss Brodie. Initially, Sandy hesitantly accepts Brodie's declarations, and slowly transitions into a teenager who questions the limits of her loyalty to Brodie; her fascination wavers. Sandy begins to see through the pretence and, more importantly, worry about the implications of an omnipotent, petty god – a god like that of Calvin – having such control over girls like her, without question. An example of Miss Jean Brodie's tyrant nature occurs as she tells her girls about her recent trip to Italy – a country she visits in no small part due to her affection for her brutal, fascist leader – and of the paintings she saw: 

"Who is the greatest Italian painter?" "Leonardo da Vinci, Miss Brodie" 

"That is incorrect. The answer is Giotto, he is my favourite." (PMJB, 11) 

In this instance, although the subject matter is not of mortal importance, Miss Brodie displays her lack of objectivity, her lack of nuance and her lack of understanding human nature. In short, she is unempathetic and narcissistic. Miss Brodie's lack of empathy plunges to a sickening low with the introduction of Joyce Emily, an erratic and unstable girl, who – through her very nature – is a threat to Brodie. Brodie had, by this point, already ensured that her influence had "worked itself into their bones" (PMJB, 115) and, as a result, none of the girls in her set were likely to report her uncouth curriculum, politics and practices. Miss Brodie, seeking to protect herself, manages – without much effort – to encourage the unstable girl into joining the Spanish civil war, fighting for the dictator, Francisco Franco. The act was both self-serving and vicarious: it ensured Brodie's peace of mind, knowing that the unreliable girl was out of the frame; and also, it allowed her the vicarious boast of believing that she, in some way, had a hand in the war. In the case of Elizabeth and Les Enfants Terribles the shaken faith – the doubt – is instigated by the arrival of Agatha. The most distinct parable of the game is its hindrance of e