Little Lord Fauntleroy

“‘Oh! Dearest!’ he said, ‘I should rather not be an earl. None of the boys are earls. Can’t I not be one?’”

Cedric doesn’t want to be special. In this rare instance, he shows a desire to be like other children, who are largely absent from the rest of the novel. Despite being extraordinary, Cedric doesn’t think of himself in this way, just wanting to fit in with his peers. This is a common trope: the extraordinary hero who wants to be normal, but is called on to execute a daunting duty. In doing so, they manifest their extraordinary nature.

“Mr. Hobbs seemed to grow hotter and hotter. He mopped his forehead and his bald spot and breathed hard. He began to see that something very remarkable had happened; but when he looked at the little boy sitting on the cracker-box, with the innocent, anxious expression in his childish eyes, and saw that he was not changed at all, but was simply as he had been the day before, just a handsome, cheerful, brave little fellow in a blue suit and red neck-ribbon, all this information about the nobility bewildered him. He was all the more bewildered because Cedric gave it with such ingenuous simplicity, and plainly without realizing himself how stupendous it was.”

This is a crucial moment for both Cedric and Mr. Hobbs as both deal with the news that Cedric is a lord. Mr. Hobbs’s perspective shows that the lordship doesn’t change Cedric—he still looks like the same little boy. His perspective also highlights Cedric’s innocence and naivete—Cedric, being so young, doesn’t realize how extraordinary the news is.

“His beauty was something unusual. He had a strong, lithe, graceful little body and a manly little face; he held his childish head up, and carried himself with a brave air; he was so like his father that it was really startling; he had his father’s golden hair and his mother’s brown eyes, but there was nothing sorrowful or timid in them. They were innocently fearless eyes; he looked as if he had never feared or doubted anything in his life.”

This physical description of Fauntleroy emphasizes his extraordinariness. As is typical in sentimental novels, his character is exaggerated to the point of being unrealistic—a person without fear or doubt. As such, the character of Fauntleroy stands more as a statement of a fundamental moral imperative—to be kind to others—than it does as a realistic portrait of a little boy.

“I suppose that is the way with the apple-woman near the park. I dare say she is of ancient lin-lenage.”

Burnett uses Cedric’s childish misunderstandings of concepts such as ‘ancient lineage’ to make him more personable. His innocent confidence in his mistaken notions endears him to adults. It also hints that knowledge and intelligence aren’t as important as good will and generosity.

“There could have been nothing more confiding and innocent than the way in which his small lordship told his little story, quoting his friend Dick’s bits of slang in the most candid good faith. He seemed to feel not a shade of a doubt that his elderly companion would be just as interested as he was himself.”

Cedric’s enthusiasm is contagious. More broadly, Cedric makes people feel the way he feels, think the way he thinks. This is what makes him so effective at changing obstinate people such as his grandfather and Mr. Hobbs.

“The old Earl of Dorincourt, sitting in his great, splendid, gloomy library at the castle, gouty and lonely, surrounded by grandeur and luxury, but not really loved by any one, because in all his long life he had never really loved any one but himself; he had been selfish and self-indulgent and arrogant and passionate; he had cared so much for the Earl of Dorincourt and his pleasures that there had been no time for him to think of other people; all his wealth and power, all the benefits from his noble name and high rank, had seemed to him to be things only to be used to amuse and give pleasure to the Earl of Dorincourt; and now that he was an old man, all this excitement and self-indulgence had only brought him ill health and irritability and a dislike of the world, which certainly disliked him. In spite of all his splendor, there was never a more unpopular old nobleman than the Earl of Dorincourt, and there could scarcely have been a more lonely one.”

Despite his wealth and power and devotion to pleasure, Dorincourt is revealed as a miserable, jaded, and lonely old man. This moment of dramatic irony, in which the narrator shows how flawed Dorincourt’s idea of nobility and idea of how to live are while he has yet to realize this himself, highlights Dorincourt’s blindness to his mistaken ways. He’s so attached to the things he thinks matter–money, status, and pleasure–that he can’t see they’re making him miserable.

 “‘I should prefer he should not be told,’ she said to Mr. Havisham. ‘He would not really understand; he would only be shocked and hurt; and I feel sure that his feeling for the Earl will be a more natural and affectionate one if he does not know that his grandfather dislikes me so bitterly. He has never seen hatred or hardness, and it would be a great blow to him to find out that any one could hate me. He is so loving himself, and I am so dear to him! It is better for him that he should not be told until he is much older, and it is far better for the Earl. It would make a barrier between them, even though Ceddie is such a child.’”

Mrs. Errol shows her commitment not to pollute Cedric’s innocence with realities of the adult world. She also shows consideration for the Earl, even though he hates her. This selflessness borders on self-erasure—a picture of what was idealized in women in the 19th century.

“What Cedric saw was a large old man with shaggy white hair and eyebrows, and a nose like an eagle’s beak between his deep, fierce eyes. What the Earl saw was a graceful, childish figure in a black velvet suit, with a lace collar, and with love-locks waving about the handsome, manly little face, whose eyes met his with a look of innocent good fellowship. If the castle was like the palace in a fairy story, it must be owned that little Lord Fauntleroy was himself rather like a small copy of the fairy prince, though he was not at all aware of the fact, and perhaps was rather a sturdy young model of a fairy. But there was a sudden glow of triumph and exultation in the fiery old Earl’s heart as he saw what a strong, beautiful boy this grandson was, and how unhesitatingly he looked up as he stood with his hand on the big dog’s neck. It pleased the grim old noble man that the child should show no shyness or fear, either of the dog or of himself.”

The extreme contrast between Fauntleroy and Dorincourt is represented here by their appearances: Dorincourt is severe whereas Cedric is soft and innocent. Cedric’s looks and manner in this first impression pleasantly surprise Dorincourt, who’d been determined not to like his grandson. This is the first instance since Cedric Sr. of someone breaking through the Earl’s cynical, surly exterior, the first indicator that it’s possible for him to change.

“It must be confessed that Mr. Mordaunt experienced for the moment a curious sensation. Being a man of great thoughtfulness, and having spent so many years on the estate of Dorincourt, knowing the tenantry, rich and poor, the people of the village, honest and industrious, dishonest and lazy, he realized very strongly what power for good or evil would be given in the future to this one small boy standing there, his brown eyes wide open, his hands deep in his pockets; and the thought came to him also that a great deal of power might, perhaps, through the caprice of a proud, self-indulgent old man, be given to him now, and that if his young nature were not a simple and generous one, it might be the worst thing that could happen, not only for others, but for himself.”

The Reverend’s reflection shows just how much Dorincourt’s tenants are subject to his caprice as he voices their powerlessness. His reflection is also a critique of aristocracy embedded in a book that exalts a noble view of it: It is unfair for tenants to be subject to the whims of a ruler and to have no choice over who rules them. For every Fauntleroy there are many Dorincourts.

“‘I think you must be the best person in the world,’ he burst forth at last. ‘You are always doing good, aren’t you?—and thinking about other people. Dearest says that is the best kind of goodness; not to think about yourself, but to think about other people. That is just the way you are, isn’t it?’”

Cedric’s questions are innocent, but have a sense that his grandfather isn’t who he thinks he is, even though he still chooses to believe him. Cedric chooses to give his grandfather the benefit of the doubt, coaxing his grandfather to become the person Cedric says he is.

“Fauntleroy saw again the lovely places where the ferns grew high and the bluebells swayed in the breeze; he saw the deer, standing or lying in the deep grass, turn their large, startled eyes as the carriage passed, and caught glimpses of the brown rabbits as they scurried away. He heard the whir of the partridges and the calls and songs of the birds, and it all seemed even more beautiful to him than before. All his heart was filled with pleasure and happiness in the beauty that was on every side. But the old Earl saw and heard very different things, though he was apparently looking out too. He saw a long life, in which there had been neither generous deeds nor kind thoughts […] there was probably not one person, however much he envied the wealth and stately name and power, and however willing he would have been to possess them, who would for an instant have thought of calling the noble owner ‘good,’ or wishing, as this simple-souled little boy had, to be like him.”

More than any other passage, this one illustrates the deep divide between Fauntleroy and Dorincourt’s lives. Both see the same things, but they have very different experiences. Cedric is all in the present, taking in the beauty of his surroundings; he isn’t concerned by anything. For Dorincourt, the estate only evokes the years he’s wasted on himself and he’s unable to revel in its beauty as Cedric does.

“Cedric stood with the big psalter open in his hands, singing with all his childish might, his face a little uplifted, happily; and as he sang, a long ray of sunshine crept in and, slanting through a golden pane of a stained glass window, brightened the falling hair about his young head. His mother, as she looked at him across the church, felt a thrill pass through her heart, and a prayer rose in it too,—a prayer that the pure, simple happiness of his childish soul might last, and that the strange, great fortune which had fallen to him might bring no wrong or evil with it. There were many soft, anxious thoughts in her tender heart in those new days.” 

This scene in the church evokes the Christian undertones to Cedric’s character. While he’s not explicitly a Christ figure, there are several similarities between their stories. Cedric is described as an extraordinary child who never cries or fusses. He is generous, loving, selfless, and empathetic and he saves the people of Dorincourt, who were previously doomed under the Earl. The ray of sun slanting through the stained glass onto Cedric has the feel of religious significance and heightens the sense that Cedric is no ordinary boy.

“But only be good, dear, only be brave, only be kind and true always, and then you will never hurt any one, so long as you live, and you may help many, and the big world may be better because my little child was born. And that is best of all, Ceddie,—it is better than everything else, that the world should be a little better because a man has lived—even ever so little better, dearest.”

Mrs. Errol espouses the philosophy that drives the novel and that shapes Cedric. The best thing in life, she asserts, is to make life better for other people. Life is more about a way of being than it is about achievement or money.

“‘You see, Higgins,’ broke in the Earl with a fine grim smile, ‘you people have been mistaken in me. Lord Fauntleroy understands me. When you want reliable information on the subject of my character, apply to him. Get into the carriage, Fauntleroy.’ And Fauntleroy jumped in, and the carriage rolled away down the green lane, and even when it turned the corner into the high road, the Earl was still grimly smiling.”

This scene outside the church shows that Dorincourt does in fact care what people think about him, despite claiming otherwise. He doesn’t like being known as a mean man next to his grandson, who’s widely admired. The Earl claims to be misunderstood, essentially feeling victimized by his own choices, and yet he’s showing a tender part of his humanity: the desire to be liked.

“It had not displeased the Earl to find that the mother of his heir had a beautiful young face and looked as much like a lady as if she had been a duchess; and in one way it did not displease him to know that she was popular and beloved by the poor. And yet he was often conscious of a hard, jealous pang when he saw how she filled her child’s heart and how the boy clung to her as his best beloved. The old man would have desired to stand first himself and have no rival.”

As with Cedric, Mrs. Errol first pleases the Earl with her good looks and popularity. However, even though he sees he was wrong to think she was vulgar, he refrains from welcoming her because of his jealousy. The selfish part of his personality is still holding sway, dictating that he shouldn’t have to share with others.

“She said that perhaps it was not so easy to be very rich; that if any one had so many things always, one might sometimes forget that every one else was not so fortunate, and that one who is rich should always be careful and try to remember.”

Cedric relays his mother’s words, unaware that they describe his grandfather. Mrs. Errol refuses to explicitly tell Cedric his grandfather’s true nature but she warns him against his grandfather’s ways in the lessons she teaches him. Cedric takes these lessons to heart and in his naivete he expresses his concern that he’ll be unable to life up to them to his grandfather, the very one who doesn’t live according to them.

“At first he had only been pleased and proud of Cedric’s beauty and bravery, but there was something more than pride in his feeling now. He laughed a grim, dry laugh all to himself sometimes, when he thought how he liked to have the boy near him, how he liked to hear his voice, and how in secret he really wished to be liked and thought well of by his small grandson.”

This marks the first significant change in the Earl. Cedric pleases him at first because he’s handsome and charming—an heir to be proud of. But being around his grandson, Dorincourt starts to value what he thinks of him, maybe the first time in his life that he’s cared what another person thought. This is the first step towards realizing that life must be lived with other people; that being valued by other people is what makes life meaningful.

“The fact was that the strongest power to influence the Earl was his grandson’s perfect confidence in him—the fact that Cedric always believed that his grandfather was going to do what was right and generous. He could not quite make up his mind to let him discover that he had no inclination to be generous at all, and that he wanted his own way on all occasions, whether it was right or wrong. It was such a novelty to be regarded with admiration as a benefactor of the entire human race, and the soul of nobility, that he did not enjoy the idea of looking into the affectionate brown eyes, and saying: ‘I am a violent, selfish old rascal; I never did a generous thing in my life, and I don’t care about Earl’s Court or the poor people.’”

Cedric is the perfect instrument, the only instrument, that can snake through his grandfather’s defenses to change him. Cedric’s admiration feeds Dorincourt’s desire for pleasure—his admiration feels good—but the Earl has enough of a conscience that he feels guilty about deceiving Cedric about his true nature. This leads to Dorincourt starting to become more like his grandson’s image of him, despite himself.

“There was a movement of the curly head on the yellow satin cushion. A soft, long, sleepy sigh came from the parted lips, and the little boy stirred in his sleep, but not at all restlessly or uneasily. Not at all as if his slumber were disturbed by the fact that he was being proved a small impostor and that he was not Lord Fauntleroy at all and never would be the Earl of Dorincourt. He only turned his rosy face more on its side, as if to enable the old man who stared at it so solemnly to see it better.”

At this crucial point in the plot, Mr. Havisham informs Dorincourt that Cedric isn’t in fact the real Lord Fauntleroy. This is the mid-act upset typical of rags-to-riches stories, where the protagonist loses what they’ve gained, only to regain it later, as Cedric does. Cedric’s careless sleep symbolizes both his naivete—he’s unaware of what’s going on around him—and that he doesn’t care whether he’s Earl.

“‘Do you?’ he said. ‘Well, then, I don’t care about the earl part at all. I don’t care whether I’m an earl or not. I thought—you see, I thought the one that was going to be the Earl would have to be your boy, too, and—and I couldn’t be. That was what made me feel so queer.’”

Fauntleroy shows that he values relationships over titles. His concern isn’t that he’ll no longer be an earl, but that he’ll lose his grandfather, despite how much he loves his new life.

“You say you are my eldest son’s wife. If that is true, and if the proof you offer is too much for us, the law is on your side. In that case, your boy is Lord Fauntleroy. The matter will be sifted to the bottom, you may rest assured. If your claims are proved, you will be provided for. I want to see nothing of either you or the child so long as I live. The place will unfortunately have enough of you after my death. You are exactly the kind of person I should have expected my son Bevis to choose.”

Minna is who Dorincourt thought Mrs. Errol was. She is a low-class and mercenary American woman. She and her son Tom are a shadow couple of Mrs. Errol and Cedric: poor, American, and hoping for a better life through the Earl’s title. Dorincourt’s response to her claim sparks questions as to whether he really has changed, or if his change was only brought about by Cedric—as a perfect heir—and his faultless mother.

“‘Perhaps she cares for him as much as I care for Cedric, my lord,’ said little Mrs. Errol. ‘And if she was your eldest son’s wife, her son is Lord Fauntleroy, and mine is not.’”

Mrs. Errol expresses both her selflessness and her desire to do what’s right. She’s unruffled by the loss of Cedric’s title, knowing that it will doubtless be a boon for the other boy and his mother. She refuses to go along with Dorincourt, who’s determined to fight the claim even if it’s legitimate, because she doesn’t think of herself before she thinks of others, as Dorincourt does.

“I can’t say I ever was fond of anything before. I am fond of him. He pleased me from the first. I am an old man, and was tired of my life. He has given me something to live for.”

This marks a crucial juncture for Dorincourt. He’s changed enough that he’s willing to admit he was miserable, that his choices to value money and power over fellowship and generosity had made him unhappy. Cedric is his saving grace, revealing to Dorincourt how to live a meaningful life–by caring about other people.