Little Lord Fauntleroy

Cedric begins unknowingly changing his grandfather in significant ways, exemplifying the trope in sentimental novels that good has the power to affect even the most unlikely change. In the beginning of the book, Dorincourt is a stereotypical grumpy old man, a misanthrope: Haughty, miserable, and alone in his vast estate, he expects the worst of people, even of his grandson and daughter-in-law. This uncharitable view of human nature has led him to focus on himself—the only person he thinks matters—and devote his life to personal pleasure. His wealth and power distracted him from the emotionally empty core of his life while he was young and healthy, but his failing health in old age has revealed that emptiness, rendering him undistracted and unhappy.

Cedric—who in keeping with the conventions of sentimental fiction is a character of pure good—is a ray of life in his grandfather’s gloomy life. However, he doesn’t immediately convert him into a generous, loving, and happy man. At first, it is only Cedric’s looks that sneak him past his grandfather’s determination to find him unlikable: “If Cedric had been a less handsome little fellow, the old man might have taken so strong a dislike to him that he would not have given himself the chance to see his grandson’s finer qualities” (171). With his grandfather, as with Mr. Hobbs, Cedric’s looks act as a Trojan horse for the bettering effects of his character, opening both stiff, grumpy men to his positive influence.

In these first days, Dorincourt’s relationship to his grandson is selfish—Cedric’s handsomeness and charm serve Dorincourt’s pride, as he finally has an heir who he’s proud to show off. When Dorincourt attends church with Fauntleroy, his proximity to his grandson as the townspeople shower Fauntleroy with admiration allows Dorincourt to pretend he’s almost the object of their admiration, a feeling he’s never come close to. In this experience, he gets his first taste of the pleasure of being good. Despite this experience, Dorincourt tries to take the easy way of only appearing to be good in these first days of his relationship with Cedric. He agrees to his grandson’s charitable suggestions—the stay on Higgins’s eviction, the crutches for the crippled boy—to maintain his grandson’s saintly image of him, but he still doesn’t care about the people he’s helping. These jaunts into charity are in keeping with the Earl’s character: He does them not because they’re right, but because it earns him Cedric’s admiration, which makes him feel good. He sticks to his principle of selfish pleasure over everything.

However, in piecemeal fashion, Fauntleroy’s innocent faith in his grandfather’s goodwill begins to truly change the Earl into Cedric’s saintly image of him. After Cedric gives him undue credit for ordering crutches for the crippled boy (it was Cedric’s idea), Dorincourt does something charitable on his own initiative: He commissions a carriage for Mrs. Errol that Cedric can give her as his own gift. When Cedric comes to him in distress about the squalor of Earl’s Court, the Earl has a crisis of conscience. He knew of the squalor and even wished the tenants of Earl’s Court would die, but, confronted by his grandson’s total faith that he will make it right, he feels both ashamed that he has been encouraging Cedric’s mistaken belief in his goodness and ashamed that he did nothing to help the people of Earl’s Court: “as he looked at the small hand on his knee, and from the small hand to the honest, earnest, frank-eyed face, he was actually a little ashamed both of Earl’s Court and himself” (195). For the first time in his life, the Earl feels a responsibility to others: To be the generous grandfather Cedric thinks he is and to be the good landlord he hasn’t been. This marks the start of the Earl’s transformation from a selfish misanthrope to a truly generous person.