Faulknerian Humanism

Faulkner, in The Reivers as elsewhere, conveys most powerfully his sense of astonishment at the irresistible resilience of the human spirit. He shows us again in this last novel his sense of wonder at human endurance and hope, his constantly renewed surprise at the spiritual strength of man who, like the Titans, seems to bounce back with renewed vigor at each apparent overthrow. From the godlike perspective of the writer, the sheer oppressive weight of circumstances seems overwhelming, and he writes in order to convey his astonishment at his own creations. Faulkner demonstrates conclusively in The Reivers...that his world view is neither an optimism nor a pessimism, but a humanism, a comprehensive acceptance of the human condition as a meaningful phenomenon, perhaps even a general delight at the variety and interest of life itself and a recognition that nothing but impossible and overwhelming difficulty could merit the engagement of untiring man...Perhaps the most interesting and even exciting feature of The Reivers as an expression of Faulkner's outlook is his final attempt to describe the ideal humanist. Faulkner does here arrive at something close to a definition, and he does so, not by abstract speculation, but by telling how a man must act. He falls back on the term "gentleman," and it seems as good a term as any.

A gentleman can live through anything. He faces anything. A gentleman accepts the responsibility of his actions and bears the burden of their consequences, even when he did not himself instigate them but only acquiesced to them, didn't say No though he knew he should.

Faulkner's gentleman sounds like Chaucer's knight. Faulkner believed that not only is such a model a possible reality, it is an absolute essential. Man is dependent on his own efforts to be a gentleman both for personal meaning and survival and also for racial purposes and improvement. A gentleman, too, fails, but he does not give up; he suffers, but he still hopes; he makes errors, he sins, but he is never lost. Faulkner sums it all up in a superb metaphor that might stand as a kind of subtitle to the entire body of his work: "A gentleman cries too, but he always washes his face." And the next sentence is "And this is all."

--Joseph Gold, William Faulkner: A Study in Humanism From Metaphor to Discourse, Norman: University of Oklahoma Press (1966), pp. 175; 186-187.