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Tools in the carpenter's shop: a study of faulkner's use of the christian myth Evans, James Carl 1971

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TOOLS IN THE CARPENTER'S SHOP: A STUDY OF FAULKNER'S USE OF THE CHRISTIAN MYTH by JAMES CARL EVANS B.A. (Honours), Un i v e r s i t y of Oregon, 1968 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS i n the Department of English We accept this thesis as conforming to the required standard THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA A p r i l , 1971 In p r e s e n t i n g t h i s t h e s i s i n p a r t i a l f u l f i l m e n t o f the r e q u i r e m e n t s f o r an advanced degree at the U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , I a g r e e t h a t t h e L i b r a r y s h a l l make i t f r e e l y a v a i l a b l e f o r r e f e r e n c e and s t u d y . I f u r t h e r agree t h a t p e r m i s s i o n f o r e x t e n s i v e c o p y i n g o f t h i s t h e s i s f o r s c h o l a r l y p u r p o s e s may be g r a n t e d by the Head o f my Department o r by h i s r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s . I t i s u n d e r s t o o d t h a t c o p y i n g o r p u b l i c a t i o n o f t h i s t h e s i s f o r f i n a n c i a l g a i n s h a l l not be a l l o w e d w i t h o u t my w r i t t e n p e r m i s s i o n . Department o f The U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h C o l umbia Vancouver 8, Canada ABSTRACT The thesis describes the consistent thematic use of and the steady a r t i s t i c development i n the C h r i s t i a n myth as i t appears i n William Faulkner's novels. Although I concentrate on the use of B i b l i c a l a l -lusions, other mythical references are examined when they become a part of the pattern described, as i n Soldier's Pay and The Sound and the Fury. A Fable i s examined f i r s t because i t s e x p l i c i t a l l e g o r i c a l use of the myth c l e a r l y indicates the d i r e c t i o n Faulkner takes i n the e a r l i e r stages of his a r t i s t r y . I t presents the fundamental c o n f l i c t between "Authority," which would shape man i n i t s own image, and the corporal-Christ's b e l i e f i n the primacy of the whole being unconstrained by ideology. Such b e l i e f i s "capable of containing a l l of time and a l l of marl' i n one unutterable v i s i o n . In order to emphasize Faulkner's development toward this a r t i c u l a t i o n of the-myth, I analyze his "apprentice works," Soldier's Pay, Mosquitoes, and S a r t o r i s , and then the l a t e r novels i n which the myth i s a primary ele-ment, The Sound and the Fury and L i g h t i n Augus t. Each of these novels re-jections i n s t i t u t i o n s which repress man's self-expression and contains a movement toward the "timeless moment" of a v i s i o n of the e s s e n t i a l wholeness of l i f e . In Soldier's Pay that moment occurs amidst the s t e r i l i t y and fr a g -mentation that society has i n s t i l l e d into Donald Mahon. At the end of the novel, the Negro church service overwhelms Joe G i l l i g a n and Rector Mahon with i t s e f f u s i o n of a perfect conjunction of l i f e ' s elements, "sweat,...sex and death and damnation," and i t enables them to experience th e i r own profound humanity. Mosquitoes juxtaposes the s u p e r f i c i a l i t y and impotence aboard the Nausikaa with F a i r c h i l d ' s comprehension of the same primary unity of "the hackneyed accidents which make up this world." S a r t o r i s portrays Bayard's r e j e c t i o n of l i f e because of his i n a b i l i t y to fuse his family t r a -d i t i o n with the meaninglessness of his own war experiences. Then, fore-shadowing the r e b i r t h motif i n Light i n August, Bayard dies on the day his son is born; but his wife re j e c t s the S a r t o r i s t r a d i t i o n by naming the child Benbow S a r t o r i s , thus u n i t i n g the p l a c i d i t y of her own l i f e as a Benbow with the energy of the S a r t o r i s e s . In The Sound and the Fury and L i g h t i n August, both poles of the con-f l i c t are expressed i n terms of the C h r i s t i a n myth. The Compson narrators a l l have r i g i d perceptual frameworks which are linked with a view of Chris-t i a n i t y as an oppressive ideology. In contrast, Dilsey's experience i n the Easter service i s an expression of the acceptance of the whole man.which a l -lows one to see the i n t e g r i t y of l i f e and i s timeless because i t subsumes a l l of time, "de beginnin 1 en de endin,'" into an instant of perception. Light i n August deals with society's imposition of i t s d e f i n i t i o n s on i n -dividuals and Joe, l i k e C h r i s t , i s martyred because his l i f e is perceived as a threat to i t s pattern of order. Then, i n the conjunction of Joe's death with the b i r t h of Lena's baby, one sees a union of the s u f f e r i n g brought by " e v i l " and the ecstasy of creation. Both poles, n a t i v i t y and c r u c i f i x i o n , are part of the C h r i s t i a n myth; both are part of l i f e i t s e l f and when con-joined, bring a comprehension of the d i v i n i t y of l i f e experienced i n i t s wholeness. Thus, i n Faulkner's works, the C h r i s t i a n myth becomes, i n Mark Schorer's words, "a large c o n t r o l l i n g image...which gives p h i l o s o p h i c a l mean-ing to the fa c t s of ordinary l i f e . " The thematic consistency with which the myth i s used underscores that meaning. Approved: Dr. William F. H a l l , Thesis Adviser TABLE OF CONTENTS Page INTRODUCTION 1 CHAPTER 1 27 CHAPTER II 53 CONCLUSION 116 BIBLIOGRAPHY 124 INTRODUCTION Since the p u b l i c a t i o n of George Marion O'Donnell's seminal study, "Faulkner's Mythology" i n 1939, the conjunction of the two words Faulkner and myth has become a commonplace. The study of the mythical aspects of Faulkner's works has generally moved i n two d i r e c t i o n s , and not always d i -vergently. O'Donnell used the term myth rather loosely to r e f e r to "the Southern social-economic-ethical t r a d i t i o n " i n which there i s a tension between the t r a d i t i o n a l Sartorises and the "modern," a n t i - t r a d i t i o n a l , op-1 p o r t u n i s t i c Snopses. With this essay, O'Donnell heads a long t r a i n of c r i t i c s who speak of Faulkner's work as encompassing the "Southern myth." In The A r t of Faulkner's Novels, Peter Swiggart states: "Faulkner's Yok-napatawpha mythology corresponds very c l o s e l y to the South's romantic 2 legend of a proud societ y compelled to endure humiliating defeat..." George Marion O'Donnell, "Faulkner's Mythology," i n Frederick Hoffman and Olga Vickery, eds., William Faulkner: Three Decades of C r i t i c i s m (New York, 1962), p. 82. The essay o r i g i n a l l y appeared i n The Kenyon Review, I (1939), 285-299. In reading O'Donnell's essay, one f e e l s that he is using the word myth i n a more s i g n i f i c a n t manner. For example, O'Donnell states that Faulkner's characters "are people, i n a c e r t a i n way of l i f e , at a p a r t i c u l a r time, confronted with r e a l circumstances.. .And their hu-manity is not l i m i t e d by their archetypal s i g n i f i c a n c e . Moreover, i n each book, there i s a dramatically c r e d i b l e f i c t i o n which remains...co-herent as action, even though the pattern i s true, i n a larger sense, as myth. In short, Mr. Faulkner's successful work has the same kind, though c e r t a i n l y not the same degree, of general meaning that i s to be found i n Dante's Divina Commedia or i n the E l e c t r a of Sophocles" (p. 88). Unfor-tunately, O'Donnell does not elaborate on what he means here by "myth." I t does seem to be more than j u s t the Southern t r a d i t i o n , however. 2 Peter Swiggart, The A r t of Faulkner's Novels (Austin, 1962), p. 13. In the years between O'Donnell and Swiggart, the c r i t i c a l ground of Faulkner's myth did not l i e fallow. Malcolm Cowley, i n the introduction to The Por-: table Faulkner outlines Faulkner's "mythical kingdom," and, i n f a c t , the book is designed to i l l u s t r a t e the unity of Faulkner's achievement and to be something l i k e a chronological survey of the myth. Also, Robert Penn Warren, i n an essay i n 1946, praised Cowley's work and further elaborated on what he, too, c a l l e d "Faulkner's Mythology." Olga Vickery also f i t s into this category. She e n t i t l e d her chapter on Sartor i s "The Making of Myth," by which she meant that Faulkner, with this novel, began working with Yoknapatawpha County material and that the theme of S a r t o r i s i s , on one l e v e l , the development of a romanti-cized "Southern myth." R. A. Ranald i n an essay published i n 1964 more or less repeats the findings of 0'Donne11. In Ranald's terms, the myth i s that of the a r i s t o c r a t i c Sartorises who have been r e f t of their t r a d i t i o n through th e i r own sins against the land and the Negro. As late as 1968, A l l e n Tate r e i t e r a t e d this concept of Faulkner's mythology: Faulkner's Yoknapatawpha "was more than a legend; i t was a myth..." That myth i s "the South a f f l i c t e d with the curse of slavery--a curse, l i k e that of O r i g i n a l Sin, f o r which no single person i s responsible--had to be destroyed, the good along with the e v i l . . . t h i s old order, i n which the good could not always be salvaged from the bad, was replaced by 3 a new order which was i n many ways worse than the old." So, again, Tate is speaking of the c o n f l i c t between the Sartorises and the Snopses. With the i n t e r p r e t a t i o n , or at least embellishment that Tate gives the Southern myth by recognizing the context of the B i b l i c a l Garden of Eden, we move almost imperceptibly into the other major mode of mythical inquiry i n Faulkner's novels: an examination of the a l l u s i o n s to or pat-terns from other mythologies present i n various Faulkner novels. In such studies, the term "myth" no longer ref e r s to Faulkner's c r e a t i o n of Southern h i s t o r y and t r a d i t i o n i n Yoknapatawpha; rather, i t r e f e r s to the body of B i b l i c a l , c l a s s i c a l and f o l k t r a d i t i o n s and l i t e r a t u r e which 3 A l l e n Tate, "Sanctuary and the Southern Myth," V i r g i n i a Quarterly Review, XLIV (1968), p. 420. describes the actions and c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of the cultures' d e i t i e s and superhuman heroes. With examples of these works, my bibliography abounds, so perhaps an examination of two or three such a r t i c l e s w i l l serve to i l l u s t r a t e the general trend. One of the f i r s t attempts along these lin e s was Carvel C o l l i n s ' "The P a i r i n g of The Sound and the Fury and As I Lay Dying," which f i r s t appeared i n 1957. Un this essay, C o l l i n s is pr i m a r i l y concerned with the a l l u s i o n s to and overtones of the Chris t myth and the Demeter-Persephone myth to indicate c e r t a i n p a r a l l e l s with C h r i s t i n Benjy, Quentin, and Jason, and then proposes that we regard them as three complementary parts of a whole: the i d , the ego, and the super-ego, r e s p e c t i v e l y . According to C o l l i n s , the p a r a l l e l i s one of inversion because i t points out the r e a l lack of C h r i s t - l i k e attitudes i n a l l three men. "To merge the three sons together into one i n this way helps not only to p u l l together the p a r a l l e l with C h r i s t , but to 4 elucidate further the theme of the lack of love." S i m i l a r l y , Robert M. Slabey has put the a l l u s i o n s to C h r i s t i n L i g h t i n August within a larger framework. Rejecting the e f f o r t s of previous c r i t i c s to mold Joe Christmas into a C h r i s t - f i g u r e f Slabey prefers to view the myth i n the novel i n terms of the Adonis myth, i n d i c a t i n g that 4 Carvel C o l l i n s , "The P a i r i n g of The Sound and the Fury and As I Lay Dying',' Un i v e r s i t y of Princeton L i b r a r y Chronicle, XVIII (1957), 116. Re-printed i n Michael Cowan, ed., Twentieth Century Interpretations of 'The  Sound and the Fury',(New York, 1968), 71-75. ~* See, f o r example, Beekman C o t t r e l l , C h r i s t i a n Symbols i n L i g h t i n  August," Modern F i c t i o n Studies, II (1956), 207-213; C. Hugh Holman, "The Unity of Faulkner's Li g h t i n August," PMLA, LXXIII (1958), 155-166' and John W. Hunt, William Faulkner: A r t i n Theological Tension (Syracuse,; 1965), pp. 13-16; and Francis Kunkel, " C h r i s t Symbols i n Faulkner: Prevalence of the Human," Renascence, XVII (1965), 148-156. C h r i s t i s but a type of Adonis. He sees the novel as " i n a sense a night journey, a r i t u a l of death and r e b i r t h , of withdrawal and re-6 turn." The novel, says Slabey, portrays a confrontation with exis-t e n t i a l nothingness, r e s u l t i n g i n the r e c o n c i l i a t i o n of Joe, but not of society, with the t o t a l l i f e process. He a l s o sees i n the novel a " . . . p u r i f i c a t i o n r i t u a l , the expulsion of sins and e v i l s from the com-7 munity." At the same time, however, he says that the people of Jef-ferson " . . . f a i l to understand the rhythm of l i f e . " I t seems to me that a c o n t r a d i c t i o n i s involved here, because p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n a p u r i f i c a t i o n r i t u a l is i n f a c t a recognition of the rhythm of l i f e that Slabey i s describing, that l i f e requires death. Although Slabey does point out I the various elements he sees i n L i g h t i n August, he does not provide the necessary framework i n which a l l of these mythical s t r a i n s can function i n t e g r a l l y . Lennart Bjork's examination of Absalom, Absalom! i n mythical terms i s a rather good i l l u s t r a t i o n of the p a r t i c u l a r p i t f a l l to which this sort of c r i t i c i s m i s prone. Bjork notes that Faulkner's novel has cer-t a i n p a r a l l e l s with the B i b l i c a l story of David and Absalom and with Aeschylus' Agamemnon, and states that "...by working within the Greek, the Hebrew, and the C h r i s t i a n cultures...Faulkner gains a widely embracing 8 referendum for moral behavior." He then goes on, however, to claim; Robert M. Slabey, "Myth and R i t u a l i n L i g h t i n August," Texas Studies  i n L i t e r a t u r e and Language, II (1960), 334. 7 I b i d . , p. 345. g Lennart Bjork, "Ancient Myths and the Moral Framework of Faulkner's L i g h t i n August," American L i t e r a t u r e , XXXV (1963), 202. "Agamemnon, David, Sutpen--different names for the t r a g i c hero, the man who has admirable t r a i t s but who lacks those c r u c i a l q u a l i t i e s that Faulkner paid homage to i n his Nobel Priz e address: 'a soul, a s p i r i t 9 capable of compassion and s a c r i f i c e and endurance. 1" Unfortunately, however, David does not quite f i t into the category established by Bjork. In order to discover David's capacity for compassion, s a c r i -f i c e and endurance, one has but to read the account of his t r i a l s while he was pursued by Saul. One also has to admit that David's actions i n -volving his son Absalom do not e x h i b i t a soulless, compassionless man. David, a f t e r a l l , e x p l i c i t l y commanded that Absalom should not be k i l l e d . I t was David's henchman, Joab, who, acting against David's order, k i l l e d Absalom, and the t i t l e of Faulkner's book comes from David's passionate cry upon learning of the death of Absalom. The r e s t of that passage i s even more revealing: "...would God I had died f o r thee."''"''' Absalom, l i k e Henry, d i d react v i o l e n t l y and k i l l his brother because of the brother's incestuous acts with their s i s t e r , Tamar. But we cannot, i n turn, at-trib u t e this to David's b l i n d attempts to e s t a b l i s h a dynasty. The d i f -ferences between a narrative and a previous myth which i t uses are f r e -quently as important as the s i m i l a r i t i e s . Bjork, for example, also^ states that "Sutpen, and a l l men l i k e him, are condemned no matter what 12 moral code they are measured against.." I assume from the passage quoted e a r l i e r that this statement applies to David. The B i b l i c a l story, 10 9 Ib i d . , p. 204. 11 II Samuel 18.33 I Samuel, chapters 9-31. Bjork, op_. c i t , , p.202. that i s the Hebrew moral code, does not condemn David; i t is David who has been sinned against, both by Absalom and by Joab. Bjork has, without warning his reader, reinterpreted the B i b l i c a l story to f i t his own concept of Absalom, Absalom'.--a somewhat questionable c r i t i c a l procedure. U s e Dusoir Lind suggests that the novel's mythical a l l u s i o n s to the Old Testament and to Greek tragedy create "a grand, tragic v i s i o n of h i s t o r i c dimension...Sutpen f a l l s through innate d e f i c i e n c y of moral insig h t , but the error he commits i s also s o c i a l l y derived and thus i l -l u strates with equal f i n a l i t y the aspirations of a whole c u l t u r e . Events of modern h i s t o r y , here viewed as c l a s s i c tragedy, are elevated through 13 conscious a r t i s t r y to the status of a new myth." Donald Kartiganer connects Sutpen with the myth of the t r i b a l god, which makes the theme of the novel "...no less than the epic one of changing orders, of Rome r i s i n g out of the shambles of Illium...and because the god himself JisJ destroyed by his unwillingness to kneel before necessity, the dynasty of 14 the Old South passes away." So, we are back to the "Southern myth" a r t i c u l a t e d i n terms of another mythological framework. A Fable presents a s l i g h t l y d i f f e r e n t problem because the mythological 15 framework there i s so obvious, and with few exceptions c r i t i c s have ^ U s e Dusoir Lind, "The Design and Meaning of Absalom, Absalom'.," PMLA, LXX (1955), 888. ^ Donald Kartiganer, "The Role of Myth i n Absalom, Absaloml," Modern  F i c t i o n Studies, IX (1963), 368. ^ The major exception here i s Heinrich Straumann whose a r t i c l e , "An American In t e r p r e t a t i o n of Existence: Faulkner's A Fable," o r i g i n a l l y appearing i n Anglia i n 1955 and translated and reprinted i n Three Decades, remains, to my mind, the best work on the novel. found l i t t l e that i s new and less that is worthwhile i n a novel that took Faulkner more than ten years to get from the typewriter to the 16 publishing house. Since Carl Ficken has recently provided a rather 17 good survey of the .[literature on A Fable, I need not reproduce his e f f o r t s here. Rather, I s h a l l only remark that c r i t i c a l exploration of A Fable, on the whole, seems not to have moved much beyond the sur-face of the novel. Most c r i t i c s a r r i v e at the conclusion that the novel with i t s presentation of the second c r u c i f i x i o n of a C h r i s t , is a condemnation "of the unreason, the savagery, the old heroic s l o -18 gans that q u a l i f y mass warfare." On this point, I strongly agree with Delmore Schwartz who has stated that "...from the beginning, i t is taken for granted that the war i s wrong, so that anti-war sentiment 19 i s the s t a r t i n g point, not the conclusion." C r i t i c s who do move be-yond this view vary widely i n their summation of the novel, from Walter Taylor's opinion that the novel i s "A grim n a t u r a l i s t i c p i c t ure of man the f i l t h y c o l l e c t i v e animal...the r e p e l l a n t and nauseous ... dominate the 20 imagination," to Brylowski's statement that the novel presents 16 Michael M i l l g a t e has indicated that Faulkner had the idea for the no-v e l as early as 1942 (see Michael M i l l g a t e , The Achievement of William  Faulkner, p. 41), and the book was not published u n t i l 1954. Also, both the American and English editions bear the rather c r y p t i c p o s t - s c r i p t , "December, 1944/Oxford-New York-Princeton/November, 1953." ^ Carl Ficken,"The C h r i s t Story i n A Fable," M i s s i s s i p p i Quarterly, XXIII (1970), 251-264. 18 E r i c Solomon, "From C h r i s t to Flanders: An Approach to War F i c t i o n , " Texas Studies i n L i t e r a t u r e and Language, XI (1969), 857. 19 Delmore Schwartz, "William Faulkner 1s A Fable," Perspectives U.S.A., no. 10 (1955), 128. 20 Walter Taylor,"William Faulkner: The Faulkner Fable," American Scholar, XXVI (1957), 474. " . . . r i t u a l i s t i c s a c r i f i c e s r e affirming the strength by which man en-21 dures and even p r e v a i l s . " The two c r i t i c s who seem to me to move c l o s e s t to the core of the novel are Frank Turaj and Walter Brylowski who, though working from d i f -ferent c r i t i c a l viewpoints, a r r i v e at s i m i l a r conclusions. Turaj sees i n the novel a modified d i a l e c t i o a l struggle of the " i d e a l i s m of idea vs. 22 idealism of humanity." . The struggle i s between those who operate from the basis of an all-encompassing ideology and those who ground th e i r be-l i e f s i n humanity i t s e l f . The d i a l e c t i c i s modified because there i s no r e a l synthesis; the battle i s continuous. Brylowski i s e s s e n t i a l l y noting the same struggle when he states that "...the c o n f l i c t i s between the 23 forms of society (the m i l i t a r y ) and man s indomitable s p i r i t . . . " But even these two c r i t i c a l frameworks are incomplete not because they do not enumerate a l l of the mythical a l l u s i o n s , but because they do not move as f a r as the novel i t s e l f does; they do not make as e x p l i c i t a statement as the novel allows. In a d d i t i o n to other a r t i c l e s which focus on mythical aspects of 25 p a r t i c u l a r novels, there have been two booklength studies. Richard P. Adams, i n William Faulkner; Myth i n Motion (1968), combines the mythic 9 l Walter Brylowski, Faulkner's Olympian Laugh; Myth i n the Novels (Detroit, 1968), p. 184. 22 Frank Turaj, "The D i a l e c t i c i n Faulkner's A Fable," Texas Studies i n  L i t e r a t u r e and Language, VIII (1966), 94. 23 Brylowski, op_. c i t . , p. 196. I deal with this at greater length further on i n the introduction. 25 See the bibliography at the end of the paper f o r a complete l i s t i n g of such a r t i c l e s . approach with s t y l i s t i c a n a l y s i s , and examines each of Faulkner's works i n terms of the major myths involved as well as the imagery of the "frozen moment." Adams sees the frozen moment as an " a r t i f i c i a l l y f i x e d and i s o l a t e d moment... which has the e f f e c t of compressing a l i f e time into a sing l e event...Motion i s l o s t or stopped, and time i s 26 held s t i l l f o r esthetic contemplation." In his analysis of Faulkner' techniques for arresting»motion, Adams c l a s s i f i e s the use of mythical materials as part of the "contrapuntal method." "These materials bring some of the i r own connotations with them, and represent their own times When we f i n d them i n a modern work, and e s p e c i a l l y when several of them appear side by side, a s t a r t l i n g sense of temporal d i s l o c a t i o n may a r i s the r e s u l t i n g i n t r u s i o n of the B i b l i c a l , the c l a s s i c a l , the feudal, or the American legendary past into the modern s i t u a t i o n contradicts the flow of time and provides an a r t i f i c a l l y s t a t i c moment into which Faulk 27 ner can compress great quantities of l i f e . " I t seems to me that an equally strong case could be made for the opposite view: that the pres ence of the mythical a l l u s i o n s emphasizes the movement of time through the differences between the o r i g i n a l context of the myth and the modern s i t u a t i o n . In other words, as Quentin thinks i n Absalom, Absalom!; Maybe nothing ever happens once and i s f i n -ished. Maybe happen i s never once but l i k e r i p p l e s maybe on water a f t e r the pebble sinks, the r i p p l e s moving on, spreading, the pool at-tached by a narrow umbilical cord to the next pool which the f i r s t pool feeds, has fed, did feed, l e t this second pool contain a d i f f e r e n t 26 Richard P. Adams, William Faulkner; Myth i n Motion (Princeton, 1968), p. 7. 2 7 I b i d , , p. 11. temperature of water, a d i f f e r e n t molecu-l a r i t y of having seen, f e l t , remembered, r e f l e c t i n a d i f f e r e n t tone the i n f i n i t e •unchanging sky, i t doesn't matter: that pebble's watery echo whose f a l l i s did not even see moves across i t s surface too at the o r i g i n a l ripple-space, to the old ineradicable rhythm.28 The presence of the mythological a l l u s i o n s , then would emphasize this " i neradicable rhythm," i n d i c a t i n g the repercussionfof events within the flow of time. Adams' d e s c r i p t i o n of the e f f e c t of the mythical a l l u s i o n s is only part of the t o t a l p i c t u r e , and he depends much too heavily upon that one part. In f a c t , what he does i n his study i s to describe the various mythological a l l u s i o n s he sees i n Faulkner's novels and then restate what I have just quoted. He r e a l l y makes no e f f o r t to see how the myths work i n the structure of the novel, and his examination of them i s c e r t a i n l y not as r i g o r o u s l y presented as Walter Brylowski's, who does much the same thing within a d i f f e r e n t framework. Adams neglects a p r i -mary function which his study could serve; an analysis of the way each mythical structure i s used i n each of the novels i n which i t appears. Walter Brylowski, i n his Faulkner's Olympian Laugh, does more than simply point out the mythic a l l u s i o n s i n the novels. He examines the novels i n the framework of Ernest Cassirer's d i s t i n c t i o n between the "mythic mode" of thought and the "r a t i o n a l - e m p i r i c " mode and traces a "progression through Faulkner's work of his coming to grips with the William Faulkner, Absalom, Absalom! (New York, 1936), p. 213. problem of e v i l i n terms of this mythic mode of thought." He d i s -cusses the myth i n each novel on three l e v e l s ; a l l u s i o n , p l o t , and epistemology of the characters. B a s i c a l l y , Brylowski sees i n Faulkner's novels the constant tension of the p o l a r i t y of the misery and corruption i n the r a t i o n a l world and the transcendence of these preoccupations i n the mythic world. For him, myth i s a fac t o r i n the sense of being a way of perceiving r e a l i t y and a method of transcending ("the way down i s the way out"), only i n the novels of the "great middle period," The Sound  and the Fury, As I Lay Dying, L i g h t i n August and Absalom, Absalom'. In the e a r l i e r novels, according to Brylowski, Faulkner has yet to develop the technique, and i n the l a t e r novels, he abandons the technique f o r "a v i s i o n already r e a l i z e d , the problem of e v i l no longer endangering the sur-30 v i v a l of the ' v e r i t i e s . ' " In the mythic aspects of these p a r t i c u l a r novels, Brylowski sees not s p e c i f i c C h r i s t i a n references, but rather a broader reference to the archetype of the pharmakos, the s a c r i f i c i a l scapegoat who attai n s an i d e n t i t y only through his death. L i g h t i n  August i s the t o t a l expression of the achievement of a harmony r e s u l t i n g from the negative force of Christmas' t r a g i c death being counterbalanced 29 Brylowski, op_. c i t . , p. .15. Brylowski distinguishes the two modes of thought i n the following manner; "When I speak of the mythic mode of thought I s h a l l mean the s p i r i t u a l a c t i v i t y of the i n d i v i d u a l seeking to create a configuration of r e a l i t y , an a c t i v i t y that i s determined by laws other than the rational-empiric...This much w i l l s u f f i c e f o r the characters. However, when we speak of the a r t i s t , we must remember that i n the cre a t i o n of his work he has already divorced himself from the primary q u a l i t y of myth, the immediacy with which the mythic mode seizes upon the e s s e n t i a l unity of the subject-object r e l a t i o n s h i p . The a r t i s t s ' s world of the logos acknowledges at once a removal into the area of pure forms where this primary unity does not e x i s t . " (p. 14) 30 Brylowski, op_. c i t . , p. 14. by the p o s i t i v e mythical elements. The Sound and the Fury and Absa- lom, Absalom', are both p e s s i m i s t i c i n that they do not present a strong enough mythic counterforce to the e v i l i n the novel and to the unredemp-ti v e deaths of Quentin and Charles Bon. The novels do not "...accept the promise inherent i n the C h r i s t i a n myth of the f a l l and the resur-r e c t i o n . On the one hand, Faulkner " i s f u l l y aware of man's p o t e n t i a l for making his l i f e a h e l l ; i t i s the documentation of this a c t i v i t y which 31 constitutes his p e s s i m i s t i c naturalism." However, i t seems to me that Brylowski gets caught up i n his own configuration and, to a c e r t a i n extent, walks into the trap pointed out nearly a decade e a r l i e r by Walter Sla t o f f : To attempt, as some c r i t i c s have, to i n t e r p r e t Faulkner's v i s i o n or even i n d i v i d u a l novels i n terms of any s i n g l e thematic a n t i t h e s i s i s to give his work a s i m p l i c i t y and order i t does not possess...Different antitheses operate at d i f f e r e n t times, or several operate simultane-ously and more or less independently. What we have i n Faulkner's w r i t i n g i s not so much v a r i ^ ations on a theme as a m u l t i p l i c i t y of themes. I think Brylowski has reduced the impact of the mythical references too f a r . However, I w i l l deal with this at greater length when I consider the novels i n d i v i d u a l l y . Although, as I have indicated above, Faulkner's i n d i v i d u a l novels have been rather c a r e f u l l y examined i n terms of th e i r mythic symbolism, we s t i l l lack a d e t a i l e d study of the co n t i n u i t y or development of those symbols. If indeed the mythic patterns are so common to the novels as 31 Brylowski, op_. c i t . , p. 84. Walter J . S l a t o f f , Quest for F a i l u r e ; A Study of William Faulkner (Ithaca, 1960), p. 106. the amount of c r i t i c a l material on the subject would suggest, can we not determine a consistent, symbolic use of those patterns? Obviously, I think we can, for i t is not j u s t the stable set of characters acting i n a p a r t i c u l a r geographical l o c a t i o n which gives Faulkner's canon the unity we so strongly sense i n i t . Along with his Yoknapatawpha County, Faulkner has invented what I have chosen to c a l l his own "symbology." In his study of William Blake's symbolic system, Mark Shorer defines myth as a "large c o n t r o l l i n g image...which gives p h i l o s o p h i c a l meaning to the fa c t s of ordinary l i f e , that i s to say, which has organizing value 33 fo r human experience." He then states that "a mythology i s a more or 34 less a r t i c u l a t e d body of such images." I t i s such a conception of Faulkner's novels which I wish to pursue, for i n constructing his mythol-ogy or " a r t i c u l a t e d body of images" wi t h i n the framework of the quasi-h i s t o r i c a l record of the South, Faulkner repeats words, phrases, scenes, events and even formal s t r u c t u r a l patterns. Each of these i n d i v i d u a l , repeated units has a symbolic value. S i m i l a r l y , Faulkner has incor-porated structures from previous mythologies, which he c a l l e d on a number of occasions " t o o l s i n his lumber room." In using parts of other mythologies, Faulkner imparts a p a r t i c u l a r , i d i o s y n c r a t i c value to them and these values remain f a i r l y constant f o r each " t o o l " i n i t s appearances throughout his novels. The purpose of this paper, then, is to take one major aspect of that symbology and trace i t through Faulkner's works to show how i t functions. I have chosen to work with his use of 33 Mark Schorer, William Blake; The P o l i t i c s of V i s i o n (New York, 1946), p. 27. Idem. the C h r i s t i a n myth f o r two primary reasons: i t is quite dominant i n his work, and i t comes from an e x i s t i n g mythology. The a l l e g o r y of A Fable presents the myth i n i t s most complete and e x p l i c i t form, and i n i t one can r e a d i l y detect a technical and thematic use of the myth which Faulkner developed i n his e a r l i e r works. The e s s e n t i a l elements i n the novel's overt correspondences to the New Testament are e a s i l y i d e n t i f i e d . The corporal was"born i n a cow-35 byre behind a roadside inn," begotten extra-maritally by a man who has supreme power. He l a t e r gathers twelve followers and the thi r t e e n go about the fr o n t l i n e s of World War I preaching pacifism. A mutiny r e s u l t s and the corporal i s sentenced to death. He has a " l a s t supper" with his followers, i s denied by one of them whose name is P i o t r , i s betrayed by another, i s tempted with the g i f t s of power and l i f e to give up his cause, and, at the age of t h i r t y - t h r e e , i s f i n a l l y s l a i n between two crimin a l s , a murderer and a t h i e f . When he dies a barbed wire crown e n c i r l c e s his head. He is taken to a tomb and i s "resurrected" by a bomb bl a s t which blows him out of his grave, and he is then taken to oc-cupy the eminent p o s i t i o n i n the tomb of the Unknown Soldier at L'Arc  de Triomphe. Three women, Marya, Marthe, and Magda, a whore, f i g u r e prominently i n his l i f e . During his ministry at the'- f r o n t l i n e , he provides wine f o r a wedding, money f o r an operation to restore s i g h t to a b l i n d c h i l d , and r e s p i t e f o r a man driven insane- by the war. Further, his C h r i s t - l i k e r o l e i s recognized i n t e r n a l l y i n the novel and e x p l i c i t 3 5 William Faulkner, A Fable (London, [1954] 1955), p. 258. A l l further references are to this e d i t i o n and w i l l appear p a r e n t h e t i c a l l y i n the text. references are made by characters speaking of the corporal. When the runner learns of the corporal's a c t i v i t i e s , his informant says, "Wasn't i t j u s t one before?...Wasn't one enough then to t e l l us the same thing a l l them two thousand years ago...? (p. 64). Later, the runner thinks of the corporal, "His prototype had only man's natural propensity f o r e v i l to contend with; this one faces a l l the scarlet-and-brazen impreg-n a b i l i t y of general s t a f f s " (p. 186). Even the m i l i t a r y establishment teeters on the brink of o f f i c i a l l y recognizing such an i d e n t i t y . In the meeting of the Old General with representatives from the other a l l i e d nations, both the B r i t i s h and American o f f i c e r s have witnessed the death of a man who looks exactly l i k e the corporal. The General then face-t i o u s l y remarks, " . . . a l l that remains f o r us i s to witness his resur-r e c t i o n . . . " (p. 252). Thus, the correspondence betweenithe corporal and C h r i s t i s f i r m l y established, and i t presents problems p r e c i s e l y 1 because i t i s so obvious. The question that remains unanswered i s the question of the s i g n i f i c a n c e of so blatant a " C h r i s t - f i g u r e . " Rephrased, this i s , of course, the fundamental question of the corporal's r e l a t i o n -ship to the r e s t of the novel's material. That r e l a t i o n s h i p i s one of c o n f l i c t between the cor p o r a l - C h r i s t who represents the i n d i v i s i b l e nature of the human " s e l f " which must be accepted i n i t s e s s e n t i a l wholeness and the m i l i t a r y which imposes an external, l i m i t i n g d e f i n i t i o n on the i n d i v i d u a l , thus abstracting the indi v i d u a l ' s being into a manipulable form. The novel's opening scene presents this r e l a t i o n s h i p metaphorically. The f i r s t thing one sees i s the crowd i t s e l f , that "...one vast tongue-less brotherhood of dread and anxiety" (p. 9), which flows, "pressed on by the weight of i t s own converging mass... stopping now because of i t s own massy congested weight...(p. 10). The crowd confronts the symbols of the m i l i t a r y , the three a l l i e d nations' sentries and watches the p e r f e c t l y executed r i t u a l of the r a i s i n g of the three f l a g s pre-c i s e l y at daybreak. The the cavalry, " l e d by a l i g h t tank," parts the crowd, leaving a cordoned path through their midst. This i s an ex-tremely important image because i t portrays the force with which the r i g i d order of the m i l i t a r y imposes i t s w i l l . But the hold i s tenuous because i t has a d i f f i c u l t time e s t a b l i s h i n g the desired order, and only with the force of i t s machinery, the tank, can the m i l i t a r y es-t a b l i s h i t s order. Even then, the cordon of s o l d i e r s could not main-t a i n the order without the t a c i t consent of the people. Then, the f i r s t car containing the supreme commander and two a l l i e d generals speeds along the pathway through the crowd. As the troops pre-sent arms, "...the car seemed to progress on one prolonged crash of i r o n as on i n v i s i b l e wings with s t e e l feathers..." (p. 17). Faulkner's des-c r i p t i o n here makes i t clear that what i s important is not the i n d i v i d u -a l i t y of any of the three generals but the pennon, the symbol of supreme authority and the " r i g i d g l i t t e r of aides," s i g n i f i c a n t of the power main-tained by the very i r o n of the guns clashed i n salute. Above a l l , the d e s c r i p t i o n i s one not of persons but of prescribed r i t u a l and the gener-a l i t y of c l a s s i f i c a t i o n . Then follows the r e p e t i t i o n of the " c u r i o u s l y i d e n t i c a l " l o r r i e s bearing the mutinous regiment. The l a s t l o r r y , containing the corporal and his twelve followers, drives along the path, and of the massed people i n this m i l i t a r y r i t u a l , the corporal alone loudly proclaims his ineffaceable i n d i v i d u a l i t y . The l o r r y i t s e l f , though i d e n t i c a l to the others, seems d i f f e r e n t because i t contains only t h i r t e e n men. The men, though i d e n t i c a l l y dressed, seem d i f f e r e n t because of the i r chains and the i r faces which were not "dazed and spent," but "grave, a t t e n t i v e , watchful" (p. 20). Of the thirteen, four are d i f f e r e n t because they are not French. F i n a l l y , of these four, the corporal himself stands out; ...now the crowd i t s e l f had discerned that the fourt h one was a l i e n s t i l l somehow even to the other three...He stood near the f r o n t , his hands r e s t i n g q u i e t l y on the top r a i l , so that the loop of chain between his wrists and the cor-poral's s t r i p e s on his sleeve were both v i s i b l e , with an a l i e n face l i k e a l l .the other twelve, a mountain peasant's face l i k e the l a s t three, a l i t t l e younger than several of them, looking down at the f l e e i n g sea of eyes and gaped mouths and f i s t s with the same watchfulness as the other twelve, but with neither the bafflement not the concern--a face merely interested, a t t e n t i v e , and calm, with something else i n i t which none of the others had; a compre-hension, understanding, u t t e r l y free of com-passion, as i f he had already anticipated without censure or p i t y the uproar which rose and paced and followed the l o r r y . . . ( p . 21). The corporal i s thus singled out because his very being announces his selfhood as the pennon of the f i r s t car announced the rank of the man i t c a r r i e d . The corporal faces the crowd unafraid, neither wanting nor needing the protection of anonymity. The supreme general stands out be-cause of h i s - rank, his c l a s s i f i c a t i o n i n the m i l i t a r y r i t u a l ; the cor-pora l stands out because his act ions and hi s express ion declare that he i s an i n d i v i d u a l . With the same gaze that the crowd remarked, the corpora l looks at the supreme commander and the terms of Fau lkner ' s d e s c r i p t i o n a l t e r : . . . the. peasant 's face above the c o r p o r a l ' s chev-rons and the shackled wr i s t s i n the speeding l o r -r y , and the gray inscrutab le face above the stars of supreme rank and the br ight ribbons of honour and g lory on the Hotel steps looking at each other across the f l e e i n g i n s t a n t . . . t h e o ld gen-era l i s s imo turned, his two confreres turning wi th him, f l a n k i n g him i n r i g i d p r o t o c o l ; the three sentr ie s clashed and stamped to present arms as the limber and g l i t t e r i n g young aide sprang andopened the door. (p. 21). The confronta t ion i s presented i n the abs t rac t , impersonal terms which the m i l i t a r y can handle. The shackles and chevrons of an accused cor-p o r a l face the s tars and ribbons of the army's highest o f f i c e r . This i s the realm of epistemology, and we have witnessed the confronta t ion of two opposing modes of percept ion . The general can only represent that most r i g i d of s o c i a l s t ruc ture s , the m i l i t a r y . The terms of i t s per-ceptions must always be abs t ract c l a s s i f i c a t i o n s which do not denote an i n d i v i d u a l but the place i n the " r i g i d p r o t o c o l " which that i n d i v i d u a l represents . In such a system, the symbols and t i t l e s themselves assume more importance than the i r wearer. By his a c t i o n s , the corpora l demands to be seen i n his humanity, his se l fhood. By d e l i b e r a t e l y and methodica l ly going against the d ic ta te s of the m i l i t a r y , the corpora l demands that others recognize h i s i n d i v i d u a l w i l l to ac t , to form his own s e l f - c o n -cept which i s outside the domain of the imposed m i l i t a r y structure and which cannot be rendered i n abstractions. This is the c e n t r a l c o n f l i c t i n the novel and each segment of i t s multiple p l o t turns on i t . Throughout the novel, the m i l i t a r y way of l i f e c o n s i s t e n t l y involves a process which works against i n d i v i d u a t i o n to produce the perfect m i l i -tary specimen bereft of a l l i d e n t i t y save his symbols of rank and achieve-ment within the system. The m i l i t a r y , however, i s but part of a "design vast i n scope" which has a c t u a l l y planned the war; ...the Prime Ministers and Premiers and Sec-r e t a r i e s .. .and the modest unsung omnipotent ones who were the p r i e s t s of simple money... p o l i t i c i a n s , lobbyists...ordained ministers of churches and a l l the other accredited t r a v e l l i n g representatives of the vast s o l -vent organizations...which c o n t r o l by co-ercion or c a j o l e r y man's morals and actions and a l l his mass-value f o r a f f i r m a t i o n or n e g a t i o n — a l l that vast powerful ter r o r -i n s p i r i n g representation which...comes i n -deed into i t s own i n war, f i n d i n g i t s true apotheosis then, i n ir o n conclave now de-creeing f o r half the earth a design vast i n i t s i n t e n t i o n to demolish a f r o n t i e r and vaster s t i l l i n i t s furious i n t e n t i o n to o b l i t e r a t e a people...(pp. 209-210). I t i s this array of i n e r t i a - f i l l e d forces f o r the o b l i t e r a t i o n of the i n -d i v i d u a l that the corporal and his likenesses, S u t t e r f i e l d and the B r i t i s h runner, oppose. 36 S u t t e r f i e l d , who i s not an "ordained minister," i s analogous to the corporal, and both carry the same almost i n a r t i c u l a t e message which i s a witness not to God but to man. S u t t e r f i e l d ' s message i s simply one of acceptance of man as he i s , perception of man i n his unity: See pages 163 and 180. E v i l i s a part of man, e v i l and s i n and cowardice, the same as repentance and being brave. You got to believe i n a l l of them or believe i n none of them. Believe that man is capable of a l l of them, or he a i n 1 t cap-able of none. (p. 184). As the corporal c a r r i e s the weight of numerous p a r a l l e l s to C h r i s t , several of the novel's other references to Ch r i s t are connected with S u t t e r f i e l d . In his "bearing witness" to man, he i s l i k e "Jesus C h r i s t 37 who i s the true witness." He also takes on the r e s p o n s i b i l i t y of t e l l i n g the groom "...how the head of heaven knows he ought to act" (p. 184). When the lawyer questions S u t t e r f i e l d about the money won with the horse, S u t t e r f i e l d responds with the f a i t h that i t w i l l be suf-f i c i e n t . "Like the loaves and the fi s h e s ? " the lawyer asks (p. 163). The analogy i s not denied. Also, S u t t e r f i e l d c a r r i e s the same message of pa c i f i s m potently enough to convince a r i c h widow that her money supporting her dead son's a i r squadron i s being used wrongly. With that money, he s t a r t s the societe*, a simple sanctuary of b e l i e f . S u t t e r f i e l d , with his b e l i e f s i n the i n t e g r i t y of the i n d i v i d u a l man becomes "Tooleman," everyman, as does the corporal i n the tomb of the Unknown S o l d i e r . The B r i t i s h runner assimilates the corporal's example and S u t t e r f i e l d ' s words -of b e l i e f , and i t i s his developing insights from meditation to f i n a l act which provide the reader with a s i g n i f i c a n t i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of the i r words and actions. As a commissioned o f f i c e r , the runner begins to understand the i n -voluted and r i g i d nature of the m i l i t a r y . He then forces the hierarchy to demote him because he r e a l i z e s that he himself cannot be free (the word 37 Revelations 1.5. i s his) u n t i l he releases the men below him and by that act, affirms that they are a l l i n d i v i d u a l s , a l l u n c l a s s i f i a b l e . Then, as a r e s u l t of the mutiny i n s t i g a t e d by the corporal, the runner can a r t i c u l a t e his r e a l i z a t i o n : "...even ruthless and all-powerful and unchallenged able Authority would be impotent before that massed u n r e s i s t i n g un-demanding p a s s i v i t y " (p. 64). "Authority cannot deal with those who deny i t s very premises. The runner puts this knowledge together with the b e l i e f i n man gained from S u t t e r f i e l d and plans not j u s t a mutiny but a mass r e j e c t i o n of war and "Authority." "What he was armed with was capable of containing a l l of time, a l l of man1! (p. 189). When his scheme i s successful and the men i n the trenches r i s e and a f f i r m their i n d i v i d u a l power to decide f o r themselves and thus renounce "Authority," the m i l i t a r y ' s only possible response i s to destroy them. But the runner gets the f i n a l word, for he appears, mutilated by that s h e l l i n g , at the Old General's state funeral to throw at his casket the abstract symbols and phrases representative of the m i l i t a r y ' s view of man as only a "functioning machine." The runner then states his own affirmation; "'That's r i g h t , ' he said; 'Tremble. I'm not going to d i e . Never'" (p. 392). The Quartermaster General, who is holding the runner's head i n his lap, r e p l i e s , " I am not laughing...What you see are tears" (p. 392). This conjunction of tears and laughter echoes S u t t e r f i e l d ' s words of ac-ceptance of the whole man; "[Tears and laughter] are a l l the same to Him; He can grieve f o r both of them" (p. 183), because they are both the ex-pressions of an i n d i v i d u a l heart i n the t o t a l i t y of i t s humanity. S i m i l a r l y , the corporal had countered a l l of the temptations, couched i n the i r r e f u t a b l e l o g i c of state and organized church, with the pro-found s i l e n c e of his humanity or with the simply asserted humanity of his followers. Faulkner's C h r i s t would bring a s a l v a t i o n which i s re l a t e d neither to the f a c t of phys i c a l death nor to the horrors of war. Rather, i t i s sa l v a t i o n from the anonymity which i n e v i t a b l y accompanies the reduction of man's i n d i v i d u a l i t y into an i n f l e x i b l e category. This s a l v a t i o n , too, involves a kind of r e l i g i o n , but i t has nothing to do with the i n s t i t u -t i o n a l C h r i s t i a n i t y so roundly condemned i n Lig h t i n August and rejected by the corporal i n A Fable. This r e l i g i o n has i t s only b e l i e f i n man himself; i t i s e s s e n t i a l l y the b e l i e f that the i n d i v i d u a l i s worth whatever i t takes to understand him, to perceive him as he i s , and the f a i t h that such perception i s possi b l e . This b e l i e f contains the para-dox that man's l i f e accepted i n i t s wholeness, "the vast burden of his long i n e x p l i c a b l e , incomprehensible t r a d i t i o n and journey" (p. 50), i s his d i v i n i t y . A Fable is Faulkner's most concentrated use of the C h r i s t i a n myth, and i s also his most d i f f i c u l t novel from a s t y l i s t i c point of view. Joseph Gold has stated that the d i f f i c u l t y a r ises becase Faulkner t r i e s 38 "...to take a r a t i o n a l approach to the i r r a t i o n a l , the mythical." On the contrary, I think that Faulkner's method here i s not r a t i o n a l , but the i r r a t i o n a l method of the metaphor. The fundamental element i n metaphor 3 8 Joseph Gold, William Faulkner: A Study i n Humanism from Metaphor to  Discourse (Norman, Oklahoma, 1966), p. 145. i s the undeniable l o g i c of analogy: i t purports to e s t a b l i s h a pre-c i s e r e l a t i o n s h i p between two things. But the content of the metaphor quickly moves into the i l l o g i c a l since the objects i t compares are l o g i c a l l y unrelated, l i k e crowds of people and " f i e l d s of harvest wheat." The metaphor forces one to see an object from a new perspective because of the unexpectedness of the implied comparison, and one cannot necess a r i l y depend upon his preconceptions to be of much use. S i m i l a r l y , A Fable presents a multitude of analogies which form a subtle pattern-of various juxtapositionings of the novel's elements. I t i s i n that s h i f t i n g pattern that the novel's a r t i s t i c statement l i e s . The seemingly d i s -jointed segments of the novel, the Old General's l i f e , the horse racing episode, David Levine's disillusionment, f i n a l l y take on a s t a r t l i h g y unity l i k e that of the units of a metaphor. For an example, the novel's opening scene, as I have already i n -dicated, presents the novel's c e n t r a l c o n f l i c t s not by d i r e c t statement nor by narrating a p h y s i c a l or psychological struggle. The c o n f l i c t i s presented by means of a series of v i s u a l images which are simply juxta-posed i n the narrative without further development or a u t h o r i a l comment: the m i l i t a r y men with t h e i r symbols and r i t u a l s , standing i n r i g i d at-tention; the formless mass of people temporarily c o n t r o l l e d by the m i l i t a r y order; the corporal, relaxed, f a c i n g without fear both the h o s t i l i t y of the crowd and the detached n e u t r a l i t y of the m i l i t a r y . The tone of the narrator i s completely objective, and the chapter's power and any trans-l a t a b l e statement of meaning are derived from the dynamic in t e r p l a y of these images. This is the technique of the metaphor which presents without comment a ju x t a p o s i t i o n of two images. One could at this point object that I have presented nothing new, that such a technique can be found i n any number of scenes i n p a r t i c u l a r novels. While that may be true, my point i s that this technique i s the primary s t r u c t u r a l p r i n c i p l e which gives A Fable i t s coherence. This same technique provides the key to understanding the r e l a t i o n s h i p be-tween the race horse episode and the r e s t of the novel. Again, two images, though now quite complex are juxtaposed and an analogy i s im-p l i e d ; the groom has cast the existence of the horse into a r i g i d mold j u s t as the generals have done to the people. Both processes have a long unbroken t r a d i t i o n and both melt into the si n g l e t r a d i t i o n "...of earth's splendid rapers" [(-p. 140) . The f i n a l s i g n i f i c a n c e of the two p a r a l l e l s t o r i e s r e s u l t s from their j u x t a p o s i t i o n . Neither i s complete i n i t s e l f but depends upon the reader's simultaneous perception of the two images. F i n a l l y , this metaphorical structure i s also employed when Faulkner superimposes the C h r i s t i a n myth on the narrative of the mutinous regiment. The juxta p o s i t i o n of the corporal's r e b e l l i o n against "Authority," his as s e r t i o n of his " s e l f , " with his s u p e r f i c i a l C h r i s t - l i k e a t t r i b u t e s re-s u l t s i n the reader's perception of the corporal's d i v i n i t y i n h i s humanity and of man's salvations i n the i n d i v i d u a l ' s unmitigated and uncompromising as s e r t i o n of the primacy of his being. Again, the reader must perceive simultaneously the two images of the corporal as man and as C h r i s t . A Fable's dependence upon this perceptual simultaneity i s both i t s strength and, ultimately, i t s flaw. To the extent that i t i s successful, i t allows f o r a r i c h complexity of v i s i o n as I have t r i e d to indicate i n my analysis above. Moreover, i t permits a kind of u n i v e r s a l i t y since the combining of the images of C h r i s t , the corporal, S u t t e r f i e l d and the runner admits a timelessness to the novel. The struggle depicted herein* is a b a t t l e that man f i r s t began when he grouped together to divide his labor and thus assumed r o l e s . The b a t t l e can never r e a l l y be l o s t or won since s o c i e t a l structure i s a necessity and s o c i e t a l r o l e s , therefore, i n e v i t a b l e . Although "Authority" builds more powerful weapons, there w i l l be "runners" who throw i t s symbols of r i g i d i t y back into i t s face. In other words, the struggle i s but repeated through each camp,'s various avatars from generation to generation. The metaphorical structure better than any other kind can emphasize this e s s e n t i a l i d e n t i t y of images. However, such a metaphorical structure i s doomed to a degree of f a i l -ure because the n o v e l i s t cannot overcome the sheer l i n e a r time involved i n reading a lengthy f i c t i o n a l work. Inev i t a b l y , the reader f i r s t per-ceives the images as a succession of events because he must read them i n succession. In combatting this i n e v i t a b i l i t y , Faulkner occasionally lap-ses into tedium because of the r e p e t i t i o n and into obscurity because of his s t y l e . Nevertheless, the novel remains an i n t e r e s t i n g experimentation with a l l e g o r i c a l form. When one examines Faulkner's developing use of the C h r i s t i a n myth, he can see that A Fable i s an extension of Faulkner's concerns with the primary opposition between a mechanical, oppressive structure which would deprive the i n d i v i d u a l of l i f e experienced i n i t s wholeness and of his attempts to express his " s e l f " by l i v i n g his experiences i n free-dom from external c o n s t r i c t i o n s . A Fable employs some of the same basic s t r u c t u r a l devices which shape e a r l i e r novels. As i n The Sound  and the Fury, the chapter names are the days i n the week of Christ's judgment, c r u c i f i x i o n and re s u r r e c t i o n , and although the novel's time present i s p r i m a r i l y l i m i t e d to these days, Faulkner uses a kind of flashback technique, f o r as much as f o r t y years i n the case of the Old General, to f i l l i n each of the major characters' l i v e s and to indicate how he a r r i v e d at this point i n time with this p a r t i c u l a r modus v i v e n d i . As i n L i g h t i n August, Faulkner has so f i x e d a character's l i f e as to indicate that i n c e r t a i n ways, the character i s p a r a l l e l to C h r i s t . Therefore, i n order to i l l u s t r a t e Faulkner's development toward the ideas and techniques of A Fable, I w i l l return to his "apprentice" works, Soldier's Pay, Mosquitoes, S a r t o r i s , i n which the myth appears on'.the l e v e l of a l l u s i o n , and work through the novels of his "middle period" i n which the myth i s a primary element, The Sound and the Fury and L i g h t i n August. Although the C h r i s t i a n myth i s not dominant i n Soldier's Pay, Mosquitoes, or S a r t o r i s , they are important nonetheless because i n these novels we can detect a p a r t i c u l a r a t t i t u d e toward i t that i n the l a t e r works emerges as one of the major ideas. In these three works, the myth appears, for the most part, only on the l e v e l of a l l u s i o n . Soldier's Pay, Faulkner's World War I novel, i s a book of not very subtle irony. The mutilated and dying s o l d i e r , Donald Mahon, returns from the ba t t l e f i e l d to a rather i n d i f f e r e n t community which i s no longer interested i n either war or war heroes. We see this i n d i f -ference from the opening scene on the t r a i n to the scene of Mahon1s sparsely attended f u n e r a l . What i n t e r e s t the community does show i s but morbid c u r i o s i t y . They r e a l l y cannot bear to look at what they have caused. The novel i s quite reminiscent of Hemingwayesque d i s i l -lusionment, and, as Hyatt Waggoner says, "...the d i s i l l u s i o n e d , returning s o l d i e r s , drinking to deaden their awareness of the great nothingness behind and before them, are l i k e classroom examples of l o s t generation a t t i t u d e s . " 1 Most of the characters i n Soldier's Pay are motivated by s e l f i s h -ness. The constant awareness of Mahon's r a p i d l y approaching death per-vades the e n t i r e novel. So, the general impression one gets is that of a completely d i s j o i n t e d society with only an occasional humane response 1 Hyatt Waggoner, William Faulkner; From Jefferson to the World (Lexington, Kentucky, 1959), p. 1. to be found i n i t . There i s also an exasperating f e e l i n g of incom-pleteness because no one i n the novel is able to f u l f i l l himself. Margaret Powers and Joe Gilliganedo not r e a l l y express the love that they f e e l f o r one another, and they admit that they have f a i l e d i n their at-tempt to aid Donald. C e c i l y Saunders marries George Farr, but returns from the honeymoon i n tears. The rector, Donald's father, cannot main-t a i n his i l l u s i o n s of Donald's eventual recovery. Emmy receives no solace for her now l o s t love f o r Donald. Januarius Jones, though he f i n a l l y succeeds i n having Emmy's body, gets that and no more; her mind and heart are f i l l e d with anguish over Donald's death. Coupled with this rather pessimistic view of man's condition i s a view of God, or the c o n t r o l l i n g power, as detached from and i n d i f f e r e n t to man. Margaret Powers " . . ..thought of her husband youngly dead i n France i n a recurrence of f r e t f u l exasperation with having been tri c k e d 2 by a wanton Fate; a joke amusing to no one." A few pages l a t e r , this idea i s reinforced when Margaret and Joe are discussing Mahon's lamen-table p o s i t i o n , and Margaret says, "Everything i s funny. H o r r i b l y funny" (p. 44). Even Rector Mahon i n his remark to Joe at the end of the novel seems to y i e l d to this view; "God i s circumstance, Joe" (p. 317). There is also a series of a d j e c t i v a l phrases describing a "...detachment im-personal as God" (p. 45; see also pp. 27, 89, 151, and 271). Faulkner, however, goes even further and connects this god with the i n e v i t a b l e movement of time. Not only are there repeated references to the diurnal 2 William Faulkner, Soldier's Pay (New York} [1926] 1954), p. 36. A l l further references are to this e d i t i o n and w i l l appear p a r e n t h e t i c a l l y within the text. movement from spring to summer (see, f o r example, pages 22, 37, 252, 284, 309 and 315), but there are also overt statements about the con-tinuous, all-enveloping movement of the earth. When Ce c i l y Saunders i s ly i n g i n her bed, "Lying on her back i n her bed, i n her dark room, she, too, heard the hushed sounds of night, smelled the sweet scents of spring and dark and growing things; the earth, watching the wheel of the world, the t e r r i b l e calm, i n e v i t a b i l i t y of l i f e , turning through the hours of darkness, passing i t s dead center point and turning f a s t e r , drawing the waters of dawn up from the hushed c i s t e r n of the east, breaking the slum-ber of the sparrows" (p. 244). Also, twice i n the novel Faulkner des-cribes the clock i n the town square, i r o n i c a l l y , as a "benignant god" (pp. 235 and 313). The cumulative e f f e c t of these references i s to e s t a b l i s h a tension between this inhuman and uncaring "clock-god" and the supposedly C h r i s t i a n s e t t i n g . There are al s o copious a l l u s i o n s to c l a s s i c a l mythology. Jones i s several times compared to a satry or a faun, and a f t e r he t r i p s over a bucket of water, to a "sodden Venus"; Ce c i l y i s c a l l e d a hamadryad; the rector i s referred to as Jove. There are a lso passing references to Atalanta, Cerberus, Mirandola and Mercury. Although he draws few conclusions about them, Richard Adams l i s t s the 3 occurences of such a l l u s i o n s ; Walter Brylowski also enumerates them, concluding that they r e a l l y are not integrated into the novel and, " s e l f -conscious as they are, may serve only as evidence that i n his f i r s t novel, 4 Faulkner was interested i n one area of myth." Taken as a cumulative 3 Adams, op_. c i t . , pp. 34-40. ^ Brylowski, o_p_. c i t . , p. 47. e f f e c t rather than examined i n d i v i d u a l l y , however, the weight of the imagery of the impersonal God and the a l l u s i o n s to pagan mythology overpower the C h r i s t i a n s e t t i n g and suggest that C h r i s t i a n i t y i s no longer an operative force i n society. In the words of Edmond Volpe, "Faulkner's juxt a p o s i t i o n i n the novel of the Pan image with Parson Mahon whose god i s Circumstance produces the antiphonal cry of the modern world: Pan is. dead and so i s God.""' A pattern of references to C h r i s t i a n i t y r e i n f o r c e the picture of utter d i s i l l u s i o n m e n t . This pat-tern begins i n the f i r s t chapter with the long parade of expletives, God, h e l l , and C h r i s t . Nearly every page of the f i r s t chapter contains at l e a s t one such expletive. This i s , of course, the scene of the drun-ken s o l d i e r s whose verbal motif, even i n th e i r i n e b r i a t i o n i s "Ain't war h e l l " (p. 9-10). As proof of that h e l l , Donald Mahon, the war v i c t i m , i introduced, and we are presented with "...a world that had forgotten Spring" (p. 37). Several further a l l u s i o n s repeat this f e e l i n g of s t e r i l i t y and help lessness. The f i r s t , that of the " f a l l i n g cross," appears early i n the novel i n the scene of the meeting of Jones and the Rector; Janiiarius Jones, caught i n the spire's i l l u s i o n of slow r u i n , murmured; 'Watch i t f a l l , s i r . . . i t was ever my c h i l d i s h d e l i g h t to stand be-neath a spire while clouds are moving overhead. The i l l u s i o n of slow f a l l i n g i s pe r f e c t . Have you ever experienced i t , s i r ? ' 'To be sure I have, though i t has been...more years than I care to remember'...from the Gothic mass of the church the spire rose, a prayer im-perishable i n bronze, immaculate i n i t s i l l u s i o n of slow r u i n . . . (pp. 57-58). Edmond Volpe, A Reader's Guide to William Faulkner (New York, 1964), p We Later learn that even the rector no longer believes i n the p r i n -c i p l e s which the spi r e and his c l e r i c a l c o l l a r symbolize. They are empty l i k e the i d l e , meaningless chatter of Jones as he makes small talk and f l o u t s his c l a s s i c a l and phi l o s o p h i c a l education; '...we of this age believe that he who may be approached imformally, without the i n t e r -cession of an o f f i c e - b o y . . . i s not worth the approaching. We purchase our sa l v a t i o n as we do our r e a l estate. Our God...need not be compassionate, he need not be very i n -t e l l i g e n t . But he must have dignity.' (p. 58) Such a concept can e x i s t only because, f o r these characters, the divine element i n l i f e i s , l i k e the church s p i r e , disassociated from the earth, a notion that i s reinforced by a series of references to a d i s i n t e r e s t e d diety; "enigmatic as a god" (p. 89), "impersonal as Omnipotence" (p. 271). The climax of such a l l u s i o n s occurs at Donald Mahon's funeral ser-v i c e with :the words, " I am the Resurrection and the L i f e , s a i t h the Lord. Whosever believeth i n Me, though he were dead yet s h a l l he l i v e . And whosoever l i v e t h and believeth i n Me s h a l l never die" (p. 297). In con-text, we can only take these words i r o n i c a l l y because we have yet to see anyone who could meet the q u a l i f i c a t i o n s for such a res u r r e c t i o n . Then, these words are juxtaposed to the scene i n which Jones f i n a l l y takes Emmy to bed. But surely we must take into account the q u a l i t y of the scene. The lack of love between Jones and Emmy suggests i t s i r o n i c i n t e n t i o n . For Jones, the act i s merely another method of bol s t e r i n g his ego; for Emmy, i t i s but a 3sublimation and a release of the emotions which have been building up inside her since Donald's return: " I t was Jones who had touched her, but anyone would have been the same and she turned i n a passion of weeping, c l i n g i n g to him" (p. 297). Immediately a f t e r Jones and Emmy have l e f t f o r the bedroom, the narrator says, "The sun had gone, had been r e c a l l e d as quickly as a usurer's note and the doves f e l l s i l e n t or went away" (p. 298). This world had f o r -gotten spring" because i t s patron s a i n t i s Narcissus. A f t e r one of his attempts to impose himself on C e c i l y Saunders, Jones looks at "...the bulky tweeded Narcissus of himself i n the polished wood" (p. 92). Also, at the end of the novel, the trees are described as leaning over a stream, N a r c i s s u s - l i k e " (p. 309). In f a c t , Nar-cissus i s the god to whom a l l of the characters pray since each of them i s concerned only with f u l f i l l i n g his own desires, and as a re-s u l t , can have no s i g n i f i c a n t r e l a t i o n s h i p with anyone. Such nar-c i s s i s t i c i n v o l u t i o n coupled with the references to a god who i s re-moved from the concerns of l i v i n g , who is "...the sorry jade Circum-stance" (p. 30), indicates the irrelevance and ineffectiveness of of the orthodox C h r i s t i a n concept of God. Two f i n a l references, however, because<-6f i.their s t r a t e g i c place-ment and thei r strength, suggest a p o s i t i v e conclusion to the novel. The f e r t i l i t y of the natural world and the a l l u s i o n s to f e r t i l i t y myths p o s i t , i f only by implication, an a l t e r n a t i v e to the rampant s t e r i l i t y , and, s i m i l a r l y , these two a l l u s i o n s suggest an a l t e r n a t i v e view of the C h r i s t i a n myth which would lead toward f u l f i l l m e n t rather than f r u s t r a t i o n . The f i r s t of these a l l u s i o n s occurs a f t e r Joe G i l l i g a n has seen Margaret leave on the t r a i n and has gotten drunk and sober again. He walks back toward town and passes some Negro cabins: The cabins were dark but from them came so f t meaningless laughter and slow unem-phatic voices cheerful yet somehow f i l l e d with a l l the old despair of time and breath. Under the moon, quavering with the passion of spring and flesh...something pagan using the white-man's conventions as i t used his c l o t h i n g , hushed and powerful not knowing i t s own power: "Sweet chariot...comin' f e r to ca'y me home...Yes, Jesus, comin 1 f e r to ca'y me hooooome..." (pp. 212-213). This scene i s tremendously e f f e c t i v e , p a r t i a l l y because i t i s placed between Joe's temporary achievement of consolation i n liquor and his f i n a l , meaningless b a t t l e with Jones. In both the Negroes' song and the narrator's comments, we sense an a b i l i t y to a t t a i n some sort of truce with the seeming absurdity, "the old despairs of time and breath." The passage strongly hints that the Negroes have somehow managed to accept this despair and l i v e i n spite of i t . I t i s s i g n i f i c a n t , too, that they have "used the white man's conventions," but have changed them to f i t t h e i r own p a r t i c u l a r human needs. The passage presents a surcease from the desperate f e e l i n g of f r u s t r a t i o n and exasperation f e l t throughout the novel. For the reader, the "meaningless laughter" and the "slow unemphatic voices" are completely new and f r e s h experiences and they, once mentioned, point up t h e i r conspicuous absence u n t i l now. The hymn, with i t s l i t e r a l meaning of looking toward a f i n a l reward i n the a f t e r l i f e , becomes a symbol of the peace attainable here. I t voices a kind of s p i r i t u a l and emotional freedom attained not by renunciation but by acceptance of both the despair and the passion of "spring and f a i t h , " even though both w i l l i n e v i t a b l y y i e l d to the force of time. This f e e l i n g i s recaptured and enlarged i n the f i n a l scene i n which Rector Mahon and G i l l i g a n hear part of a Negro church s e r v i c e . The singing drew nearer and nearer; at l a s t , crouching among a clump of trees beside the road, they saw the shabby church with i t s canting travesty of a s p i r e . Within i t was a s o f t glow of kerosene serving only to make thicker the imminence of sex a f t e r harsh l a -bor along the mooned land; and from i t welled the crooning submerged passion of the dark race. I t was nothing; i t was everything; then i t swelled to an ecstasy, taking the white man's words as r e a d i l y as i t took his remote God and made a personal Father of Him. Feed Thy Sheep, 0 Jesus. A l l the longing of There a c t u a l l y has been a subtle preparation f o r this scene: several times e a r l i e r , there have been suggestions of this same s i m p l i c i t y and natural f a i t h . One Negro, speaking of Donald, says to another, "Well, he's been c l o s t e r to the Lord than y o u ' l l ever g i t " (p. 11). Then Faulkner describes the Negro c h i l d r e n walking along the s t r e e t , "...who seeming to have no a r b i t r a r y hours, seemingly free of a l l compulsions of time or higher learning, went to and from school at any hour of a possible lig h t e d eight..." (p. 115). F i n a l l y , when the funeral pro-cession passes, a Negro says, "Well, Jesus I We a l l gwine dat way some day" (p. 296). mankind for a Oneness with something somewhere. Feed Thy Sheep, 0 Jesus...Feed Thy Sheep, 0 Jesus. The voices rose f u l l and s o f t . There was no organ. No organ was needed as above the harmonic passion of bass and baritone soared a c l e a r soprano of women's voices l i k e a f l i g h t of gold and heavenly birds. T h ^ s t o o d together i n the dust, the rector i n his shapeless black and G i l l i g a n i n his new hard serge, l i s t e n i n g , seeing the shabby ^church become bea u t i f u l with mellow longing, passionate and sad. Then, the singing died, fading away along the mooned land, i n e v i t a b l e with tomorrow and sweat, with sex and death and damnation; and they turned town-ward under the moon, f e e l i n g dust i n their shoes. (p. 319). As i n the e a r l i e r passage, the juxtaposition of the Negroes' and the white man's churches i s made both e x p l i c i t l y and symbolically. The "canting travesty of a s p i r e " r e c a l l s the " f a l l i n g s p i r e " of the rec-tor's church. Here, however, the s p i r e i s r e a l l y t i l t e d , r e f l e c t i n g the Negroes' adaptation of the white man's "clock-god" of circumstance. The Negroes have humanized what has become for the white man an empty s h e l l of d i s b e l i e f , and they have been able to achieve an atonement, making themselves "at-one," symbolized i n the harmonious mixture of male and female voices. Their acceptance of th e i r own humanity i s the important f a c t o r . Their kerosene lanterns thicken "the imminence of sex" which becomes a palpable part of their worship; The avoidance of sexuality and meaningful phy s i c a l responses has been one of the main problems i n the l i v e s of a l l the characters i n the novel except for Donald and Emmy i n their youth. Jones and George Far r , each i n his own n a r c i s s i s t i c way, is obsessed with his maleness and his response to women i s an engagement only of the body and the ego. C e c i l y Saunders is a f r a i d of her sexuality. Margaret Powers seems to have developed a phobia for close r e l a t i o n s h i p s as a r e s u l t of the death of her husband, to whom she gave herself " . . . f o r the purpose of getting of each other a b r i e f ecstasy 1' (p. 36). G i l l i g a n , i n s p ite of his warmth, allows r i g i d s o c i a l mores to curb his s e l f -expression. On the other hand, Faulkner here implies that the Negroes, perhaps i n t u i t i v e l y , r e a l i z e the i n e v i t a b i l i t y of "to-morrow and sweat and death and damnation," and they r e a d i l y accept these things as well as th e i r s e x u a l i t y as part of the pattern of l i f e i t s e l f . So, the Negro church service, the v o i c i n g of the name of Jesus, are not theological abstractions but the Negroes' vo i c i n g of their recognition of th e i r com-plete humanity which they see r e f l e c t e d i n C h r i s t , the p e r f e c t l y human god, and which we see r e f l e c t e d i n the image of the t i l t e d s p i r e . Nor i s t h e i r achievement of unity an otherworldly thing; the harmony i n their singing mirrors the harmony they have achieved with one another. In Soldier's Pay, the a l l u s i o n s to Chr i s t a c t u a l l y serve two d i f f e r e n t purposes, then. In the context of the exasperating world of s o c i a l pre-s c r i p t i o n s and theological abstractions, such as those voiced by the rector and Jones, i n the world of the f a l l i n g s p i r e , God i s dead, or at l e a s t is what the people demand him to be, a detached "God of c i r -cumstance." In such a world the concepts of d i v i n i t y and humanity are mutually exclusive, and a r e c o n c i l i a t i o n of the two is impossible. The things which we see connected with God, the s p i r e and the clock tower, are above man, unapproachable and unchanging. Jones' statement early i n the novel which appears to be more of his verbal camouflage intended to im-press and seduce, i s a c t u a l l y quite an apt observation: "Our God...need not be compassionate, he need not be very i n t e l l i g e n t . But he must have d i g n i t y " (p. 58). But behind this s o c i a l structure i s a more profoundly human realm i n which one can achieve a union with God i n his humanity. There i s no i n t r i n s i c d i g n i t y i n the "canting sp i r e " because the concept of d i g n i t y , which i s but a w a l l , has been replaced by s i m p l i c i t y . I t i s s i g n i f i c a n t that the Negroes sing "Feed Thy Sheep, 0 Jesus," f o r this at once recognizes the need for p h y s i c a l and s p i r i t u a l f u l f i l l m e n t . I t i s , of course, the world of the Negro church service which i s rendered desirable i n the novel, and i n that world Faulkner emphasizes the Negroes' adaptation of the r e l i g i o n to r e f l e c t their humanity. In f a c t , Faulkner e x p l i c i t -l y c a l l s i t "...something pagan using the white man's conventions" (p. 312; emphasis mine). They bring Jesus out of the remote sky and put him on their canting s p i r e , and He becomes a symbol f o r an achievement of "oneness" on earth. Through a contact with this kind of f a i t h , and prepared for i t by the force of their own newly-felt losses, G i l l i g a n and the rector sense the s i g n i f i c a n c e of what i s being expressed within that church; they can, I think, not only f e e l but savour "the dust i n their shoes." When we turn to Faulkner's second novel, Mosquitoes 7 we discover, not unexpectedly, that with the r a d i c a l s h i f t i n subject matter and tone, there i s a concurrent s h i f t i n the nature of the a l l u s i o n s which are of a more " l i t e r a r y " nature. They range from overt a l l u s i o n s to 7 M i l l g a t e (The Achievement of William Faulkner, pp. 23 - 2 4 ) , indicates that this novel was a c t u a l l y w r itten a f t e r S a r t o r i s . But I s h a l l deal with them i n order of p u b l i c a t i o n since the order of w r i t i n g of these ear novels has l i t t l e bearing on my argument. l i t e r a r y f i g u r e s , such as Shelley and Ibsen and Shakespeare, to t h i n l y , . 8 9 disguised echoes of T. S. p'Eiiot and Thomas Carlyle. In f a c t , the novel 10 as a whole has been st y l e d an i m i t a t i o n of both Aldous Huxley and James Joyce's A P o r t r a i t of the A r t i s t as a Young Man,^ This, again, i s not very s u r p r i s i n g since one of the main concerns of much of the novel and of the dialogue i n the novel i s a r t . The center of c o n f l i c t i n the book seems to turn on the opposition between t a l k i n g and doing, i n terms of 12 c r e a t i v e a c t i v i t y as well as l i f e i n general. The voyage on the Nausikaa, on which are gathered esthetes, a r t i s t s and two "common" people, i s a device g "Spring and the c r u e l l e s t months were gone, the cruel months, the wan-tons that break the f a t hybernant dullness of time," (p. 10) , sounds l i k e a prose rendering of the f i r s t stanza of "The Waste Land": " A p r i l i s the c r u e l l e s t month, breeding/Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing/Memory and desire, s t i r r i n g / D u l l roots with spring rain./Winter kept us warm, covering/ Earth i n f o r g e t f u l snow, feeding/A l i t t l e l i f e with dried tubers..." 9 The passage on page 231 of Mosquitoes iniwhich F a i r c h i l d muses about the coming of consciousness and the concomitant loss of spontaneity and exu-berance for l i v i n g i s quite reminiscent of Carl y l e " s essay " C h a r a c t e r i s t i c s " i n which he diagnoses his age's i l l n e s s e s as stemming from consciousness of consciousness. 10 See, for example, Olga Vickery, op_. c i t . , p. 8; Frederick Hoffman, William Faulkner (new York, 19615», 42; and Edmond Volpe, op_. c i t . , p. 57. See Joyce W. Warren, "Faulkner's 'Portrait of the A r t i s t , " 1 M i s s i s s i p p i  Quarterly, XIX (1966), 121-131. 12 The name of the yacht, of course, i s also the name of the daughter of King Alcinous i n Homer's Odessey. She discovers Odysseus who has been shipwrecked and brings him to her father's court where he gains favor by e x c e l l i n g i n th e i r a t h l e t i c competitions and by recounting the h i s t o r y of his t r a v e l s . The l a t t e r so moved the king that he provided for Odysseus to be returned to Ithaca. The p a r a l l e l i s obvious: Mrs. Maurier thinks of herself as a Nausikaa to a r t i s t s , so that by her help they can enter the court of the muses. The p a r a l l e l is i r o n i c because her s u p e r f i c i a l i t y and her preoccupation with t r i v i a better s u i t her to be a Circe who would, i f the a r t i s t s abided by her wishes, detract them from their task and even-t u a l l y turn them into aesthetic swine. to concentrate on the difference between the r e a l a r t i s t and the pre-tender and that between those who l i v e their l i v e s and those who can only talk. Olga Vickery, who has defined as c l e a r l y as anyone the structure and the concerns of the novel, says: "One of the basic attitudes running throughout a l l Faulkner's work i s the view that language and l o g i c act to obscure truth rather than to reveal i t . Accordingly, a primary con-cern i s to demonstrate the barrenness that attends a l l discussion. In Mosquitoes , as i n the l a t e r novels, truth i s dependent not on words but on a moment of comprehension which usually occurs when the i n d i v i d u a l is 13 l e a s t concerned with i n t e l l e c t u a l a c t i v i t y . " S i m i l a r l y , the a r t of l i v i n g i s dependent not on the a b i l i t y to explain one's plans and experi-ences, but to act. This i s the d i f f e r e n c e between T a l l i a f e r o and Mrs. Maurier on one hand, and Jenny and Pete on the other. Such a "moment of comprehension" as Vickery describes occurs when Gordon, Dawson F a i r c h i l d , and J u l i u s are getting w i l d l y drunk a f t e r their 14 return to New Orleans. Thevmetaphor with which F a i r c h i l d chooses to express his r e v e l a t i o n i s that of Christ's s a c r i f i c e , and i t i s the key to Faulkner's rather limited use of the C h r i s t i a n myth i n the novel. F a i r c h i l d says that c r e a t i v e , a r t i s t i c genius " . . . i s that Passion Week of the heart, that instant of timeless beatitude...that passive state of the 13 Vickery, op_. c i t . , p. 8. ^ Besides this and one other s i m i l a r passage which I discuss l a t e r , the a l l u s i o n s to the myth i n Mosquitoes are r e l a t i v e l y i n s i g n i f i c a n t . There are two descriptions of the cathedral s p i r e on the New Orleans skyline (pp. 14 and 28), and two rather wordy discussions of r e l i g i o n which seem to be only indications of the meaningless semantic juggling which occupies much of the novel (pp. 40-42; 229-230). There are also several expletives using God or C h r i s t , and a d e s c r i p t i o n of a painting of the Madonna and Child which Mrs. Maurier purchased (p. 17), i n d i c a t i v e of her complete lack of a r t i s t i c taste heart with which the mind, the brain, has nothing to do at a l l , i n which the hackneyed accidents which make up this world--love and l i f e and death and sex and sorrow--brought together by chance i n perfect proportions, take on a kind of splendid and timeless beauty."^ I t i s the involvement of the heart which i s the important fac-tor i n both a r t and, by implication, the Passion Week. A l l things which c o n s t i t u t e human l i f e , "love and death and sex and sorrow," are a part of this response. As i n the e a r l i e r passage i n Soldier's Pay, we see here the expression of a need for a harmonious conjunction of those factors which are the essence of man's humanity. The concept of God, or at l e a s t of the god i n C h r i s t , as something extra-human i s re-moved and the expression of d i v i n i t y i s found i n "the hackneyed a c c i -dents which make up this world." As•the use of the word "timeless" i n d i c a t e s , this f i t s Adams' d e s c r i p t i o n of "an a r t i f i c i a l l y f i x e d and i s o l a t e d moment...which has the e f f e c t of compressing a l i f e time into 16 a s i n g l e event." In the above-passage, Faulkner indicates that this kind of experience i s achieved when one allows the wholeness of l i f e to subsume him completely so that for the moment, his i n d i v i d u a l i t y i s 1 5 William Faulkner, Mosquitoes (New York, [1927] 1955), p. 339. A l l further references are to this e d i t i o n and appear p a r e n t h e t i c a l l y i n the text. Faulkner continued to l i n k a r t and Christ's s a c r i f i c e , and i n v a r i -ous interviews made e x p l i c i t remarks on the subject: "Art i s not only man's most supreme expression; i t i s also the s a l v a t i o n of mankind" (James Meri-wether and Michael M i l l g a t e , eds., Lion i n the Garden (New York, 1968), p. 71.) He l a t e r remarked, "...the species which created the f i n e p i c t u r e , the music,...the books, i s too valuable f o r omnipotence, God whoever he i s , to l e t p e r i s h . That i s the immortality of the race, not of the i n d i v i d u a l " (J. Fant and R. Ashley, eds., Faulkner at West Point (New York, 1964), p. 114). ^ Adams, op_. c i t . , p. 7. not l o s t but elevated and made almost tangible as he p a r t i c i p a t e s i n the force of l i f e i t s e l f . The moment i s "timeless" because F a i r c h i l d is temporarily removed from the a r t i f i c i a l structures of his immediate surroundings and because this moment, whenever i t occurs, i s always the same profound experience. The p a r t i c i p a n t s are not of a p a r t i c u -la r moment i n his t o r y , but achieve i d e n t i t y because they have experi-enced the essence of l i f e . The Passion, then, i s an expression of an achievement of unity which i s emphasized by F a i r c h i l d ' s own fe e l i n g s immediately a f t e r he makes this statement: "He leaned against the w a l l , s t a r i n g into the hushed mad sky, hearing the dark and simple heart of things" (p. 340). Through his "epiphany," F a i r c h i l d gains not only an i n s i g h t i n t o a r t but a complete experience of l i f e , expressed by this f e e l i n g of i n t u i -tive communication of hearts, his and nature's. I t i s a temporary surmounting of c o n f l i c t i n a moment of "splendid and timeless beauty?' Paradoxically, that moment i s achieved through those things which bring about c o n f l i c t - - t h e seemingly opposing forces of love and death, for example. So apparently one moves, by v i r t u e of his humanity, from one l e v e l of awareness i n which he can only see these elements i n con-f l i c t , to a higher, more encompassing v i s i o n i n which the c o n f l i c t s resolve themselves into a u n i f i e d pattern; i t i s indeed, as the nar-rator of Soldier's Pay remarks, "per ardua ad as t r a . " Perhaps i n order to further our understanding of this passage, we should examine a s i m i l a r incident which occurs at the beginning of the novel and involves Gordon, the sculptor, and his thoughts which are again expressed i n terms of the C h r i s t i a n myth. Just a f t e r he i s v i s i t e d by Mrs. Maurier and her niece, P a t r i c i a , Gordon goes for a walk along the dock, thinking of a r t and P a t r i c i a and his desire f or both. He f e e l s a strong sense of c o n f l i c t within himself since he thinks that involvement with P a t r i c i a , even to the extent of;.going on the yachting party, would i n t e r f e r e with his work. Then, he looks i n the water: stars i n my",hair and beard i am crowned with stars c h r i s t by his own hand an autogethsemane carved darkly out of pure space but not r i g i d no no an unmuscled wallowing fecund and f o u l . . . ( p . 48). Several ideas present themselves at once here. F i r s t , there i s the equation of god the creator with the a r t i s t i c creator, which i s a c t u a l l y continued from an e a r l i e r paragraph i n the same section, "shapes out of a chaos more s a t i s f a c t o r y than bread to the b e l l y form by a madmans dream gat on the body of chaos" (p. 47). But then the l a t e r passage brings i n the mediator, C h r i s t i n the garden of agony, Gethsemane, and i t i s a s e l f - w i l l e d s a c r i f i c e , l o s i n g the r i g i d i t y of a remote god-in-heaven who was compelled by a scheme for s a l v a t i o n . In f a c t , the repeated phrase, "cursed and forgotten of god" emphasizes the absence of the re-mote godhead from the c r e a t i v e acts of both the a r t i s t and C h r i s t and i s reminiscent of Christ's cry from the cross, " E l o i , e l o i , lama sabac-t h a n i . " ^ I t i s a l s o an a r t i s t i c v i s i o n of Chr i s t connected not with 1 7 Mark 15.34. his godly omnipotence but with his "unmuscled wallowing fecund and f o u l . " This, i t seems to me, looks forward to Isaac McCaslin's state-18 ment that man i s god when he unites with woman i n the sexual act,, which i s , l i k e a r t , f e r t i l e and c r e a t i v e . As the passages here imply, the pain and pleasure are an i n e x t r i c a b l e part of creation, of l i v i n g , f o r Gordon immediately thinks of the p l a c i d tragic body of a woman who conceives without pleasure bears without pain" (p. 48). At the end of the book, Gordon, a f t e r completing his bust of Mrs. Maurier, and a f t e r getting quite drunk, seeks out a p r o s t i t u t e t o . f u l f i l l his physic a l d e s i r e . Gordon s t i l l perceives his l i f e i n two d i s t i n c t haives, a r t i s t i c and sexual or s p i r i t u a l and p h y s i c a l . However, as the continual metaphorical conjunction of a r t and physi c a l f e r t i l i t y i n d i cates, these two selves are but part of the same drive f o r s e l f -expression. The r e s u l t , then, seems to point us back to the Negro church i n Soldier's Pay and the expression there of "oneness" through the acceptance of sweat, sex and death; even those very words are re-peated i n the scene i n Mosquitoes. In f a c t , one can see the same d u a l i t y i n both novels. Each presents a set of characters who seem to embody s t e r i l i t y because they depend upon the r a t i o n a l i t y of log i c and of words to explain the profundity of experience which i s at the heart of both l i f e and a r t . In contrast to this emotional impotence, Faulkner presents that experience i t s e l f without explanation, and each time, he presents i t i n sexual terms. The essence of l i f e i s c r e a t i v i t y and that requires 18 "I think that every man and woman at the instant when i t don't even matter whether they marry or not, I think that whether they marry then or afterward or don't never, at that instant the two of them together were God" (Go Down, Moses (New York, 1942), p. 348). the p a r t i c i p a t i o n of the whole being at once. In S a r t o r i s the use of the C h r i s t i a n myth, though c e r t a i n l y not dominant, does help to shape the narrative and, p a r t i c u l a r l y toward the end of the novel, provides the basis f o r a rather complex, con-c i s e and quite s i g n i f i c a n t set of juxtapositions. With S a r t o r i s , of course, Faulkner turns to the Yoknapatawpha County which would occupy his mind f o r the re s t of his career, achieving, as Richard Adams notes, one of the pr e r e q u i s i t e steps before "...he could emerge on the high 19 ground of his genius!' Faulkner i s concerned i n this f i r s t novel set in his own "postage stamp of native s o i l , " with the c o n f l i c t set off by the juxta p o s i t i o n of the romanticized South and the comparatively s t a l e , empty existence of the man i n the modern South. The c o n f l i c t i s focused 20 i n Bayard S a r t o r i s , the l a s t of a long l i n e of Bayard and John S a r t o r i s e s . Adams, op_. c i t . , p. 48. 20 The use of the name Bayard which comes from the Romance t r a d i t i o n i s i t s e l f i n d i c a t i v e of the stature to which the Sartorises have elevated t h e i r legend. In his short a r t i c l e on The Unvanquished, James K i b l e r has i d e n t i f i e d the romantic connection here. "...Faulkner's use of the name Bayard also r e c a l l s Chevalier Bayard, the knight sans peur et sans reproche, who i s said to be the main f i g u r e of the waning c h i v a l r i c t r a d i t i o n i n medi-eval France." In a footnote to this remark, K i b l e r further i d e n t i f i e s possible a l l u s i o n s : "Seigneur P i e r r e T e r r a i l de Bayard. Mentioned f r e -quently i n Orlando Furioso i s Bayardo, Rinaldo's bay-coloured horse. He is praised f o r his strength and swiftness, many times being compared to a storm (Canto I, Stanzas 72-76; Canto 5, 82). One might possibly r e l a t e him to the bronze-coloured wild s t a l l i o n that Bayard rides i n S a r t o r i s (pp. 132-134); but this comparison should not be c a r r i e d too f a r . To be noted also i n S a r t o r i s i n connection with Faulkner's use of a l l u s i o n s to the Middle Ages i s the i n d i r e c t reference to Roland on page 380." (James E. K i b l e r , "A Possible Source i n A r i o s t o f o r D r u s i l l a , " M i s s i s s i p p i  Quarterly. XXIII (1970), 321.) The s i g n i f i c a n c e of the past i s here f u l l y documented. Bayard must reconcile himself, not only to the violence of his war, but to i t s sources i n h i s t o r y . When his reaction to his war i s seen i n i t s shocking and excessive way, i t i s both an inheritance from and a check upon the legend emerging from the past... Here again Faulkner i s concerned with examining perspectives upon the truth. Bayard S a r t o r i s cannot bring himself to accepting s i c v i o -lence of any kind as romantic; he i s frus-_ trated beyond b e l i e f by his own experience and his mad dash for a n n i h i l a t i o n i s , there-fore, a r e s u l t of his having found the legend d i s a s t r o u s l y mis lead i n g . 2 In S a r t o r i s the C h r i s t i a n myth i s seen i n two uses of Christmas cele-brations, one near the beginning of the novel and one at the end, during both of which we are concerned with the mad antics of a Bayard S a r t o r i s . The backdrop of the Christmas f e s t i v i t i e s forms a contrast to the des-t r u c t i v e a c t i v i t i e s of the Sartorises and points up the differences be-tween various characters as they respond to Christmas i n their own ways. When Jenny Du Pre i s f i r s t introduced into the novel, Faulkner t e l l s of her a r r i v a l at the S a r t o r i s home at Christmas i n 1869 and of the story she brought with her of the death of Bayard S a r t o r i s , who was shot by a Yankee cook while r a i d i n g a commissary f o r some anchovies. "And Bayard S a r t o r i s 1 b r i e f career swept l i k e a shooting star across the dark p l a i n of their mutual remembering and s u f f e r i n g , l i g h t i n g i t with a transient glare l i k e a soundless thunder-clap, leaving a sort of radiance when i t 22 died." So, at the beginning of the novel, the two st a r s , Bayard's v i o -21 Frederick Hoffman, William Faulkner (New York, 1961), p. 46. 2 2 William Faulkner, S a r t o r i s (New York, [ 1929] 1956), p. 18. A l l further references are to this e d i t i o n and appear p a r e n t h e t i c a l l y within the text. Lent "shooting star" and the Christ's peaceful star of exuLtant annunciation are juxtaposed, contrasting Bayard's s e l f - s a c r i f i c e f o r a jar of anchovies with Christ's act of atonement. Then, with the l a t e r Bayard S a r t o r i s ' e f f o r t s at s e l f - d e s t r u c t i o n , the contrast i s repeated and amplified. Before k i l l i n g himself, young Bayard f i r s t succeeds i n being the immediate cause of the death of his grand-father who, confusingly enough, i s also named Bayard. Young Bayard can no longer face the consequences of his actions, f or he now has two deaths on his conscience; he also holds himself responsible f o r his brother's death i n World War I. On the day on which he " k i l l s " old Bayard, about two weeks before Christmas, Bayard f l e e s to the MacCallum home which i s almost completely i s o l a t e d from the town. Bayard stays there u n t i l Christmas Eve;.. During that i n t e r v a l , Faulkner increases the tension i n the novel and makes the reader aware of the steady, i n e v i t a b l e movement of time toward Christmas when Bayard w i l l be forced to act; he must eith e r leave or explain why he i s not returning, to celebrate Christmas with his family. Thus, the joy of the approaching holiday is adumbrated both by the recent death of old Bayard and the turmoil within Bayard. Bayard decides to leave the MacCallums' home, and his Christmas Eve t r i p to the Negro's barn i s something of a travesty of the o r i g i n a l Christmas trek to the Bethlehem stable - because Bayard's actions are grounded not i n hope but i n despair. He has rejected l i f e and i s moving toward death. Bayard is running away from a world he cannot cope with; he cannot make the fragments of his own l i f e , of his background and of the world which he i s experiencing mesh together into a perceivable unity. In f a c t , his f l i g h t from the r e s p o n s i b i l i t y of his acts contributes d i r e c t l y to the d i s i n t e g r a t i o n he so strongly f e e l s . His actions, l i k e those of the e a r l i e r Bayard, are a n t i t h e t i c a l to those of Ch r i s t because his l i f e i s exclusive and stagnant rather than i n c l u s i v e and expansive. When he ar r i v e s at the Negroes' home, Bayard's actions are jux-taposed not only to Christ's but also to the simple but meaningful response of the MacCallums and the Negro family to Christmas. For both f a m i l i e s , "Christmas a i n ' t Christmas lessen a f e l l e r has a l i t t l e some-thin' d i f f e r e n t from ever'day" (p. 335). So they respond by making i t d i f f e r e n t : f o r the MacCallums, i t i s a"store bought" turkey; f o r the Negro family i t i s a few trinkets f o r the c h i l d r e n . Nonetheless, one fe e l s the s i n c e r i t y of the i r celebrations, f o r they are accompanied by other g i f t s they give f r e e l y to Bayard who simply receives and cannot return the gesture. Faulkner emphasizes the unquestioning f a i t h of the MacCallums: "Perhaps he'd ju s t stay on [with the MacCallums], without even o f f e r i n g that explanation which would never be demanded of him" (p.333). By comparison, Bayard's hyposcrisy i n never explaining his r e a l reason for accepting th e i r h o s p i t a l i t y becomes even more odious. For the Negro family, o f f e r i n g t h e i r food and th e i r blanket to Bayard i s a r e a l sac-r i f i c e since they have l i t t l e indeed. The "Chris'mus" that Bayard does give i n return i s a few drinks of the liquor meant as a g i f t f o r his dead grandfather. The C h r i s t i a n myth as represented by the Christmas f e s t i v i t i e s i n S a r t o r i s serves as a standard against which we can measure Bayard's actions. I t i s representative of the harmony that can be achieved, the simple c h a r i t y that can be offered, the f a i t h that can be prac-t i s e d , a f a i t h i n man. A l l three, the MacCallums, the Negro family and the C h r i s t story, show a simple but integrated existence i n sharp contrast to Bayard's lack of love, f a i t h and "oneness." As i n the e a r l i e r novels, the fecundity of l i f e accepted i n i t s t o t a l i t y i s juxtaposed to the s t e r i l i t y that r e s u l t s from fragmenting i t . Bayard, though he begets a son, i s also saddled with the respon-s i b i l i t y f o r two deaths, and his wife r e j e c t s Bayard's l i f e , the Sar-t o r i s t r a d i t i o n , as a pattern f o r her son: "He i s n ' t John. He's Benbow Sartoris'! (p. 379). Bayard's struggle can be a t t r i b u t e d to the chasm he sees between b e l i e f and r e a l i t y . He has been brought up on the charisma of the S a r t o r i s t r a d i t i o n , a t r a d i t i o n of g a l l a n t r y and noblesse oblige, exemplified by Miss Jenny's story of his namesake. As Hyatt Waggoner observes, the heroic, the b e a u t i f u l s t o r i e s of dead Sar-torises c l a s h with Bayard's own war experience. Although the reasons fo r i t are never e x p l i c i t l y stated, Bayard's g u i l t feelings f o r his bro-ther's death seem to stem l a r g e l y from the f a c t that he himself did not die such a death and that he now finds such a death, even his brother's, meaningless. Bayard i s caught between his attempts to deny the v a l i d i -ty of the romantic v i s i o n and his attempts to a f f i r m that v i s i o n because his brother died be l i e v i n g i n i t , and .he does not want to betray his brother who, as Miss Jenny remarks, i s the only person he has ever loved. His own death, though he r e a l i z e s i t s ultimate f u t i l i t y , i s the only possible r e c o n c i l i a t i o n he can see. Because he cannot r e j e c t a r i g i d preconception of l i f e , he cannot l i v e i n the present. His son i s born on the day Bayard dies (see page 366); however, this i s not a r e s u r r e c t i o n but a r e j e c t i o n of Bayard and the v a l i d i t y of the ro-mantic t r a d i t i o n of the South. In these f i r s t three novels, then, we see Faulkner responding to the fragmentation he senses around him. He expresses a yearning f o r the now l o s t existence of man i n a harmonious, u n i f i e d state, of which the C h r i s t i a n myth i s symbolic. I say " l o s t " because the people whoap-pear, as the a l l u s i o n s suggest, to r e t a i n some connection with the wholeness of l i f e are diss o c i a t e d from the s o c i a l mainstream. The Negroes i n both Soldier's Pay and S a r t o r i s are separated from modern society, the former by their "pagan" adaptations of C h r i s t i a n i t y and the l a t t e r by geographical distance. Likewise, the MacCallums l i v e i n th e i r own, nearly s e l f - s u f f i c i e n t , natural environment, with only i n -frequent t r i p s to J e f f e r s o n . Mark Gordon, the a r t i s t , though l i v i n g i n bohemian New Orleans, has renounced the normal s o c i a l a c t i v i t i e s i n order 23 to gain a t o t a l immersion i n a r t to become, l i k e Poe's I s r a f e l , near the seat of God. He i s nearly always, even omJthe yacht, separated from the crowd. He does, i n f a c t , come away from the yachting party with 24 an i n s p i r a t i o n f o r another piece of sculpture, that of Mrs. Maurier. Gordon himself makes this a s s o c i a t i o n . See, f o r example, pp. 48 and 187. 24 Using the Passion Week metaphor as a basis, perhaps i t i s not t o t a l l y ludicrous to suggest that Gordon's " r e s u r r e c t i o n " (see page 264) has some-thing to do with his i n s p i r a t i o n f o r the bust of Mrs. Maurier. The S a r t o r i s e s , on the other hand, r e t a i n the s h e l l of an e a r l i e r , less complicated existence i n their use of the horse and carriage, f or exam-ple, but theirs i s merely an empty r i t u a l . Old Bayard i s , a f t e r a l l , at the heart of modern, economic society i n his p o s i t i o n as president of the bank. Young Bayard, however, i s caught between the two worlds giving his allegiance to neither, and this kind of separation r e s u l t s i n death. The Sartorises are the opposite of the MacCallums who can maintain a strong sense of the "family" and also l i v e i n harmony both with one another and with th e i r environment. I t i s extremely important to remember that i n a l l three novels Faulkner not only alludes to the C h r i s t i a n myth but associates i t with people; he shows C h r i s t not as a t h e o l o g i c a l p r i n c i p l e but as a l i f e style. Faulkner shapes the myth i n these early novels to stand as an image of r e u n i f i c a t i o n . The r e c o n c i l i a t i o n of man with himself and of man with man i s man's apotheosis. What ar i s e s from these a l l u s i o n s i s the sharp o u t l i n e of the t o t a l humanity of Christ's s a c r i f i c e and the t o t a l humanity, s t r i v i n g toward d i v i n i t y , of man's s a c r i f i c e s . The two contexts, the C h r i s t i a n myth and the s e t t i n g of the novels, work off each other to show shadows of d i v i n i t y i n man: "I s t i l l believe i n man. That he s t i l l wishes, desires, wants to do better than he knows he can and occasionally he does do a l i t t l e better than anybody expects of him. 25 This man i s immortal " I t i s an immortality achieved on a human: l e v e l . T5 ' Robert J e l l i f e , ed., Faulkner at Nagano (Rutland, 1956), p. 18. Faulkner i s , i t seems to me, by no means asking for any so r t of re-turn to a previous, s i m p l i f i e d way of l i v i n g , but rather i s asking f o r a progression from the present fragmentation to a state which w i l l allow the parts to be put back together: "...we mustn't go back to a con-d i t i o n i n which the dream made us think we were happy, we were free of trouble and s i n . We must take the trouble and s i n along with us, and 26 we must cure that trouble and s i n as we go." In his l a t e r novels, Faulkner continues to deal with this s t e r i l i t y and fragmentation, but his use of the C h r i s t i a n myth i s more consistent and complete. Faulkner at Nagano, p. 157. In the novels of what has been c a l l e d the "great middle period," Faulkner seems suddenly to discover what he meant when he wrote F a i r -c h i l d ' s speech concerning a r t as "the Passion Week of the heart." His a l l u s i o n s to the C h r i s t i a n myth quickly leave the surface l e v e l of mere a l l u s i o n and become a part of the s t r u c t u r a l f a b r i c of the novel, and "the hackneyed accidents which make up this l i f e . . . t a k e on a kind of splendid and timeless beauty." One of the most i n t r i g u i n g c r i t i c a l questions i s , as I r v i n g Howe phrases i t , "What happened to Faulkner between Mosquitoes and the novel that followed i t i n composition, The  Sound and the Fury? What element of personal or l i t e r a r y experience can account for such a leap?"''" However, I think that one can observe a c l e a r pattern of development i n methodology, p a r t i c u l a r l y from Soldier's  Pay and S a r t o r i s to the novels w r i t t e n i n this middle period. In this chapter, I w i l l c l o s e l y examine the two novels which i l l u s t r a t e most c l e a r l y Faulkner's continuing preoccupation with the C h r i s t i a n myth, The Sound and the Fury and L i g h t i n August. The structure of The Sound and the Fury i s dominated by the movement in the passion week from c r u c i f i x i o n to r e s u r r e c t i o n , and concurrently, there i s a movement from the s t e r i l e r i g i d i t y associated with the mythical a l l u s i o n s i n the f i r s t sections to Dilsey's experience of communion with the very heart of l i f e i n the l a s t s ection. Each of the days from Thursday "*" I r v i n g Howe, William Faulkner; A C r i t i c a l Study, 2nd ed. (New York, 1962), pp. 20-21. through Saturday is associated with one of the men of the last gen-2 eration of Compsons. Within this general framework of the Christian myth with its implicit promise of " l i f e and that more abundantly," there is a rich texture of allusions in each of the four sections of the novel. In his germinal essay, Carvel Collins proposes that we see Benjy, Quentin, and Jason as three fragments, id, ego, and super-ego respectively, of one Freudian whole, and that taken together these three characters make one character " . . . i n parallel with Christ but, 3 significantly, by inversion." The Compson heirs, then, are represen-tative of the lack of Christian love in the modern world. R. P. Adams agrees with Collins' interpretation, adding only that "...the brothers are not merged by the Freudian pattern, but i t represents a potential wholeness toward which they need to grow," and that Caddy is parallel 4 to the libido. From this somewhat altered pattern, then, Adams is able to state; "Symbolically, i f Caddy could combine her three brothers into one complete, positively Christ-like man, and then commit the incest that Quentin talks about but cannot consummate, a rebirth of l i f e as ^ Carvel Collins has pointed out that Quentin's section, which appears to be out of the passion week sequence actually occured on Thursday, "...so that even though i t is in 1910 rather than the 1928 of the other three carefully dated sections, i t makes Quentin's section form with them a se-quence of Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday." ("The Pairing, of The  Sound and the Fury and As_I Lay Dyings, p. 118.) o Collins, op_. c i t . , p. 117. In contrast, Sumner Power, "William Faulkner Celebrates Easter," Perspective, II (1949), 195-218, attempts to make a case for viewing Benjy as the Christ figure. But i t seems to me that he grossly overstates his case by grasping for rather far-fetched parallels, and, as a result, he is far from convincing. I hardly think that one can see the hat which Dilsey puts on him before his trip to the cemetary as a crown of thorns nor the flower which Luster picks forei him as coming from the Garden of Gethsemane. ^ Adams, op_. c i t . , p. 233. motion might r e s u l t . As i n v i t i n g as such a neat structure i s , since i t combines the C h r i s t i a n myth of godly love with the f e r t i l i t y myths, i t seems to me that i t ignores an equally powerful motif present i n each of the i n -t e r i o r monologues: the function of the a s s e r t i v e w i l l . As nearly every c r i t i c has pointed out, the novel concerns the decay of the Comp-son family i n p a r t i c u l a r and, i m p l i c i t l y , that of the South. What we must do i s discover the reasons for that demise as Faulkner presents i t i n the novel. Surely the novel allows one to do more than simply point to a lack of love; that i s obvious enough without even looking at the novel's mythical texture. I t i s my contention that the mythical pat-tern elucidates the c e n t r a l thematic concern with a society that i s not harmonized but i s rather a conglomeration of i n d i v i d u a l s i s o l a t e d by their separate w i l l s which assert the p a r t i c u l a r pattern of order which they perceive. Therefore, before turning to the s p e c i f i c uses of the C h r i s t i a n myth i n the novel, I think a f a i r l y d e t a i l e d analysis of this w i l l to order i s necessary f o r two important reasons. The f i r s t i s to i l l u s t r a t e that the seemingly d i s s i m i l a r a c t i v i t i e s of Benjy, Quentin and Jason are a c t u a l l y quite s i m i l a r l y motivated, and the differences are only i n the external expression-of that motivation. So, i t seems to me that both Col-l i n s ' Freudian i n t e r p r e t a t i o n and Adams' s l i g h t a l t e r a t i o n of i t are quite misleading because they c l a s s i f y the three brothers i n three r i g i d l y de-f i n e d and mutually exclusive categories. Other c r i t i c s have presented Adams, op_. c i t . , p. 233. d i f f e r e n t but equally d i s t i n c t categories. Joseph Gold has remarked that "...each character i s recognizable by a d i s t i n c t i v e outlook'.": Benjy i s i r r a t i o n a l ; Jason thinks only i n c l i c h e s ; Quentin i s "s e n s i -6 tive and i n t e l l i g e n t . " Walter S l a t o f f ' s analysis i s based on a simi-la r d i s t i n c t i o n between the three brothers J According to John L. Longley, "Jason embodies the i n s t i n c t i v e , i r r a t i o n a l love of s e l f , the monstrous, incestuous self-concern that leaves no room for love of 8 others." Quentin is "weak, d e f e a t i s t , " l a c k i n g a w i l l to f i g h t and so his i s "...the s e l f - i n f l i c t e d death of so much s e n s i t i v i t y and 9 perception." On the other hand," Benjy's c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s are stead-fastness, l o y a l t y , and a constancy toward the things he loves..., arid he i s too retarded to r e a l i z e these q u a l i t i e s do not pay." 1^ Walter Brylowski's mythic^categories, according to which Benjy represents "pre-mythic thinking," Quentin, "mythic thinking," and Jason, " r a t i o n a l -empiric thinking" are equally misleading. Brylowski's d i s t i n c t i o n turns on the mythic q u a l i t y of i d e n t i f i c a t i o n of the perceived object and the perceiver, the ide a l and the r e a l . In f a c t , a l l three brothers i d e n t i f y the perceived object with the perceived s e l f , and the basis of their f a i l u r e i s that the c e n t r a l object i s a human being who must ^ Joseph Gold, op_. c i t . , p. 27. 7 S l a t o f f , op_. c i t . , pp. 149-151. Q John L. Longley, The Tragic Mask; A Study of Faulkner's Heroes (Durham, North Carolina, 1957), p. 144. 9 I b i d . , p. 221. ^ I b i d . , p. 222. change and who cannot or w i l l not be dominated by an external w i l l . Benjy's and Quentin's s e l f - d e f i n i t i o n s are grounded i n their perceptions of Caddy; when she changes, their i d e n t i t y must either change or be destroyed. Jason's perception of himself includes a perception of Caddy v i a Miss Quentin. In his section there are several references to the ties of blood and the r e s p o n s i b i l i t e s which that e n t a i l s . ^ The c e n t r a l concern here i s that Jason's self-concept depends on his r o l e i n the community which, as he sees i t , depends on Miss Quentin's actions. In e f f e c t , then, she becomes a c e n t r a l part of Jason's per-ception of himself. The second and more important reason ;for introducing the analysis i s that the a l l u s i o n s tb^ the C h r i s t i a n myth i n each of these three sections of the novel are d i r e c t l y r e l a t e d to the main sphere of concern i n the section. Further, i t i s exactly because of their extremely l i m i t e d perceptions that none of the Compsons can be the savior of himself or of anyone e l s e . The voicings of their r i g i d stands are also their pronouncements of self-damnation. Each of the sons of Jason Compson I I I i s , to varying degrees, i n -capable of operating e f f e c t i v e l y i n society, andsthe basic reason for that i n a b i l i t y i s that each demands that society, or at l e a s t as much of i t as d i r e c t l y concerns him, f i t into his p a r t i c u l a r ordered-system of thought. In other words, each attempts to make the external world conform to his w i l l ; each i s completely egocentric, and Benjy's narcissus 1 1 See pages 199, 227, 237, 247, 260, and 263. and the mirror and water-reflections become thematic symbols of the involuted nature of the three sons and their basic opposition to change. Some c r i t i c s , following Faulkner's statements i n the Appendix to the novel and elsewhere i n interviews, have seen Benjy as a kind of 12 norm, but one can see that his demands are even more stringent and b a s i c a l l y s t a t i c than either Quentin's or Jason's. Benjy demands that everything be " i n i t s ordered place" and i f i t is not, he bellows i n protest. According to the Appendix, he loved Caddy; but his love, i f one can r e a l l y c a l l i t that, i s quite c o n d i t i o n a l , f o r she must con-form to the patterns that have been established. So when Caddy smells of perfume, has been with another male, i s dressed d i f f e r e n t l y as she i s f o r her wedding, Benjy c r i e s . He protests any change whatsoever, and he, as much as Quentin, would keep Caddy from her natural growth into sexual maturity. S i g n i f i c a n t l y , Benjy reacts as Quentin does to Caddy's symbolically muddy drawers; "Caddy was a l l wet and muddy be-13 hind, and I started to cry and she came and squatted i n the water." Benjy's concept of order i s , of course, extremely elemental and i s based on p h y s i c a l appearances alone. His responses to Caddy are basi-c a l l y of the same nature as his response to d r i v i n g to the l e f t of the 12 See, f o r example, Sumner Powell,"William Faulkner Celebrates Easter," Perspectives, II (1949), 195-218; Maurice Bassan, "Benjy at the Monument," English Language Notes, II (1964), 46-50; and M i l l e r Maclure, " A l l e g o r i e s of Innocence," Dalhousie Review, XL (1960), 145-156. 13 William Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury (New York, [1929] 1956), p. 38. A l l further references w i l l be to this e d i t i o n and w i l l appear paren-t h e t i c a l l y within the text. monument: his s t a s i s i s upset and therefore his s e c u r i t y i s threat-ened. In one important sense, Benjy i s b a t t l i n g time as much as Quentin or Jason, because his demands for physical s t a s i s are com-p l e t e l y contrary to the natural order of growth and decay. He has stopped growing at one moment of time, "He been three years old t h i r t y years" (p. 36), and his one desire i s that everything else do likewise. Benjy i s li m i t e d i n his sphere of a c t i v i t y ; he cannot r e a l l y act to change things because he has no concept of the pos-s i b i l i t y of change. He cannot impose his personality on events, be-cause he has no person a l i t y . He can only scream when his pattern i s d i s t o r t e d , and of such screams there i s an abundance. Quentin's demand for order i s based not on phy s i c a l appearances but on a metaphysical concept of v i r t u e or honour which he sees as a method of combatting the "saddest word," "temporary." His monologue, therefore, i s to a large extent a remembered dialogue with his father, the incurable a l c o h o l i c and cynic. His monologue i s a recounting of his attempt to do that which his father counselled him to avoid: I t was Grandfather's watch and when Father gave i t to me, he sai d , Quentin, I give you the mausoleum of a l l hope and desire;...I give i t to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget i t now and then for a moment and not spend a l l your breath trying to conquer i t . (p. 95). Just as Caddy i s one of the centers of Benjy's world, she also serves as the point around which Quentin would draw his f i x e d c i r c l e . More p a r t i c u l a r l y , i t i s Caddy's v i r g i n i t y , the " t h i n membrane" which Quentin has chosen to be the touchstone of his concept of Compson honour. But i t i s more than j u s t honour, because this i n turn becomes wrapped up i n Quentin 1s b a t t l e to assert, against the continual stream of negation from his father, some i d e a l , some values which e x i s t above the temporary world of constant motion and change. Quentin desires "...something among dusty shelves of ordered ce r t i t u d e long divorced from reality'! (p. 144). The f i r s t hint of Quentin's obsession with morality a c t u a l l y occurs i n Benjy's section. The scene occurs at the branch, and Caddy and Quentin, who were then quite young, get wet and taunt one another with the threat of impending parental admonition. To solve her problem, Caddy announces that she w i l l take.her dress o f f , and Quentin's tone quickly changes from c h i l d i s h teasing to extreme seriousness: 'It's not wet,' Caddy sai d . She stood up i n the water and looked at her dress. ' I ' l l take i t o f f , ' she s a i d . 'Then i t ' l l dry.' 'I bet you won't,' Quentin sa i d . 'I bet I w i l l , ' Caddy s a i d . 'I bet you better not,' Quentin sa i d . Caddy came to Versh and me and turned her back. 'Unbutton i t , Versh,' she s a i d . 'Don't you do i t , Versh,' Quentin s a i d . . . 'You j u s t take your dress o f f , ' Quentin sa i d . Caddy took her dress off and threw i t on the bank. Then she didn't have anything on but her bodice and drawers, and Quentin slapped her and she slipped and f e l l down in the water. When she got up she began to splash water on Quentin, and Quentin splashed water on Caddy...'Now I guess you're satis-; f i e d , ' Quentin sa i d . 'We'll both get whipped now.1 (pp. 37-38; emphasis mine.) This scene i s a c t u a l l y representative of Quentin's desires as he expresses them l a t e r . His wish i s to keep Caddy v i r g i n a l . Since she w i l l not com-p l y with that, as she refuses to keep her dress on i n the above scene, he then wishes f o r a recognition of the v i o l a t i o n of the moral code; he 14 demands the punishment. The c h i l d i s h words, "We'll both get whipped now," are repeated a number of times i n Quentin's own section i n his ex-pressed desire to remove himself and Caddy from the changing world into s t a t i c p u r g a t o r i a l flames: " I f i t could just be a h e l l beyond that; the clean flame the two of us more than dead. Then you w i l l have only me then the two of us amid the pointing and the horror beyond the clean flame" (p. 135; see also pp. 136 and 167). Quentin's desire to ba t t l e against the c y n i c a l n i h i l i s m of his father's philosophy is complicated by his psychological problems which border on a neurosis concerning sex. His metaphysics are perverted by his emotional maladjustment. He cannot cope with sexual maturity, and he would, i f pos 7 s i b l e , completely deny his own sexuality: I t ' s not not having them [ g e n i t a l s j . I t ' s never to have had them then I could say 0 That That's Chinese I don't know Chinese. (P. 135). Of course, Quentin does have "them" but he i s unable to assimilate his sexual role into his view of himself. Thus sex becomes an obsession with him, and he becomes psyc h o l o g i c a l l y impotent. He i s so repulsed by his f i r s t sexual encounter with Natalie that he wallows i n mud and then washes ^ Another prime example of Quentin's personal ba t t l e i s found i n his con-f r o n t a t i o n with Caddy's fianc e , Herbert Head, whom Quentin rej e c t s because Herbert has v i o l a t e d the code of. honour by cheating at Harvard. Herbert, sounding rather l i k e Quentin's father, says, "...a young fellow l i k e you would consider a thing of that sort a l o t more serious than you w i l l i n f i v e years." Quentin responds to this i n his a s s e r t i v e and i n f l e x i b l e manner: "I don't know but one way to consider cheating I don't think I'm l i k e l y to learn d i f f e r e n t at Harvard" (p. 127). the mud off i n an attempt to cleanse himself of the f o u l experience. As Melvin Backman points out, Quentin i s incapable of smoking the cigar or of using the gun on Dalton Ames or the knife on Caddy or himself, a l l of which are p h a l l i c symbols, and of thereby asserting his masculinity. 'Quentin's very withdrawal from l i f e roots not from tragic s u f f e r i n g but from p i t i f u l weakness, a d e b i l i t a t i n g p a s s i v i t y and a morbid self-centered-15 ness." In the l a s t a n a l y s i s , Quentin, unable to cope with external re-a l i t y , whether the transience of time or man's sexuality, attempts, through an a s s e r t i o n of his w i l l to define his own r e a l i t y . If Quentin i s to suc-ceed i n denying his father's viewpoint i n this way, he must f i r s t succeed i n imposing his w i l l on others. Therefore, since he f a i l e d to keep Caddy pure, he attempts to translate her s i n of f o r n i c a t i o n into the heinous crime of incest and thereby invoke a nemesis. He thinks that confessing the yet uncommitted s i n w i l l make i t true just as the boys at the bridge begin to speak of the p r i z e f o r landing the f i s h as i f they had already earned i t : "They a l l talked at once, their voices i n s i s t e n t and contra-d i c t o r y and impatient, making of u n r e a l i t y a p o s s i b i l i t y , then a proba-b i l i t y , then an in c o n t r o v e r t i b l e f a c t , as people w i l l when the i r desires become words" (p. 136). Quentin uses much the same kind of log i c for his and Caddy's "crime": I ' l l t e l l Father then i t ' l l have to be because you love Father then we'll have to go away amid the pointing and the horror the clean flame I ' l l make you say we d i d I'm stronger than you I ' l l make you know we did...(p. 167; emphasis mine). i-> Melvin Backman, Faulkner, the Major Years: A C r i t i c a l Study (Bloom-ington, 1966), p. 106. Quentin's e f f o r t s are doomed to f a i l u r e simply because i t e r a t i o n , how-ever vehement, does not transform desire into f a c t and because motion and change are i n e x t r i c a b l y bound up with the process of l i v i n g . One of the n i c e s t i r o n i e s of Quentin's section r e s u l t s from the compartmenta-l i z a t i o n his mind has undergone. He i s able to speak of his Harvard education as a " f i n e dead sound" (p. 193) and thus voice the same cyni-cism as his father. He i s , however, unable to transfer that same outlook to the sphere of morality; here, he must i n s i s t on the v a l i d i t y of uni-v e r s a l values. Since Quentin's a s s e r t i o n of w i l l does f a i l , he can only defeat his foe, time, and a f f i r m his code of v i r t u e by dying, because i n death he escapes time and his s u i c i d e , l i k e Benjy's bellow, i s his protest against Caddy's v i o l a t i o n of his pattern of order. Jason's monologue, too, i s an account of his attempt to force others to conform to his w i l l . As Benjy i s concerned with .the phy s i c a l order of his world and Quentin with the metaphysical, Jason i s concerned with s o c i a l order, with the appearances of r e c t i t u d e . Though he continues to operate i n the f l u c t u a t i n g world of business and the stock market, time has v i r t u a l l y stopped for him at that moment eighteen years ago when Caddy l e f t Herbert and l o s t him his promised job i n a bank. Caddy's loss of v i r t u e marks a turning point i n Jason's l i f e . He, l i k e the others, has no consideration of Caddy's own anguish and turmoil, but only of his l o s s . Therefore, Jason i s obsessed with revenge, and, as Olga Vickery indicates, Caddy's daughter, Quentin, becomes the substitute on whom Jason can spend his bitterness and wrath, and from whom he can obtain r e t r i b u t i o n . Jason, too, i s ju s t as vociferous as Benjy and Quentin, and his ego c e n t r i c i t y i s evident throughout his section of the novel i n his continual r e p e t i t i o n of " l i k e I say," which is in v a r i a b l y followed by an i n f l e x i b l e statement of his own d e f i n i t i o n of order. His section of the novel opens with such a statement: "Once a b i t c h always a b i t c h , what I say" (p. 198); there follows a continual stream of absolute statements.'''7 One of Jason's main concerns i s with his s o c i a l status which i s based on maintaining appearances, and as Quentin i s engaged i n negating his father's viewpoint, Jason i s af f i r m i n g his mother's. At the beginning of his monologue, Jason repeats his mother's words and thereby sets the tone f o r much that is to follow: 'But something must be done,' she says. 'To l e t people think I permit her to stay out of school and run about the s t r e e t s , or that I can't prevent her doing i t . ' (p. 200). During his monologue, Jason restates this basic a t t i t u d e at le a s t eight 18 times. The p o s i t i o n that he takes i s based on hypocrisy, because i t i s not the fact s themselves which matter, but rather what people think the facts are. As Jason himself remarks when speaking to his niece, '"I don't care what you do, myself,' I says, 'But I've got a p o s i t i o n i n this town, and I'm not going to have any member of my family going on l i k e a nigger wench..." (p. 207). Jason i s never concerned with people as human beings, 16 Olga Vickery, op_. c i t . , p. 31. 1 7 See, for example, pp. 212, 215, 244, 250, 256, 265, 267, 280. 18 See, f o r example, pp. 207, 249, 250, 251, 257, 258, 259, 260. but as objects which i n e v i t a b l y r e f l e c t upon him and, of course, Miss Quentin i s the center of his concern because she threatens to throw his s o c i a l order into chaos through her i n d i s c r e e t actions. As Jason rather r e v e a l i n g l y .states to Miss Quentin, "You've got to learn one thing, and that is that when I t e l l you to do something, you've got to do i t " (p. 232). However, again l i k e Quentin, a psychological malady a f f e c t s Jason's weltanshauung and his behavior becomes compulsive. Thoroughly intermixed with his s t r i v i n g s to keep his family s o c i a l l y acceptable is Jason's r e a l obsession with money. As with so many of Jason's statements, his aphorism on monetary values i s belied by his actions. In his ruminations about his paramour, he says, "After a l l , l i k e I say, money has no value; i t s j u s t the way you spend i t . I t don't belong to anybody, so why try to hoard i t " (p. 212). But of course, Jason is_ hoarding the money which Caddy sends f o r Miss Quentin's support and which Mrs. Compson believes she burns i n her monthly r i t u a l . He keeps i t i n a locked box inside his locked c l o s e t i n his room which he also keeps locked. Further, on the day on which his monologue takes place, he a c t u a l l y counts the money twice, once before he pursues Quentin and the man with the red t i e and once before he goes to bed. When we understand where Jason's-money comes from, we also begin to see the complexities i n Jason's r e l a t i o n s h i p with Miss Quentin. He treats her so c r u e l l y not just because she f l o u t s family honour but because she is a constant reminder of his l o s t oppor-tunity. In a sense, much of Jason's harshness and vi c i o u s teasing i s purely v i n d i c t i v e ; he i s attempting to get back at Caddy through her daughter. His section i s l i b e r a l l y sprinkled with passages which show his enduring bitterness and his strong a s s o c i a t i o n of Quentin with the l o s t job: "Then when she sent Quentin home for me to feed too I says I guess that's r i g h t too, instead of me having to go way up north f o r a job they sent the job down here to me..." (p. 214). In the pas-sage describing Jason's treachery to Caddy when she wanted to see her c h i l d his revenge motive i s emphasized; I says I reckon t h a t ' l l show you. I reckon y o u ' l l know now that you can't beat me out of a job and get away with i t . . . A f t e r she was gone I f e l t better. I says I reckon y o u ' l l think twice be-fore you deprive me of a job that was promised me (p. 223-224). Miss Quentin, then, i s the f o c a l point of Jason's obsessions--his desire for revenge, his l u s t f o r money and his rage f o r s o c i a l order. These three elements impinge upon one another e f f e c t i v e l y paralyzing Jason and rendering him almost t o t a l l y incompetent. Because of his secret a c t i v i -t i e s and his necessar i l y divided attentions, Jason i s successful at l i t t l e that he attempts. He cannot do his job at the hardware store because he is chasing a f t e r Quentin, making the preparations f o r extorting her money, and playing the cotton market. He can neither s u c c e s s f u l l y manipulate the stocks nor keep up with Quentin because of the other a c t i v i t i e s . He can-not even drive his own car, which he also obtained through deception, be-cause of his psychosomatic a l l e r g y to gasoline. Jason's attempt to assert his concept of order f a i l s j u s t as Benjy's and Quentin's do. Unlike the other two, however, Jason a c t u a l l y defeats himself; Quentin and Benjy make unreasonable demands based on an inadequate perception of r e a l i t y , but Jason's demands, though perhaps s u p e r f i c i a l l y r a t i o n a l , are f i n a l l y negated because he has an inadequate perception of himself. He views himself as t o t a l l y s e l f - r e l i a n t , as the bread-winner f o r the remnant of the Compson family. In a c t u a l i t y , his success, such as i t i s , stems from Earl's sympathy f o r his mother i n keeping him on at the hardware store, and on Caddy's monthly cheques. Jason i s being more t r u t h f u l than he r e a l i z e s when he says i n his imagined conversation with Quentin, "...1 haven't got any money; I've been too busy to make any" (p. 261). His completely compartmentalized thinking and his programmed responses per-mit him to be unaware of his own blatant inconsistencies. He can chide Job for being lazy, slow and incompetent while he himself spends a l l but a few minutes of the day running madly around J e f f e r s o n . He schemes and cheats both his mother and Quentin, and yet he can say, " I f there's one thing gets under my skin i t ' s a damn hypocrite" (p. 246). He har-rangues Quentin f o r besmerching the family name and yet i s impervious to the f a c t that he himself commands l i t t l e respect from his fellow towns-people. Jason l i v e s i n a world of s e l f - d e l u s i o n and the statement i n the Appendix that he was "...the f i r s t sane Compson since before Culloden" (p. 16) surely must be one of the most i r o n i c statements i n the novel. As I stated e a r l i e r , the references to the C h r i s t i a n myth i n each of these sections d i r e c t l y r e f l e c t the main area of concern i n the section as outlined above. Benjy's section contains several apparent a l l u s i o n s to C h r i s t and to Christmas. Each of the references, however, concern only physical aspects. We are t o l d several times that Holy Saturday i s Ben-19 jy's t h i r t y - t h i r d birthday. In f a c t , i t i s one of the f i r s t things that we learn. In the t h i r d paragraph of the novel, Luster says to Ben, "A i n ' t you something, t h i r t y - t h r e e years old, going on that way" (p. 23). Thus, the reader i s cued to look at Benjy as somehow associated with C h r i s t . However, his age alone, a phy s i c a l c h a r a c t e r i s t i c , i s a l l that q u a l i f i e s him to be a type of C h r i s t . He has not the necessary aware-ness to f u l f i l l the r o l e completely. Other a l l u s i o n s i n this s ection also tend to undermine that a s s o c i a t i o n . The references to Christmas emphasize the coldness of the day: "Keep your hands i n your pockets, Caddy s a i d . Or t h e y ' l l get f r o z e . You don't want your hands froze on Christmas, do you" (p. 24; see also p. 32 on which this sentence i s repeated). The phy s i c a l nature of these references are i n keeping with Benjy's pesonality, because he can respond only to physical sensations. S i m i l a r l y , i t i s only i n his physical presence that Benjy can serve any of the functions of C h r i s t ; that i s , the characters i n the novel are judged according to th e i r response to Benjy j u s t as i n the C h r i s t i a n re-l i g i o n people are judged according to th e i r response to C h r i s t . But this i s , at best, a negative function. Quentin's section i s more complex i n i t s use of C h r i s t i a n a l l u s i o n s , and necessarily so since Quentin, despite the s i m i l a r r i g i d i t y , i s a f a r more complex pe r s o n a l i t y than Benjy. The a l l u s i o n s n i c e l y mirror Quentin's See pages 23, 24, 36 and 68. own concerns, f o r they refer only to that portion of the myth con-cerned with s i n or impurity and r e t r i b u t i o n . There are a c t u a l l y three types of references which r e f l e c t this one overriding i n t e r e s t . The f i r s t i s the set of a l l u s i o n s to C h r i s t and St. Francis which involves a transference of associated ideas. Quentin i s , as stated e a r l i e r , obsessed with the impurity of his l i t t l e s i s t e r , Caddy, and because of her impurity and the lack of r e a l r e t r i b u t i o n f o r i t , he i s committing s u i c i d e . So, Caddy becomes Quentin's f i g u r a t i v e p a r a l l e l to St. F r a n c i s 1 " l i t t l e s i s t e r death." But, paradoxically, both Jesus and St. Francis are per-f e c t examples of the p u r i t y which Quentin considers himself incapable of a t t a i n i n g simply because he i s a sexual being. The f i r s t such i n d i c a t i o n appears immediately a f t e r Quentin's opening thoughts about his watch; "Like father said down the long and lonely l i g h t rays you might see Jesus walking, l i k e . And the good Saint Francis that said L i t t l e S i s t e r Death, that never had a s i s t e r " (p. 96). Or again, only two pages,later, Quen-t i n hears the b e l l chime the hour and thinks, " I t stayed i n the a i r , more f e l t than heard, f o r a long time. Like a l l the b e l l s that ever rang s t i l l r i n g i n g i n the long dying l i g h t - r a y s and Jesus and Saint Francis t a l k i n g about his s i s t e r " (p. 98). So the references to C h r i s t and St. Francis are linked with the phrase "who had no s i s t e r " (p. 190), as i f Quentin were i n this way r a t i o n a l i z i n g the f a i l u r e of his world and his s u i c i d e . For Quentin, these allu s i o n s , s e r v e as examples of the unattainable p u r i t y associated with the now l o s t t r a d i t i o n of v i r t u e and honour within a s t r i c t moral code. Since Quentin cannot force such immutable standards upon the world around him, these a l l u s i o n s represent a paradise l o s t and are also, therefore linked with the t i c k i n g of timepieces: Father said that. That C h r i s t was not c r u c i f i e d ; he was worn away by a minute c l i c k i n g of l i t t l e wheels, (p. 96) The watch ticked on. I turned the face up, the blank d i a l s with l i t t l e wheels c l i c k i n g and c l i c k i n g behind i t , not knowing any better. Jesus walking on G a l i l e e and Washington not t e l l i n g l i e s . (p. 99) These a l l u s i o n s , f i l t e r e d through Quentin's mind, are i n d i c a t i v e of the unbearable temporality and uncertainty which he i s f i g h t i n g . A second group of a l l u s i o n s contains the three instances i n which Quentin associates Benjy with the B i b l i c a l story of Benjamin, Jacob's 20 youngest son. In one sense, the a l l u s i o n s are d i r e c t l y r e l a t e d to the s e l l i n g of Benjy's pasture to obtain the money to send Quentin to Harvard. Or, as Quentin states, apparently repeating his father's words, Let us s e l l Benjy's pasture so that Quentin may go to Harvard and I may knock my bones together...I have sold Benjy's pasture and I can be dead i n Harvard... because Harvard is such a f i n e sound f o r t y acres i s no high p r i c e f or a f i n e sound. A f i n e dead sound we w i l l swap Benjy's pasture for a f i n e dead sound, (p. 193). In the B i b l i c a l story, Benjamin's freedom was exchanged for wheat; he was held hostage by his eldest brother, Joseph. However, the B i b l i c a l story i s a l s o applicable to the novel i n a much more profound sense. Benjamin's father, who i s c a l l e d I s r a e l , i s representative of the Hebrew nation. He was presiding over a s t e r i l e , famine-stricken land, and to ameliorate the We have been prepared for this by Caddy's remark i n the f i r s t section that Maury's new name, Benjamin, i s from the Bible (p. 77). s i t u a t i o n , Jacob, or I s r a e l , sent his sons to Egypt to obtain food. They did so only at the p r i c e of Benjamin's freedom, and ultimately, of course, the p r i c e i s much greater: the freedom of a l l the I s r a e l i t e s , because they eventually moved to Egypt to escape the waste land which the promised land had become. Jacob's cry of anguish upon learning of Ben-jamin's fate i s the cry which Quentin's words echo: Benjamin the c h i l d of mine old age bellowing... Benjamin the c h i l d of. How he used to s i t before that mirror. Refuge u n f a i l i n g i n which c o n f l i c t tempered sil e n c e d reconciled. Ben-jamin the c h i l d of mine old age held hostage into Egypt, 0 benjamin...Benjamin, Benjamin the c h i l d of my sorrowful...(pp. 107, 188, 190). Quentin connects Benjy with each of the losses which he most deeply f e e l s . In the f i r s t of the above quotations, Benjy i s bellowing for Caddy at her wedding. The second occurs as Quentin looks at the r i v e r and i t appears as "pieces of broken mirror." He associates this with the mir-ror which was Benjy's refuge. That mirror was apparently sold to help provide money for the wedding. Quentin s mirror, the r i v e r , i s now his only refuge. The l a s t part of the quotation immediately precedes Quentin's thought, " . . . i f I'd j u s t had a mother so I could say Mother Mother..." (p. 190). Through i t s associations i n Quentin's mind, this a l l u s i o n becomes a symbol of Quentin's bondage, his i n a b i l i t y to act to gain his s i s t e r or the r e c o n c i l i a t i o n through r e t r i b u t i o n or his mother's love; "...the dungeon was Mother herself she and Father upward into weak l i g h t holding hands and us l o s t somewhere below even them without even a ray of l i g h t " (p. 191). Quentin, unlike the Hebrews, has no Moses to lead 2T On p. 272 Jason speaks of the Benjy f e e l i n g the place on the wall where the mirror used to be. him out of his Egypt. Further, i t is s i g n i f i c a n t that i n one reference to Moses, who i s a type of C h r i s t , Quentin e f f e c t i v e l y denies any con-cept of s a l v a t i o n connected with Moses, and Moses 1 rod becomes almost perversely p h a l l i c : ...hands can see cooling fingers i n v i s i b l e swan-throat where less than Moses rod the glass touch tentative not to drumming lean cool throat drumming cooling the metal the glass f u l l o v e r f u l l c o o l i n g the glass the fingers f l u s h i n g sleep leaving the taste of dampened sleep i n the long s i l e n c e of the throat. (p. 192). Although the a s s o c i a t i i o n s i n the passage are quite complex, one can e a s i l y see that they a l l r e f e r to Caddy. The whole passage refers to Quentin's memory of awaking i n the night, f e e l i n g suffocated by the odor of honeysuckle, which i s linked with thoughts of Caddy's defilement and "came to symbolize night and unrest" (p. 188). So he gets up and goes to the bathroom to get a glass of water. The "swan-throat" and "drumming" refer to the incident i n which Quentin asks Caddy i f she loves Dalton Ames. She t e l l s him to put his hand on her throat and say Dalton's name; put your hand against my throat she took my hand and held i t f l a t against her throat now say his name Dalton Ames I f e l t the surge of blood where i t surged i n strong a c c e l e r a t i n g beats... say i t again Dalton Ames her blood surged s t e a d i l y beating and beating against my hand (p. 182). The swan image i s there as a r e s u l t of Gerald Bland's rather uncompli-mentary reference to the l u s t i n the coupling of Leda with Zeus i n the form of a swan, "Leda lurking i n the bushes, whimpering and moaning for the swan" (p. 185), which Quentin then associates with Caddy's l u s t . The passage as a whole i s symbolic of Quentin's desire to " c o o l " Caddy's l u s t , j u s t as the water which he i s getting w i l l remove his f e e l i n g of su f f o c a t i o n and as Moses' rod, with which he struck the rock i n the wilder-ness, quenched the t h i r s t of the wandering Hebrews. Thus, the "rod" and the "drumming" and the water " f u l l o v e r f u l l " aire suggestive of an or-gasmic experience. Simultaneously, the water, as i n the r i v e r and the branch, is linked with Quentin's wish f o r p u r i f i c a t i o n f o r himself and Caddy. This p u r i f i c a t i o n can be attained, i t would seem, through Quen-tin's use of Moses' rod either as phallus to consummate the incest he so strongly wishes f o r and thus bring about the "horror beyond the clean flames," or as a symbol of moral authority to force Caddy to r e f r a i n from indulging her l u s t f u l d esires. In either case, Quentin f a i l s . The t h i r d group of a l l u s i o n s , which r e f e r more d i r e c t l y to the pun-ishment of s i n , centers on the beginning and end of the C h r i s t i a n world, Eden and Christ's second coming. As mentioned e a r l i e r i n this chapter, Quentin repeats his wish that he and Caddy be punished and cleansed i n 22 p u r g a t o r i a l flames. Connected with this i s his image of Caddy i n "Eden clothes": ...and f a s t c l u t c h i n g her dress onto her shoulder with the other hand running out of the mirror the smells roses roses the voice that breathed o'er Eden...(p. 100) See pages 135, 136 and 167. ...the curtains leaning i n on the t w i l i g h t her arms behind her head kimono-winged the voice that breathed o'er eden clothes upon the bed by the nose seen above the apple... (p. 124). The chair-arm f l a t cool smooth under my fore-head shaping the chair the apple tree leaning on my hair above the eden clothes by the nose seen...(p. 132). I t i s obvious from the context of the f i r s t quotation that the "eden clothes" are Caddy's wedding garments, which are, l i k e Adam's and Eve's c l o t h i n g , a covering for s i n , and the voice i s that of God demanding to know why Adam and Eve hid themselves. I t i s the voice of moral authority which Quentin so strongly desires to hear but which i s c e r t a i n l y not f o r t h -coming from his own world. For Quentin, the magnitude of Caddy's i l l i c i t love a f f a i r i s equal to that of the s i n in- the Garden of Eden, for which Adam and Eve were expelled from the garden with "the pointing and the horror beyond the clean flame" of the flaming swords placed at the en-trance to the garden. Quentin has, i f only mentally, tasted the forbidden f r u i t and wants no less a r e t r i b u t i o n than that accorded the f i r s t sinners. In combining a l l u s i o n s to Ch r i s t with those to the Garden of Eden and to purgatory, Quentin shows how much his perception has been d i s -torted. He completely ignores the mercy and love which C h r i s t proclaimed, and he chooses rather to revert to a Hebraic view of God as the wrathful God of the law who exacts judgment. Quentin has no concept of forgiveness; he neither asks f o r i t nor offers i t . Unable to assert his code of ethics and unable to detect any s t a b i l i t y i n l i f e , Quentin, through.his su i c i d e , r e j e c t s the flow of time, which includes the movement toward the apocalypse; And I w i l l look down and see my murmuring bones and the deep water l i k e wind, l i k e a roof of wind, and a f t e r a long time they cannot d i s t i n g u i s h even bones upon the lone-l y and i n v i o l a t e sand. U n t i l the Day when He says Rise only the f l a t i r o n would come f l o a t i n g up. (p. 99; see also pp. 131, 135). ;: This same denial of Christ's function i n the myth re l a t e s several other references to Ch r i s t scattered throughout the sect i o n . In Quentin's rather enigmatic repetitions of the phrases "Three days. Three times" (pp. 112, 192), the "three days" seems to r e f e r , f i r s t , to the date of Caddy's wedding and, then, because of the numerous;references to Ch r i s t i n his section and the Easter week structure of the novel, are also as-sociated with Christ's r e s u r r e c t i o n which occured on the t h i r d day a f t e r his death. .The-" three times," then, ref e r s to the folk'-belief that a drowning man r i s e s to the surface three times before he drowns. So, Quentin denies any sort of redemption f o r himself; he is not going to r i s e on the t h i t d time but sink into the r i v e r , from which only "the f l a t i r o n s w i l l come f l o a t i n g up." Then, a f t e r Quentin returns to his room to clean the blood off his clothes, he speaks c y n i c a l l y of both Negroes and C h r i s t i n one sentence; "The t i e was spoiled too, but then niggers. Maybe a pattern of blood he could c a l l that the one C h r i s t was wearing" (p. 190). From the t o t a l f u t i l i t y of Quentin's s u i c i d e , we surely cannot i n t e r p r e t this as a remark which the narrator intended f o r us to take s e r i o u s l y . From Quentin's own remark only four pages l a t e r , we cannot believe that he even intended i t s e r i o u s l y : [Mother] couldn't see that Father was teaching us that a l l men are j u s t ac-cumulations d o l l s s t u f f e d with sawdust swept up from the trash heaps where a l l previous d o l l s had been thrown away the sawdust flowing from what wound i n the side that not f o r me died not. (p. 194). Quentin's f i n a l reference to C h r i s t i s but a r e p e t i t i o n of his father's extremely c y n i c a l remark, "Watching pennies healed more scars than jesus" (p. 196). The section ends, then, with a negation of the e f f i c a c y of both Christ's death and Quentin's own. S t r u c t u r a l l y speaking, Quentin's section i s remarkably l i k e Soldier's  Pay. In both instances there i s a steady, r e l e n t l e s s movement toward death juxtaposed to the annual renewal of l i f e i n spring. Human s t e r i l i t y , both psychological and p h y s i c a l , i s i r o n i c a l l y contrasted to nature's f e r -t i l i t y . More important, however, i s the j u x t a p o s i t i o n of C h r i s t i a n and other mythological references to r e i n f o r c e the picture of the waste land. As I pointed out e a r l i e r , i n Soldier's Pay, Faulkner uses references to f e r t i l i t y myths to point up the s t e r i l i t y i n the human landscape; none of the l i v i n g characters, Januarius Jones, Joe G i l l i g a n or George Farr, can s u c c e s s f u l l y f u l f i l l the r o l e that Donald Mahon played i n his youth. No one i s able to re-assemble the dead god and restore the land. Only at the end of that novel, i n the Negro church service, are we given a p i c t u r e of the kind of r e i n t e g r a t i o n which can bring s a l v a t i o n . S i m i l a r l y , i n Quentin's section, Faulkner has several scattered references to rejuve-nation myths to point up Quentin's i n a b i l i t y , f i g u r a t i v e l y speaking, to restore the land. The d i f f e r e n c e i n the effectiveness of the two simi-l a r plans, however, i s s t r i k i n g . In Soldier's Pay there are copious references to fauns, satyrs, goats and Venus, but they are not worked into the texture of the story. They are loosely and mechanically dropped into the n a r r a t i v e . In Quentin's section, Faulkner uses f a r fewer such a l l u s i o n s , only four altogether, but the e f f e c t of these c a r e f u l l y placed a l l u s i o n s is much greater and much more subtle than those i n Soldier's Pay_. The f i r s t of these i s to a ballad hero, Lochinvar, who rescues his f a i r E l l e n , about to be married to a "laggard i n love and a dastard i n war." The ballad i s included i n S i r Walter Scott's Marmion. In a con-ve r s a t i o n with Quentin concerning Caddy's wedding, Shreve says, "Young Lochinvar rode out of the west a l i t t l e too soon, didn't he?" (p. 112). Once again, Quentin's r o l e as saviour i s denied him. Then, i n a l a t e r passage, Herbert Head responds to Quentin's threat to inform Mr. and Mrs. Compson of his cheating at Harvard by saying, " T e l l and be damned, then see what i t gets you i f you were not a damned f o o l you have seen that I've got them too tight f or any half-baked Galahad of a bro ther..." (p. 129). In Malory's Morte d'Arthur, of course, Galahad i s the knight who i s able to s u c c e s s f u l l y complete the quest for the Holy G r a i l , restore health to the maimed king and order to the land because he has remained pure and because of his a b i l i t y to detect s i n and act according-l y . Herbert Head's epithet i s most appropriate because Quentin i s blinded by his own moral r i g i d i t y . The f a c t that he cannot see that Herbert has Mr. and Mrs. Compson "too t i g h t " i s quite minor i n comparison to his other errors i n perception. Quentin's i n a b i l i t i e s leave us i n the moral waste land of his father's n i h i l i s t i c views. F i n a l l y , Quentin's section contains two references to the story of Demeter and Persephone, which i s , l i k e the myths used i n Soldier's 23 Pay, a myth concerning a dying and r e v i v i n g god of f e r t i l i t y . In Mrs. Bland's car on the way to the p i c n i c , Quentin thinks, "...the swine of Euboleus running coupled wi t h i n how many Caddy?" (p. 167). Then, when Quentin i s back i n his room and cleaning his clothes, the same image goes through his mind: "...the swine untethered i n pairs rushing coupled into the sea" (p. 195). Euboleus (more frequently s p e l l e d Eubuleus) i s the 24 swineherd who appears i n some versions of the Persephone myth. He was supposedly tending his herd near the place where Pluto captured Persephone, and his herd f e l l into the gulf into which Pluto c a r r i e d Persephone. Since Pluto's kidnapping of Persephone r e s u l t s i n the s t e r i l i t y of the land be-cause Demeter then refuses to f u l f i l l her r o l e as f e r t i l i t y goddess, Quen-tin's use of the myth helps the reader to see that f o r Quentin, Caddy's acts are the cause of the d i s s o l u t i o n of his world. Further, i t i s an act which Quentin, unlike Demeter, i s unable to overcome. No c y c l i c re-juvenation occurs, and for Quentin, decay withers into irredemable death. J . G. Frazer c l a s s i f i e s these two myths as b a s i c a l l y the same kind of myth "...whose t r a g i c story and r i t u a l appear to r e f l e c t the decay and r e v i v a l of vegetation" (The Golden Bough, abriged e d i t i o n (London, J1922J 1967), p. 517). J e s s i e L. Weston sees this kind of myth as the proto-type of the G r a i l Romances. 24 This a l l u s i o n also seems to have overtones of the B i b l i c a l account of Jesus ca s t i n g out the Gadarenian's "unclean s p i r i t s " (see Mark 5. 1-14). In a l l accounts of the story, Jesus, at the behest of the s p i r i t s , casts them into a herd of nearby swine who then rush into the sea and are drowned. The p a r a l l e l i s obvious: Quentin has no such power Over Caddy, but must suf f e r because of his knowledge of her "unclean s p i r i t . " By transposing her s i n into incest, he takes her uncleanliness upon himself and drowns i n the r i v e r . Like the references to Lochinvar and Galahad, and l i k e the a l l u s i o n s i n Soldier's Pay, this mythical reference emphasizes human f a i l u r e and a character's i n a b i l i t y to move out of himself to engage i n any redemp-tiv e a c t i v i t y . Quentin's section by i t s e l f presents no p o s i t i v e element to r e l i e v e the dark v i s i o n of death. On any l e v e l , the t r a n s i t i o n from Quentin's section to Jason's i s abrupt because we leave the quiet f l u i d i t y of Quentin's thoughts and hear the opening, brash, explosive phrase, "Once a b i t c h always a b i t c h , " which captures the tone of the e n t i r e s e c t i o n . Equally remarkable i s the change from Quentin 1s a l l u s i o n - f i l l e d narrative to Jason's s t a r k l y conversational monologue. References to either the C h r i s t i a n or any other myth are prac-t i c a l l y non-existent i n Jason's sec t i o n . They are replaced by a stream of the expletives God, h e l l , and damn used as a u t h o r i t a t i v e confirmation of Jason's own r i g i d views. We have moved from the poignancy of Benjy's howls through the grandiose verbiage of Quentin and his father and now descend to the mundane pattern of Jason's common swearing. Even on this seemingly s u p e r f i c i a l l e v e l of c o l l o q u i a l usage, however, these references are s i g -n i f i c a n t because they are i n d i c a t i v e of Jason's fundamental attitudes and r e f l e c t his obsession with his own f i n a n c i a l and s o c i a l p o s i t i o n and his desire f o r revenge on Caddy. Jason has established himself as the ultimate authority on his family's behavior and as the instrument of r e t r i b u t i o n on Caddy. He does this without questioning either his r i g h t or his motive because he i s convinced of his s u p e r i o r i t y , an idea c a r e f u l l y fostered and 25 nourished by his mother whose utterances are a v a r i a t i o n on that motif. See pp. 218 and 243 which repeat her words, "Thank God you are not a Compson." Just as Quentin constantly ruminates upon his father's words, Jason has absorbed his mother's statements, and he repeats them: "Like she says, thank God i t was you l e f t me" (p. 224). From this i n f l a t e d sense of his own worth and p o s i t i o n , Jason attempts to r e t a i n absolute co n t r o l over the remains of the Compson heritage and family. In t his l i g h t , then, Faulkner's choice from the range of possible expletives n i c e l y mirrors Jason's p e r s o n a l i t y . The juxtapo s i t i o n i n Jason's speech of "God" and " h e l l " reflects/Jason's own absolutely po-l a r i z e d perception i n which there i s no gray area of doubt. Each event and personjis either good or bad according to how well i t f i t s into his pre-determined pattern. The pattern becomes even c l e a r e r when one r e a l i z e s that Jason reserves each expletive for p a r t i c u l a r uses. The expletive "God" or "Lord" i s used when Jason is speaking his own opinions: God knows they'd hold Old Home week when that happened...(p. 205). I says God knows.there's l i t t l e enough room for pride i n this family...(p. 239). Only i f I'm crazy God Knows what I ' l l do about i t . . . ( p . 250). God looks a f t e r Ben's kind, God knows He ought to do something for him...(p. 253). These statements, i n turn, echo his mother's words, "God sees that I am doing right 1! (p. 236). Also, Jason describes part of his p l o t to ensure that Caddy does not see Miss Quentin again without his knowledge as putting "the fear of God into Dilsey" (p. 225). On the other hand, Jason uses " h e l l " or "Damn" i n describing contrary opinions or di s r u p t i v e events, p a r t i c u l a r l y Benjy, the "New York Jews," and Miss Quentin's actions; What the h e l l makes you want to keep /J5enjy7 around here where people can see him? .(p. 204) What the h e l l kind of man would wear a red tie? (p. 249). . . . I ' l l be damned i f i t hasn't come to a pretty pass when any damn foreigner that can't make a l i v i n g i n the country where God put him, can come to this one and take money r i g h t out of an American's pockets, (p. 210). Well, I can stand a l o t ; i f I couldn't, damn i f I wouldn't be i n a h e l l of a f i x . (p. 250). I ' l l make him think that damn red t i e i s the l a t c h s t r i n g to h e l l , i f he thinks he can run the woods with my niece, (p. 259; see also pp. 249, 251, 255, 256). In his own mind, then, Jason has established himself as a f i g u r e equiva-lent to the God of the Old Testament who dicta t e s a r b i t r a r y laws and en-forces them without love or mercy, dooming the sinners to his own hypothet-i c a l h e l l . This picture i s reinforced by the climax of Jason's a c t i v i t i e s which occurs i n the novel's f i n a l s ection. Jason, ac t i n g out his own pe-c u l i a r Quern Q u e r i t i s pageant i n searching for Quentin and his money, see himself "...dragging Omnipotence down from His throne, i f necessary; the embattled legions of both h e l l and heaven through which he tore his way and put his hands at l a s t on his f l e e i n g niece" (p. 322). But, of course, that which he seeks i s not to be found, and Jason's Easter morning quest is unsuccessful. That Jason has no concept of the forces of C h r i s t - l i k e s e l f - d e n i a l and acceptance of others as they are is obvious. When he learns from his mother that the Negroes are going to Easter services which may mean some inconvenience to him, he f i r s t r e p l i e s , "Go where?...Hasn't that damn show l e f t yet?" (p. 295). Then, i n response to Mrs. Compson's usual patient, whining acceptance of g u i l t , he says " Blame you For what?...You never resurrected C h r i s t did you?" (p. 295). As a r e s u l t of his t o t a l l y u n r e a l i s t i c and i n s e n s i t i v e perceptions of both himself and others, Jason i s doomed to f a i l u r e . Rather than being the c o n t r o l l i n g authority, Jason stands as a puny, i n e f f e c t u a l man, s u f f e r i n g from self-induced head-aches, who has accomplished none of his goals, and who cannot even manage to drive his own car back to Jeffe r s o n . Our l a s t view of Jason sees him madly attempting to q u e l l Benjy's howl by co r r e c t i n g the course of the weekly t r i p to the cemetery. He i s not c o n t r o l l i n g , but i n a supreme touch of irony, i s y i e l d i n g to an i d i o t ' s demands for a physical pattern of order. In f a c t , this i s the only remaining order i n the Compson family; a l l else has lapsed into chaos. Faulkner has emphasized the s i m i l a r i t y of Quentin's and Jason's f a i l u r e s , f a i l u r e s stemming from a r i g i d preconception of the order i n l i f e , by emphasizing the Old Testa-ment' s ^ i d e o l o g i c a l p o l a r i t y as c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of the i r thought patterns. Neither can accept for himself or allow others to accept the freedom and r e s p o n s i b i l i t y introduced with the New Testament. Besides the a l l u s i o n s described above, there i s a series of references running through each section l i k e a contrapuntal motif which r i s e s to the foreground and comes to a climax i n the f i n a l scene i n the Negro church. These references are associated with the Negroes i n the Compson family, p r i m a r i l y D i l s e y . In each of the f i r s t three sections, these references are found i n statements of sincere b e l i e f i n the e f f i c a c y of orthodox r e l i g i o n or of sincere concern for others. So, the i r immediate e f f e c t i s to provide a stark contrast to the Compson narrators who are imprisoned within th e i r exclusive perceptual frameworks. In Benjy's section, there are three examples of such references. The f i r s t occurs i n scenes of Damuddy's fu n e r a l . Twice, D i l s e y t e l l s the curious, questioning Caddy that, concerning such things, " Y o u ' l l know i n the Lawd's own time" (pp. 44 and 45). Also, when Roskus i s rambling on about his supe r s t i t i o n s and ominous "signs" of the i l l - f a t e d Compson family, D i l s e y r e p l i e s , "Show TIE the man what a i n ' t going to die, bless Jesus" (p. 49). Then, when Caddy and Dil s e y are discussing the changing of Benjy's name, Dil s e y indicates that f o r her, names have only one important use: " I t ' l l be i n the Book, honey, Di l s e y s a i d . Writ out. Can you read i t , Caddy sai d . Won't have to, Dil s e y s a i d . T h e y ' l l read i t for-me. A l l I got to do i s say Ise here" P. 77). These indications of Dilsey's abiding f a i t h i n the Ch r i s t of the New Testament are p a r t i c u l a r l y prominent i n a sec t i o n i n which chronology has l i t t l e meaning to the narrator who i s concerned only with the pattern of sensations. They i l l u s t r a t e a f a i t h i n an order which negates the importance of temporal events which are i n the d i r e c t c o n t r o l of the God of mercy. The death and change which cause so much anguish because of the chaos they seem to bring are a c t u a l l y welcome signs of one drawing nearer to that instant when he can say, "Ise here." In Quentin's section, there are two passages which produce an equally e f f e c t i v e i d e o l o g i c a l contrast. The f i r s t , though i t contains no reference to the C h r i s t i a n myth, is.part of this pattern i n that i t i l l u s t r a t e s the same kind of s e r e n i t y j I t occurs when Quentin i s returning home from Harvard at the Christmas break; ...there was a nigger on a mule i n the middle of the s t i f f - r u t s , waiting for the t r a i n to move. How long he had been there I didn't know, but he sat straddle of the mule, his head wrapped i n a blanket, as i f they had been b u i l t there with the fence and the road, or with the h i l l , carved out of the h i l l i t s e l f , l i k e a sign put there saying You are home again.... they passed smoothly from s i g h t that way, with that q u a l i t y of shabby and timeless patience, of s t a t i c serenity...(pp. 105-106). This Negro, i n appearing to be "carved out of the h i l l " exudes exactly that which Quentin*is searching f o r ; a sense of immutability or s t a s i s within f l u x . Even though time has elapsed and changes have occurred, represented by the t r a i n i t s e l f , the Negro retains his i d e n t i t y with the land, retains that q u a l i t y of "timeless patience, of s t a t i c serenity." He has none of the unbearable temporality which Quentin longs to deny. S i m i l a r l y , other Negroes are able to reconcile the physical desires, which Quentin wishes to negate, with t h e i r s p i r i t u a l experiences: A brothel f u l l of /jNegroe$7 i n Memphis went into a r e l i g i o u s trance ran naked into the s t r e e t . I t took three p o l i c e -men to subdue one of them. Yes Jesus 0 good man Jesus 0 that good man. (P. 189). Even at the moment of physical f u l f i l l m e n t , or from Quentin's point of view, of r e v e l l i n g i n the sins of the f l e s h , they can respond tb the incarnation of s p i r i t u a l p u r i t y without f e e l i n g any sense of c o n f l i c t . This t o t a l l y b a f f l e s Quentin who has b u i l t f o r himself an either-or world i n which no such r e c o n c i l i a t i o n , or perhaps simple acceptance of opposites can occur. In the novel's f i n a l two sections, both of which portray Jason i n chaotic motion, the references centre on that which i s absent from Jason's make-up, which can best be described by the B i b l i c a l term, lovingkindness. When Jason upbraids D i l s e y for allowing Caddy to see her baby and forbids her to do i t again, D i l s e y says, "You's a cold man, Jason, i f man you i s . . . I thank de Lawd I got mo heart dan dat, even ef h i t i s black" (p. 225). This one simple sentence both pinpoints Jason's psychology and contrasts Jason's off-hand use of God and Lord as expletives with Dilsey's sincere prayer of thanksgiving,for her natural and s e n s i t i v e human responses. There are several other such d i r e c t contrasts i n this section. D i l s e y , harried by the demands from Mrs. Compson on Easter Sunday morning mutters what seems to be a prayer f o r patience to endure, "Oh, Lawd" (pp. 286 and 291). Also, D i l s e y hopes f o r a strong preacher who can "...put de fear of God into dese here t r i f l i n ' young niggers" (p. 306). Dilsey's meaning here i s quite d i f f e r e n t from Jason's when he used the same phrase i n describing his l i e to D i l s e y when he told her Caddy had leprosy. In contrast to Jason's remark, "God looks a f t e r Ben's kind^" which i s f u l l of Jason's brand of rancour and sense of i n j u s t i c e , D i l s e y t e l l s Benjy, simply and f a i t h f u l l y , "You de Lawd's c h i l e , anyway. En I be His'n too, fo long, praise Jesus" (p. 333). F i n a l l y , the scene at the Negro church c l e a r l y encapsulates the d i f -ference i n the forces seen i n the Compson family and those epitomized by the series of references just described. Since i t i s of such importance, I w i l l quote from i t at length. When the v i s i t o r rose^to speak he sounded l i k e a-.white man. His voice was l e v e l and col d . I t sounded too big to have come from him and they l i s t e n e d at f i r s t through c u r i o s i t y , as they would have to a monkey tdking. They began to watch him as they would a man on a t i g h t rope. They even x forgot his i n s i g n i f i c a n t appearance i n the v i r t u o s i t y with which he ran and poised and swooped upon the cold i n f l e c t i o n l e s s wire of his voice, so that at l a s t , when with a sort of swooping g l i d e he came to r e s t again beside the reading desk...the congregation sighed as i f i t waked from a c o l l e c t i v e dream and moved a l i t t l e i n i t s seats... Then a voice s a i d , "Brethren." The preacher had not moved...and he s t i l l held that pose while the voice died.;.It was as d i f f e r e n t as day and dark from his former tone, with a sad, timbrous q u a l i t y l i k e an a l t o horn, sinking into t h e i r hearts and speaking there again when i t had ceased i n fading and cumulate echoes..."I got the r e c o l l e c t i o n and the blood of the Lamb ."...And the con-gregation seemed to watch with i t s own eyes while the voice consumed him, u n t i l he was nothing and they were nothing and there was not even a voice but instead t h e i r hearts were speaking to one another i n chanting measures beyond the need for words, so that when he came to r e s t against the reading desk, his monkey face l i f t e d and his whole att i t u d e that of a serene tortured c r u c i f i x that transcended i t s shabbiness and i n s i g -n i f i c a n c e and made i t of no moment...Dilsey sat b o l t upright...Two tears s l i d down her f a l l e n cheeks, i n and out of the myriad coruscations of immolation and abnegation and time...."I got de r i c k l i c k s h u n eh de blood of de Lamb1." They did not mark j u s t when his intonation, his pronunciation became negroid, they j u s t say swaying a l i t t l e i n t h e i r seats as the voice took them into i t s e l f , (pp. 309-311). This scene strongly reinforces those contrasts described above. I t points up exactly those human q u a l i t i e s lacking i n the Compson family: a sense of communion and a f a i t h i n a reassuring order i n which the unifying force is love. Michael M i l l g a t e has stated that i n contrast to the f i r s t three sections, "The Easter Sunday service i n the Negro church i s immensely moving, an apotheosis of s i m p l i c i t y , innocence and love with D i l s e y and Benjy as 26 the c e n t r a l f i g u r e s . " Olga Vickery's analysis brings her to a s i m i l a r ^ Michael M i l l g a t e , The Achievement of William Faulkner (New York, 1965), P . 102. conclusion; "There is no doubt that D i l s e y i s meant to represent the e t h i c a l norm, the r e a l i z i n g and ac t i n g out of one's humanity; i t i s from 27 this that the Compson's have deviated..." However, what yet remains to be pointed out i s that the diffe r e n c e between the Compson's l i v e s and Dilsey's experience i n the Negro church i s f a r more than an e t h i c a l d i s -s i m i l a r i t y and i s i n d i c a t i v e of more than j u s t the Compson's lack of love. This service embodies a completely d i f f e r e n t epistemology than that prac-t i s e d by the Compsons who, as I have indicated, a l l operate from the same premise; they demand that their perceptions of people and events coin-cide with their r i g i d conception of order. If this i s not the case, then they attempt to re-mold the person or event, as Quentin and Jason do, or they protest u n t i l the appropriate return to s t a s i s i s accomplished, as Benjy does. They cannot simply accept what they experience. In the Negro church, the congregation i s able to f i r s t accept what is a disappointingly p h y s i c a l l y unimpressive preacher and then they f u l l y experience the d i n g l i e h k e i t of the sermon, which as R. P. Adams has noted, " . . . i s a p o e t i c a l l y r h e t o r i c a l development of the emotional pattern of the 28 r e s u r r e c t i o n of C h r i s t . " Reverend Shegog presents a seri e s of images and the congregation c o l l e c t i v e l y experiences those images and imaginatively recreates the essence of the experience described. Reverend Shegog's con-scious c o n t r o l of his r h e t o r i c is i n d i r e c t opposition to the kind of con-t r o l that Benjy, Quentin and Jason d e s i r e . His sermon, though at f i r s t i t draws att e n t i o n to the man and his words, i s designed to lead the congre-27 28 Olga Vickery, op_. c i t . , p. 47. Adams, op_. c i t . , pp. 227-228. gation to something f a r more important than the clergyman's power to shape words. The sermon and the clergyman become only a medium, a method of making an experience palpable, and a l l other sensations are forgotten: "...he was nothing and they were nothing and there was not even a voice but instead t h e i r hearts were speaking to one another i n chanting measures beyond the need f o r words." I t i s at this point that Brylowski should have seen that what he c a l l s "mythic perception" i s taking place. Brylow-s k i , using Cassirer, distinguishes "mythic consciousness," the kind of thinking i n which myths are operable forces, as a merging of the per-ceiver into his perceptions: " I t l i e s i n the essence of mythical thinking," says Cassirer, "that wherever i t posits a r e l a t i o n i t causes the members of this re-l a t i o n to flow together and merge...The stages of time--past, present, future--do not remain d i s t i n c t : over and over again the mythical consciousness succumbs to the tendency and temptation to l e v e l the differences and u l -timately transform them into pure i d e n t i t y . " 7 This same idea has been described i n more immediately comprehensible terms by Owen B a r f i e l d , who terms this kind of perception " p a r t i c i p a t i o n , " by which he means "an extra-sensory l i n k between the p e r c i p i e n t and the representation [perceived objects] so that s e l f and not-self are i d e n t i -30 f i e d i n the same moment of experience." I t i s a recognition of mana or l i f e p r i n c i p l e i n every perceived object. The important point here i s that Brylowski, op_. c i t . , p. 72. 30 Owen B a r f i e l d , Saving the Appearances (London, 1955), p. 180. B a r f i e l d emphasizes that this i s always an imaginative act, and he sees i t as the redemption of man who has detached his perceptions from himself and ido-l i z e d his p a r t i c u l a r , c u l t u r a l l y i n h e r i t e d g e s t a l t . D i l s e y and the r e s t of the congregation are able to accept without reservation and without re-molding i t , an experience i n i t i a l l y external to them. Through this kind of acceptance, they are able to communicate, i n the most profound sense of that word, with one another, and each i n d i v i d u a l i s subsumed into a larger context, that of humanity. This is true unity of s p i r i t and this i s what i s absent from the Compsonsl l i v e s , not because of e t h i c a l d i f f e r e n c e s , but because of th e i r mental r i g i d i t y and lack of the cr e a t i v e imagination which allows true percep-t i o n . Since they cannot understand t h e i r own humanity, they cannot i d e n t i f y with the humanity of Christ's passion of of Caddy's actions. The-profundity of this kind of perception i s shown by Dilsey's words, "I've seed the f i r s t en de l a s t . . . I seed de beginnin' en now I sees de endin" (p. 313). On one l e v e l D i l s e y i s making a profound theological statement. In St. John's apocalyptic v i s i o n i n Revelations, both of these phrases are used. " I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, s a i t h the Lord...I was i n the S p i r i t on the Lord's day and heard behind me a great voice as of a trumpet, saying, I am Alpha and Omega, the 31 f i r s t and the l a s t . . . " Dilsey i s claiming, then, to have communed with the godhead. Indeed, how else could one describe the intense f e e l i n g of utter unity portrayed i n that scene? Equally important, Dilsey can also mean, as has been generally accepted, that she has seen the beginning and end of the Compson family. S t i l l , the essence i s the same: she has had a 31 Revelations 1. 8, 10, 11. The a p p l i c a b i l i t y of these verses here i s quite s t r i k i n g , f o r Dilsey, too, could preface her statement with the words, " I was i n the S p i r i t on the Lord's day." v i s i o n of wholeness which none of the Compsons has allowed himself to perceive. 32 Orthodox C h r i s t i a n i t y i s , as Faulkner has remarked, a useful t o o l and l i t t l e more, and while he i s not being a n t i - C h r i s t i a n , he i s condemning the mechanical, i n f l e x i b l e a p p l i c a t i o n of i t s dogma. In The Sound and  the Fury, the Negro church service portrays the achievement of almost p e r f e c t unity on a human l e v e l . This unity and communion based on the a b i l i t y to lose one's w i l l i n complete acceptance of an experience i s the s o l u t i o n to such destructive fragmentation of the human psyche as seen i n Quentin and Jason. Each of the Compson narrators has i s o l a t e d himself i n his own created world, and before any problems can be met, he must be w i l l i n g to come out of his i s o l a t i o n by f r e e i n g himself from his preconceptions. I t is quite c l e a r that s a l v a t i o n can come only at the i n d i v i d u a l l e v e l . Dilsey's v i s i o n can save no one but Dilsey. Thus, at the end of the novel, we are back i n the world of f r u s t r a t e d quests and harried, meaningless a c t i o n as Jason forces the horse and carriage to perform Benjy's r i t u a l f o r him. C l e a r l y , the scene i n the Negro church i s but a more a r t i c t i c a l l y ma-tured and r h e t o r i c a l l y a r t i c u l a t e d presentation of the c l i m a c t i c scenes i n the three e a r l i e r novels. This i s p r a c t i c a l l y the same Negro service seen at the end of Soldier's Pay, the same enactment of the Passion Week of the heart as described i n Mosquitoes, the same kind of serenity and communion sensed i n the McCallum home i n S a r t o r i s . Like F a i r c h i l d ' s "epiphany," 32 Faulkner i n the University, pp. 17, 68, 86. Dilsey's r e l i g i o u s experience i s an arrested moment of time which i s capable, as i s the runner's b e l i e f i n A Fable, "...of containing a l l of 33 time, a l l of man." I t i s the v i a b l e a l t e r n a t i v e to the oppressive r i g i d i t y of Benjy's, Quentin's and Jason's worlds, an a l t e r n a t i v e i n which the i n d i v i d u a l i s allowed to seek his own mode of self-expression. The C h r i s t i a n a l l u s i o n s associated with the Compsons are i n d i c a t i v e of an Old Testament orthodoxy which establishes l i m i t s and forces the i n -d i v i d u a l to define himself i n terms of those l i m i t a t i o n s . Dilsey's r e l i g i o n provides not d e f i n i t i o n s , but the essence of the man i n C h r i s t . The congregation c o l l e c t i v e l y , but i n their d i s t i n c t i n d i v i d u a l i t i e s , respond to that humanity and see i n i t their own wholeness. In that wholeness i s man's d i v i n i t y . i i With Li g h t i n August, i t i s as i f Faulkner r e a l i z e d the question-ra i s e d by the r e s o l u t i o n of The Sound and the Fury and so addressed himself to a portra y a l of the r o l e of i n s t i t u t i o n a l C h r i s t i a n i t y i n the community. Though L i g h t i n August presents an e n t i r e l y d i f f e r e n t set of characters with o s t e n s i b l y - d i f f e r e n t concerns, and though Faulkner's a r t i s t i c tech-niques d i f f e r markedly, the novel i s c l o s e l y r e l a t e d to The Sound and the  Fury both thematically and s t r u c t u r a l l y . 3 3 A Fable, p. 189. Whereas The Sound and the Fury deals with characters who, by v i r -tue of i n f l e x i b l e perceptual frameworks divorced from r e a l i t y , had iso-lated themselves from the natural f l u i d i t y of l i f e , L ight i n August shows the other side of the coin. Three of the book's major characters, Joe Christmas, G a i l Hightower, and Joanna Burden are i s o l a t e d by a community which accepts as i t s members only those who can meet r i g i d l y defined c r i -t e r i a . L ike Quentin, their behavioral code, i n i t s major aspects, allows no gray area of i n d e c i s i o n , but either accepts or damns to t o t a l a l iena-" t i o n , d e r i s i o n and sometimes actual physical torture, the i n d i v i d u a l who presents himself before i t . Michael M i l l g a t e has already noted this t r a i t , and has remarked that one of the novel's major themes i s "...the demand of organised society and organised r e l i g i o n that the human i n d i v i d u a l act i n 34 s t r i c t accordance with prescribed abstract patterns." Olga Vickery has provided an analysis of those patterns: C o l l e c t i v e l y , J e f f e r s o n is Southern, White, and E l e c t , q u a l i t i e s which have meaning only within a context which recognizes something or someone as Northern or Black or Damned. This a n t i t h e s i s i s p e r i o d i c a l l y affirmed through the s a c r i f i c e of a scapegoat who represents, i n f a c t or pop-ular conviction, those q u a l i t i e s which must be rejected i f J e f f e r s o n i s to maintain i t s s e l f -defined charac ter . . . .The basis of, this pattern is Jefferson's c o n v i c t i o n that the i n d i v i d u a l can only become a member of society by permit-ting himself to be c l a s s i f i e d according to race, c o l o r , geographic o r i g i n , and so on.? Created by man, these categories become crea-tors of man insofar as they e s t a b l i s h s o c i a l i d e n t i f i c a t i o n as the necessary p r e r e q u i s i t e to human existence. The sheer weight of gen-erations, each i n i t s turn conforming to and M i l l g a t e , op_. c i t . , pp. 127-128. therefore a f f i r m i n g this process of public l a b e l l i n g , establishes the labels not only as a matter of t r a d i t i o n but as a kind of revealed truth. What s t a r t s as; a verbal pattern of c l a s s i f i c a t i o n thus becomes a 5^ s o c i a l order not to be challenged or changed. Just as Quentin's i d e n t i t y depends upon a code of honour, Jefferson's i d e n t i t y depends; upon patterns of behavior. Quentin was powerless to force Caddy to accept his code, but society has great power, indeed, and can e i t h e r destroy an i n d i v i d u a l or force him to re-create his l i f e - s t y l e ; the choice, such as i t i s , i s h i s . I t i s the meeting of these two forces, society's w i l l to maintain i t s pattern, the man's w i l l to i n d i v i d u a l i t y and the i n e v i t a b l e v i c t o r y of the former which provides the strong sense of fate that pervades the novel. These are but players i n a r i t u a l as old as society i t s e l f . The i n d i v i d u a l i n p i t t i n g himself against the c o l -l e c t i v e w i l l i s doomed to c e r t a i n death and his struggle w i l l have wrought no change, produced no tangible f r u i t . Against this s p i r i t u a l and physical s t e r i l i t y , Faulkner counterposes, as he does i n Soldier's Pay, S a r t o r i s , and The Sound and the Fury, a dynam-ic natural fecundity. The f e r t i l i t y i n the e a r l i e r novels i s i n the spring landscape; i n L i g h t i n August i t i s embodied i n Lena Grove and therefore 36 has a more f o r c e f u l presentation. While i t i s obvious that Lena, i f not representative of an Earth-mother, i s at l e a s t a kind of incarnation of l i f e ' s generative forces, Faulkner does not f i n d i t necessary to c l u t t e r 35 Olga Vickery, op. c i t . , pp. 68-69 36 While one might object here that Caddy provides such embodiment i n The  Sound and the Fury, I disagree. What kind of f e r t i l i t y p r i n c i p l e allows the mother to bear a c h i l d but denies her the nursing, moulding and shaping of the child? I t must be remembered that Caddy i s not forced but w i l l i n g l y surrenders her c h i l d and i n conversation with Jason, she admits that she is incapable of r a i s i n g i t (see p. 227). his pages with references to various f e r t i l i t y myths as he did so co-piously i n Soldier's Pay. Even R. P. Adams, who examines i n d e t a i l the Demeter-Piersephone myth i n each novel, i s forced to admit the paucity of such mythical overtones here: Faulkner seems, however, to have d e l i b e r a t e l y avoided giving too f i r m a structure to Lena's story. She serves as a representative of pure motion, t r a n q u i l l y natural, confortable, and in e v i t a b l e , completely i n harmony with the mo-tion of l i f e i n the earth.37 Once again, then, we see the now f a m i l i a r counterpart structure i n which the s t a s i s of a closed, exclusive mode of perception leading only to s t u l -t i f i c a t i o n and eventual s u f f o c a t i o n of l i f e i s set against the simple but profound motion, ever extending i t s l i m i t s of a c c e p t a b i l i t y , leading toward the f u l f i l l m e n t of the promise of l i f e i t s e l f . In Light i n August, the imagery associated with those characters suffereing from the exclusive p r i n c i p l e s of the society i s the c i r c l e . Joe Christmas travels i n a c i r -c l e , beginning at Jeffers o n , t r a v e l l i n g around the countryside and re-turning to Jefferson and c e r t a i n death. G a i l Hightower i s trapped inside the c i r c l e - - t h e turning wheels of the v i s i o n of that l a t e afternoon a ha l f -century e a r l i e r . Though he escapes momentarily, he i s too bound to that v i s i o n to free himself; The wheel turns on. I t spins now, fading, without progress, as though turned by that f i n a l f l o o d which had washed out of him, leaving his body empty...so that i t can be now Now.. .38 37 Adams, op_. c i t . , p. 86. 38 William Faulkner, L i g h t i n August (New York, [1932] 1959), p. 466. A l l further references are to this e d i t i o n and w i l l appear p a r e n t h e t i c a l l y with-i n the text. Joanna Burden, too, is inside a c i r c l e , f o r her house i s l i k e the hub of a wheel, the conjunction of "...paths which had been years i n the wearing and which radiated from the house l i k e wheel spokes" (p. 243). Such c i r c l e s define the l i m i t s of acceptance and, l i k e the c i r c l e created by a s p o t l i g h t , serve as v i s u a l symbols of a l i e n a t i o n . In contrast, Lena's l i f e i s a l i n e , perhaps e r r a t i c , s t r e t c h i n g from Alabama to M i s s i s s i p p i to Tennessee and i s i n f i n i t e l y extendable. In Light i n August,one of the ma-jor forces which draws such c i r c l e s of exclusion i s i n s t i t u t i o n a l r e l i g i o n . L i g h t i n August further resembles The Sound and the Fury i n that i t s center of gr a v i t y i s found i n the promiscuous act of a young g i r l . Infcfact, Faulkner's descriptions of the inceptions of these two novels are amazingly s i m i l a r : Well, impression i s the wrong word. It's more an image, a very moving image to me was of the children....one was a g i r l and the g i r l was the only one that was brave enough to climb that tree to look i n the forbidden window....and i t took the r e s t of the four hundred pages to ex-p l a i n why she was brave enough to climb the tree . . . I t was an image, a picture to me, a very moving one, which was symbolized by the muddy bottom of her drawers...And the symbolism of the muddy bottom of the drawers became the l o s t Caddy... 3 9 That story began with Lena Grove, the idea of the young g i r l with nothing, pregnant, determined to f i n d her sweetheart....As I to l d the story I had to get more and more into i t , but that was mainly the story of Lena Grove.^ L i g h t i n August i s Lena's Story i n the same way that The Sound and the Fury i s Caddy's: the novel portrays the manner i n which her l i f e impinges 39 40 Faulkner i n the University, p. 31. I b i d . , p. 74. upon and e f f e c t s the l i v e s of others. Unlike Caddy, however, the changes which Lena brings cause not death, destruction and loss but l i f e and re-juvenation. By her own patient, simple acceptance of a l l things, she can bring others out of their s h e l l s created to f o r e s t a l l the f l u x and i n e v i t a b l e change at the heart of l i f e . One event i n Caddy's l i f e i s used to draw the narrators of The Sound and the Fury together to focus their s t o r i e s on one point so that they b r i l l i a n t l y o u t l i n e each other. One event i n Lena Grove's l i f e i s used as a kind of c i r c u m s t a n t i a l s t r i n g which t i e s a l l of the thematically r e l a t e d characters together, bringing them into proximity f o r comparison. However, i n L i g h t i n August there is no s e c t i o n a l separation of the voices as there i s i n The Sound and the  Fury. Rather, the movement from one character's thoughts to another's, each reported by an omniscient or l i m i t e d omniscient narrator, occurs sometimes within a s i n g l e chapter. These two devices, the s i n g l e author-i a l voice and the lack of technical separation, help promote a kind of s t r u c t u r a l unity which points toward the more profound thematic unity of the more diverse units of the novel. Concomitant with this extension of his study of man i s o l a t e d through perceptual r i g i d i t y and this experimentation i n narrative technique, Faulkner i n t e n s i f i e s his use of the C h r i s t i a n myth, both q u a n t i t a t i v e l y and q u a l i t a t i v e l y . This is r e a d i l y explicable because one of the major subjects, as stated above, is the force of i n s t i t u t i o n a l C h r i s t i a n i t y . There are p r i m a r i l y two kinds of references to C h r i s t i a n i t y i n L i g h t  i n August. The f i r s t consists of a l l the verbal references to God, Christ, and the Church, made f o r the most part by those characters whose l i v e s are t o t a l l y dominated by i n s t i t u t i o n a l r e l i g i o n , at l e a s t as they i n -terpret i t . The second kind is on a d i f f e r e n t l e v e l , that of mythos, and consists of the events i n Joe Christmas.' l i f e which are suggestive of the pattern of Christ's l i f e . F i n a l l y , there i s a sense i n which the Joe Christmas and Lena Grove elements i n the novel merge i n a c r u c i f i x i o n -n a t i v i t y motif, and together they, l i k e the experience i n the Negro church i n The Sound and the Fury, provide a f u l l y developed p i c t u r e of the C h r i s t i a n as an a l t e r n a t i v e to the repressive, s t e r i l e forces of i n s t i t u t i o n a l r e l i g i o n . The f i r s t group of references stems from the family backgrounds of the three major characters and as a r e s u l t , intrude into these characters' l i v e s . Thus, Joanna Burden, Hightower, and Joe Christmas a l l have one thing i n common; they come from a background of r e l i g i o u s f a n a t i c i s m which, because of i t s one d i r e c t i o n a l emphasis has led to psychological aberrations. For Hightower, two factors are important i n his background. The f i r s t i s that he was the only c h i l d of e l d e r l y parents; "When he was born his father was f i f t y years old, and his mother had been an i n v a l i d f o r a l -most twenty years" (p. 442). The second is his father's complete devotion to his r e l i g i o n . The agedness of his parents a c t u a l l y means that Hightower had no parents; his mother he remembers: "...as being only that thin face and the two eyes which d a i l y seemed to grow bigger" (p. 449). Since the present could provide nothing to match his energies, "He grew up among phantoms" (p. 449), he turned to the past which could--the swash-buckling adventures of his grandfather i n the C i v i l War, romanticized and exaggerated by the Negro cook. His grandfather, as rendered by the Negro, grows f a r more r e a l , more f u l l of the dynamism that i s l i f e than his parents to whom "...he was more than a stranger: he was an enemy" (p. 450). So Hightower manages to merge the two f a c t o r s , the heroic, appealing f i g u r e of the grandfather i s r e l i v e d i n the serenity of the Church that he saw i n his father. In s e t t l i n g on this combination, Hightower makes the past his r e l i g i o n and a moment i n a hen house the meditative center of his worship, and the two "...get a l l mixed up with absolution and choirs of martial seraphim" (p. 57). I t becomes incr e a s i n g l y c l e a r that Hightower chose the church as his metier simply because i t would a f f o r d him the peace and the time to pur-sue his obsession with the past. Within the c l o i s t e r e d walls, Hightower could secede from the present, from l i f e which he had never r e a l l y ex-perienced, "...using r e l i g i o n as though i t were a dream" (p. 56). High-tower repeats that he "asked so l i t t l e , " only, "that peace which i s the pro-mise and end of the church" (p. 340). He sees the church not as an active p a r t i c i p a n t i n l i f e but as a sanctuary from i t : "He believed... that i f ever there was shelter i t would be the Church" (p. 453). Thus he t o t a l l y iso-lates himself and allows himself to perceive only the past. As a r e s u l t , he cannot act i n the present to f u l f i l l any ro l e whatsoever because he i s intent on serving only his own needs. When he walks out of the church on that f a t e f u l Sunday a f t e r his wife's s u i c i d e , " . . . h i s face looked l i k e the face of Satan i n the old p r i n t s " (p. 63), simply because he had been using everything, his wife, the church, the congregation, the town, to gain his own ends. A f t e r he s t i r s from his c e l l to act i n the present, to bring f o r t h l i f e and to attempt, however v a i n l y , to save i t , Hightower can remove him-s e l f f a r enough to r e a l i z e his g u i l t , to recognize his motivation, and to accept r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r f a i l i n g God and his wife: And I know that f o r f i f t y years I have not even been clay: I,'have been a s i n g l e ins-tant of darkness i n which a horse galloped and a gun crashed. And i f I am my dead Grandfather on the instant of his death, then my wife, his grandson's wife...the debaucher and murderer of my grandson's wife, since I could neither l e t my grandson l i v e or d i e . . . (p. 465; e l l i p s e s are Faulkner's) But Hightower i s too entrenched to escape from his s t a s i s , his l i v i n g death, back into l i f e . A f t e r such a v i s i o n , such i n s i g h t , he f a i l s again and relapses into his rever i e s : " I t i s as though they had merely waited u n t i l he could f i n d something to pant with, J^ o be reaffirmed i n triumph and desire with, with this l a s t l e f t of honor and pride and l i f e . He hears above his heart the thunder increase, myriad and drumming..." (p. 466). The novel's f i n a l words concerning Hightower show him grasping f o r that sound of the past, " . . . i t seems to him that he s t i l l hears them; the w i l d bugles and the clashing sabres and the dying thunder of hooves" (p. 467). Yet as blameworthy as he i s , the f a u l t rests not with Hightower alone. The townspeople too are g u i l t y of not being able to see beyond th e i r own d e f i n i t i o n of "minister." Hightower outrages their sense of acceptable behavior and i s therefore u t t e r l y rejected. They do not try to under-stand nor to o f f e r assistance. When the minister does not f u l f i l l the expected r o l e , they stop coming to church. They can only c l a s s i f y i t as s a c r i l e g e and proceed to purge i t . As Hightower s u c c i n c t l y states, "they played by the r u l e s . . . " (p. 461). They cannot off e r the c h a r i t y which i s the foundation of the true church. Instead, they react, as did the Jews to C h r i s t , by c r u c i f y i n g the one who breaks those rules because they cannot p i t y , "...since to p i t y him would be to admit self-doubt and to hope for and need p i t y themselves" (p. 347). Thus, Hightower's image of the dead church i s more accurate than he r e a l i z e s . The church i s dead because the people have removed the b e l l which t o l l e d f o r a l l to hear. What remains i s an empty sheel b u i l t of d e f i n i t i v e , i n f l e x i b l e rules which do not allow deviation, human error, human i n d i v i d u a l i t y . He seems to see them, endless, without order, empty, symbolical, bleak, skypointed not with ecstasy or passion but i n adjuration, threat and-;doom. He seems to see the churches of the world l i k e a rampart, l i k e one of those b a r r i -cades of the middle ages planted with dead and sharpened stakes 4 1 against truth and against that peace i n which to s i n and be forgiven which i s the l i f e of man. (p. 461). The same "adjuration, threat, and doom" are the watchwords and legacy of three other fathers i n this novel who have d i s t o r t e d Christ's message. .Joanna Burden's grandfather, Calvin, was a man, though not a minister, who preached to his family, "...composed half of the bleak and bloodless These "dead and sharpened stakes" are obviously r e l a t e d to the " f a l l i n g s p i r e " i n Soldier's Pay which are also symbolic of a d i s t o r t e d . The image i n Light i n August i s j u s t more precise and well developed. l o g i c which he remembered from his father on interminable New England Sundays, and half of immediate h e l l f i r e and tangible brimstone..." (p. 229). Also intermixed with this punitive, C a l v i n i s t i c doctrine i s an a b o l i -t i o n i s t sentiment based on an i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of the Negro as the white man's curse f o r his s i n s . So, Burden taught his son, Joanna's father, "...to hate two t h i n g s . . . h e l l and slaveholders" (p. 229). Then they moved to the South where, because of th e i r a b o l i t i o n i s t doc tine , they were re-jected and Joanna's grandfather and half-brother were k i l l e d . Joanna was then r a i s e d , imbued with the p u r i t a n i c a l doctrine of the wrathful God and mesmerized by the "...black shadow i n the shape of a cross" (p. 239). She f e l t strangled by the l a t t e r and longed for escape, but her father would not permit i t : "You cannot," he s a i d . "You must struggle, r i s e . But i n order to r i s e , you must r a i s e the shadow with you. But you can never l i f t i t to your l e v e l . . . escape i t you cannot. The curse of the black race i s God's curse. But the curse-of the white race is the black man. (p. 240). The C a l v i n i s t i c doctrine of proving one's divine e l e c t i o n i s hereby linked with one's a i d i n g the Negro. Joanna has so thoroughly absorbed both doc-trines that even though she escapes momentarily, l i k e Hightower, she can-not free herself t o t a l l y . She must r i g h t herself with God i n the manner that she has been taught; that i s , she must f i n a l l y i n s i s t that Joe accept the c l a s s i f i c a t i o n dictated by her i n h e r i t e d framework. He must be a Negro and he must repent for his s i n s . Like Hightower, Joanna i s trapped by a set of rules which she accepts. Her death i s the i n e v i t a b l e r e s u l t , be-cause such r i g i d i t y excludes the motion of l i f e and i s exactly what Joe has been f i g h t i n g a l l of his l i f e . E a r l i e r i n Joe's l i f e , two other people had attempted to force him to accept the two r i g i d c l a s s i f i c a t i o n s of "Negro" and "saved." The f i r s t was his grandfather, Doc Hines, who had forged his own insane re-l i g i o n of "womansinning, womanfilth" and the i n f e r i o r i t y of the Negro race. Thus, i t i s , a f t e r a fashion, l o g i c a l that he would see Joe as a representative of the ultimate i n s i n and the prime instrument of divine r e t r i b u t i o n since, i n his mind, Joe's b i r t h combined the two sins of f o r n i -c a t i o n and miscegenation. So, Hines, b e l i e v i n g himself chosen of God to watch the divine workings i n this product of utter s i n subtly casts hints that Joe is a "nigger" thus s e t t i n g i n motion Joe's c r i s i s i n i d e n t i t y . Though his perversion of C h r i s t i a n i t y i s not as p a i n f u l l y obvious as Hines', McEachern, too, i n s i s t s o n y r i g i d l y defined, absolute rules of con-duct; one i s either saved or damned and i t i s easy to discover which: "...there i s you home...You w i l l f i n d food and shelter and the care of C h r i s t i a n people... and the work within your strength that w i l l keep you out of mischief. For I w i l l have you learn soon that the two abominations are s l o t h and i d l e thinking, the two v i r t u e s are work and the fear of God" (p. 135). Indeed, McEachern attempts to force these lessons by main strength upon the c h i l d and l i t e r a l l y whips him u n t i l he loses consciousness i n "teaching" him the Presbyterian catechism. McEachern, l i k e Hines, i n s i s t s that others, p a r t i c u l a r l y Joe, accept his f a n a t i c a l brand of r e l i g i o n . I t becomes ap-parent through word choice how e s s e n t i a l l y a l i k e the two men are. They both use the Old Testament word "abomination" i n describing what they see as s i n , 4 2 they both use the epithet "Jezebel^ the f i r s t f o r Bobbie and the 4 2 See pp. 135 and 360. other f o r the d i e t i t i a n , and they * both, at one point, see themselves as divine instruments whose mission i t i s to destroy s i n . Hines states that God t o l d him, " . . . I have set you there to watch and guard my w i l l . It w i l l be yours to tend to i t and oversee" (p. 351). As McEachern, f o l -lowing Joe, walks into the dance h a l l , the narrator remarks, "Perhaps, i f he were thinking at a l l , he believed that he had been guided and were now propelled by some m i l i t a n t Michael Himself as he entered the room" (p. 190). At l e a s t , McEachern never doubts his authority and a b i l i t y not only to determine what i s s i n , but also to judge and condemn others for sinning. Each conceives himself to be "...the actual representative of the wrathful and r e t r i b u t i v e Throne" (p. 191). I t i s i n Joe's struggle to escape the kinds of c a t e g o r i c a l judgment represented by Hines and McEachern that the second kind of a l l u s i o n to C h r i s t i a n i t y occurs. Walter Brylowski has stated that L i g h t i n August can be viewed as "...a quest on the part of Joe Christmas for i d e n t i t y 44 i n a s o c i e t y that denies i d e n t i t y . . . " I t seems to me, however, that his emphasis i s misplaced; society does not deny i d e n t i t y , i t demands iden-t i t y . I t demands that an i n d i v i d u a l accept the i d e n t i t y imposed by soci e t y i t s e l f . What Joe Christmas i s seeking i s s e l f - d e f i n i t i o n i n a society which w i l l not allow him to escape i t s d e f i n i t i o n of him. Joe's quest can be said to begin when he f i r s t refuses to accept an external d e f i -n i t i o n . When McEachern a r r i v e s at the orphanage to take Joe home, he t e l l s the d i r e c t o r that Joe w i l l take his surname. The narrator then states 4 3 S e e pp. 123 and 191. 4 4 Brylowski, op_. c r t . , p. 116. that Joe "...didn't even bother to say to himself My name a i n ' t Mc-Eachern. My name i s Christmas" (p. 136). The next two chapters of the book record Joe's continuing r e j e c t i o n of McEachern's primary method of d e f i n i t i o n , the Presbyterian Church. Joe works i t so that while he is immersed i n what McEachern considers the greatest s i n , lechery, at night, he gains McEachern's praise during the day. When Joe f i r s t be-gins this nighttime a c t i v i t y , the above words of r e j e c t i o n are repeated to Bobbie: "'Where do you l i v e ? 1 she s a i d . 'In the country? Well, say. What's you name?' 'It's not McEachern, ' he s a i d . 'It's Christmas.;" (p. 172-173). Joe also struggles against accepting either the "white" or "Negro" l a b e l . From his stay at the orphanage and the v i g i l a n c e and secretive a c t i o n of Hines there, as well as the d i e t i t i a n ' s s c ornful remark, Joe absorbs the implication that he i s a "nigger." While l i v i n g with the McEacherns, he savors the idea of confronting Mrs. McEachern that her husband "...has nursed a nigger beneath his own roof, with his own food at his own table" (p. 159). Then, of course, he t e l l s his suspicion of his Negro blood to Bobbie, and when she i s angered by McEachern's out-burst, she lashes back at Joe; "He told me himself he was a nigger... Me f ing for nothing a nigger son of a b i t c h that would get me i n a jam" (p. 204). Joe spends the next f i f t e e n years moving back and f o r t h between the black and white worlds, refusing to accept complete i d e n t i f i c a t i o n 45 with e i t h e r . ^ See Vickery, op_. c i t . , pp. 68-75 for an exhaustive treatment of this aspect of the novel. This i s the background that Joe brings to Jef f e r s o n and to Joanna Burden. These forces operating w i t h i n him r e s u l t i n the homespun analy-s i s that "He never acted l i k e either a nigger or a white man...That was what made the f o l k s so mad" (p. 331), and i n Gavin Stevens' more elab-orate a n a l y s i s , which also centers on Joe's ambivalence. More impor-ta n t l y , i t i s Joanna Burden's insistence that Joe accept the r o l e of Negro and work f o r his race and that he kneel and pray to God f o r atone-ment facf-his wasted l i f e - - h e r insistence that he accept the two d e f i n i t i o n s he has been b a t t l i n g - - t h a t r e s u l t s i n Joe's f i n a l , v i o l e n t , desctuctive act. During his chronicling,- of Joe's struggle, Faulkner includes events and fa c t s which present overtones of the l i f e of C h r i s t . This i s by no means, of course, a c r i t i c a l discovery; this aspect of Joe's character has been treated i n d e t a i l by several c r i t i c s . Beekman C o t t r e l l has pre-sented the most complete treatment of such s i m i l a r i t i e s and has, i n f a c t , pushed the s i m i l a r i t y to i t s ludicrous extreme. C o t t r e l l f i r s t enumer-ates " c e r t a i n facts...which are, indeed, inescapable; Joe's name i s remi-niscent of Christ's and the i n i t i a l s are the same; Joe's uncertain paternity and his appearance at the orphanage on Christmas; and...Joe i s approx-46 imately t h i r t y - t h r e e years of age at his lynching." Then C o t t r e l l states that "...the c e n t r a l story of Joe Christmas does follow the l i f e of Jesus .. .[ both'werejf i f teen years i n formation, then f i f t e e n years i n the world.. . 4 ^ Beekman C o t t r e l l , " C h r i s t i a n Symbols i n Lig h t i n August, Modern F i c t i o n  Studies, II (1956), 207. was hunted, imprisoned and lynched...Joe's f o s t e r mother symbolically washes his fee£' C o t t r e l l also finds that Joanna Burden, whose name is the feminine equivalent of John, i s the "John the Baptist of the story." Byron, Lena and c h i l d are Joseph, Mary and Jesus. Lucas Burch is Judas, Hightower i s P i l a t e , and Percy Grimm i s "...the Roman s o l d i e r who 48 pierced Jesus' side." I t seems obvious that C o t t r e l l 1 s analysis does more d i s s e r v i c e to the novel than i t does service to the reader. I t v i o l e n t l y wrenches the novel from one l i t e r a r y form to another, because i t v i r t u a l l y makes Lig h t i n August into an a l l e g o r y , which i t most obviously i s not. One must also r e j e c t C o t t r e l l ' s analysis because i t i s based on far-fetched, insubstantiated reasoning which takes the events and characters of the novel and commits the c r i t i c a l error of re-shaping them to f i t an^external scheme. One must remember what C o t t r e l l quickly loses sig h t of: not one event i n L i g h t i n August reproduces an event i n Christ's l i f e . Joe i s not born on Christmas eve; he i s not t h i r t y - t h r e e years old when he i s k i l l e d ; he i s not k i l l e d on Friday or even on Sunday; he does not cleanse a church; he does not have a d i s c i p l e ; and his death brings s a l v a t i o n to no o n e 4 9 Rather, the s i m i l a r i t i e s which e x i s t always remain oh the l e v e l of suggestion and i t i s because they do so remain that the novel has such power. When one raises these suggestions to the l e v e l of f a c t and pro-ceeds to i n t e r p r e t the novel i n terms of this f a c t , the r e s u l t is that the o r i g i n a l context is l o s t . ^ C o t t r e l l , op. c i t . , p. 208. 4 8 I b i d . , p. 209. I n c i d e n t a l l y , C o t t r e l l could also have mentioned that Joe s eating of the raw corn while running from the s h e r i f f ' s posse i s roughly p a r a l l e l to Christ p i c k i n g and eating the corn oh the Sabbath while he was attempting to keep away from the angry Jewish leaders. (See Mark, chapter 2 ). Therefore, I once again examine this aspect of Joe's l i f e because even at this date, I must reassert Robert Slabey's opening statement i n his 1960 a r t i c l e on L i g h t i n August; "In no one of the numerous treat-ments of Joe as a " C h r i s t - f i g u r e " i s there a t r u l y adequate or s a t i s -factory discussion of the a r t i s t i c function of Joa...""^ That i s to say, no one has pointed out the very r e a l consistency and pattern of the ref-erences to the C h r i s t i a n myth of which Joe's p a r a l l e l to C h r i s t i s an i n t e g r a l part. C o t t r e l l , f o r example, concludes that "...the theme of both L i g h t i n August and the C h r i s t i a n story i s that the mingling of good and e v i l can bring hope...his story...argues strongly f or an i n e v i t a b l y tragic view of l i f e . " ^ ' ' ' This statement, besides being contradictory, wrongs both the C h r i s t i a n story and L i g h t i n August. The lesson of the Bible has l i t t l e to do with the mingling of good and e v i l ; rather, i t states that hope rests i n the existence of a benevolent, omnipotent and merciful God. But granting that such mingling i s the theme, i f i t brings hope, how can i t also r e s u l t i n a tragic view of l i f e ? In dealing with the same subject, Robert Slabey sees Joe's C h r i s t - l i k e overtones representa-ti v e of the C h r i s t i a n myth but of "the archetypal story of the dying god and his re s u r r e c t i o n , which symbolized the seasonal death and reappearance 52 of vegetation." This, too, seems to wrench the novel's context; with such a strongly C h r i s t i a n background i n the major characters and with the overtones that are present being s p e c i f i c a l l y r e l a t e d to C h r i s t , how can one Robert Slabey, "Myth and R i t u a l i n L i g h t i n August" Texas Studies i n  L i t e r a t u r e and Language, II (I960), 328-349. 5 1 C o t t r e l l , op_. c i t . , 212. 5 2 Slabey, op_. c i t . , 329. deny the importance of that p a r t i c u l a r p a r a l l e l ? Slabey, then, using much of the evidence that C o t t r e l l used, points out the p a r a l l e l s between Adonis and Joe, and I f i n d as much d i f f i c u l t y i n accepting his conclusion that the novel represents "...a s o l i t a r y descent...into the regions of the unconscious followed by a r e b i r t h into a new a t t i t u d e or way of l i f e , 53 a new s p i r i t u a l unity," because at the same time Slabey i n s i s t s that "there may be a N a t i v i t y and a Good Friday but there i s no Easter Sunday... 54 the atmosphere i s s i m i l a r to that of Holy Saturday." Once again, the problem of r e l a t i n g an imposed structure back to the novel's context a r i s e s . Slabey, i n order to provide an adequate explanation, must have i t both ways--there i s a r e - b i r t h , yet C h r i s t has not r i s e n . Walter Brylowski has also treated the subject s i m i l a r l y i n that he re-lates the C h r i s t i a n myth to a more universal pattern: "The primary myth held here i n counterpoint i s that of C h r i s t the c r u c i f i e d scapegoat.... the myth as used by Faulkner holds C h r i s t , the god, to have achieved his ultimate i d e n t i f i c a t i o n with humanity only through the s u f f e r i n g of his 55 death." Brylowski, however, never becomes /more e x p l i c i t than this and, i n f a c t , seems to lose sight of this p r o p o s i t i o n u n t i l the end of the chap-; ter at which time he merely restates i t . R. P. Adams, who sees Christmas not as the novel's protagonist but as Lena's f o i l , comes c l o s e s t to a s s i m i l a t i n g the mythic overtones into the novel's immediate context: 5 3 54 Slabey, op_. c i t . , p. 334. I b i d . , p. 344. ^ Brylowski, op_. c i t . , p. 103. This function [of Christmas]as a f o i l defines his r o l e as a C h r i s t f i g u r e i n a rather s p e c i a l way. He does not represent the C h r i s t of the New Testament, but rather the r i g i d repressive-ness which Faulkner had associated with South-ern Protestant morality...Christmas i s more the helpless v i c t i m of a p h a r i s a i c a l s o c i e t y than C h r i s t was. He i s not only persecuted and k i l l e d ; he i s also corrupted by being made to pattern himself on the models of repression... He i s a mirror image of the s t e r i l i t y that k i l l s him.56 This a n a l y s i s , however, relegates Christmas to a p a s s i v i t y that i s not h i s . He a c t i v e l y rebels against that repression and, i n f a c t , refuses to accept the patterns others create f o r him. Also, part of the d i f f i -c u l t y , as has been the case a l l along, i s Adams' use of the word "rep-resent." I t seems to me that of a l l of Faulkner's characters, Joe i s among the least representative. Faulkner uses over one half of the book providing a thorough examination of the prime factors i n Joe's psychologi-c a l make up. Joe i s f i r s t and foremost a f u l l y r e a l i z e d character i n his own r i g h t and does not represent " r i g i d repressiveness" any more than he represents C h r i s t or Adonis. Once again, then, the problem before us i s one of accounting for the a r t i s t i c function of the overtones of the C h r i s t i a n myth wit h i n the context presented by the novel. I have outlined the context as I see i t e a r l i e r i n my discussion. Joe is caught i n a society which demands that he conform to c e r t a i n prescribed roles and w i l l not allow him to fuse those r o l e s , to be both Negro and white, to be both good and e v i l , to be, i n f a c t , himself. F i n a l l y , he a r r i v e s at Joanna Burden's home and for a time, finds the ac-ceptance he needs. They each have the i r l i v e s during the day, but at night, 56 Adams, op_. c i t . , p. 87. they come together i n their nakedness. In f a c t , when Joanna writes her l a s t note to him, Joe thinks she has forgotten " a l l this damn foolishness" about "niggers and babies" and that they can once more have their separate world i n which "She i s s t i l l she and I am s t i l l I" (p. 257). This tau-tology which allows maximum freedom i s exactly the kind of d e f i n i t i o n that society w i l l not allow. C h r i s t spent his l i f e teaching the doctrine of acceptance of people as they are, the doctrine of "whosoever w i l l to the Lord may come," and i n the sense that C h r i s t fought against the old order of r i g i d , a r b i t r a r y laws which c a r e f u l l y categorized people, Joe i s l i k e C h r i s t . However, Joe discovers that he cannot have such acceptance. What he though was'his sanctuary was only a woman's temporary suspension of her rules to g r a t i f y her physical desires. She must y i e l d to the r e l i g i o n she has been taught and save herself and Joe. Joe reacts to t h i s , as he always did, v i o l e n t l y . He murders Joanna, and the f i r s t days of his trek through the back-country avoiding the law is part of his old pattern of savage re-b e l l i o n and attempted escape from ext e r n a l l y imposed d e f i n i t i o n s . His per-formance at the Negro church i s his cry of desperation at the r e l i g i o n and the l a b e l "black" which the people i n that church have accepted and given credence to, and therefore nourished. Joe climbs into the p u l p i t and begins to curse God, and surely the God he is cursing i s the one represented by the f a n a t i c i s m of Doc Hines, McEachern and Joanna Burden, a god who denies the wholeness of l i f e by i n s i s t i n g that everyone be shaped by the same pre-s c r i p t i o n s f o r behavior, thought and b e l i e f . As Joe stands i n the pul-p i t decrying this kind of r e l i g i o n , he i s crying out f o r the kind of acceptance of the i n t e g r i t y of l i f e seen i n the Negro church services i n Soldier's Pay and The Sound and the Fury. Joe i s cursing the society that accepts only the g u i l t of the knowledge of s i n and therefore cannot have any conception of the ecstasy i n the statement, " I am s t i l l I." However, i n the midst of this reaction, i n the midst of his thus far eminently successful attempt to avoid being captured, Joe changes and begins his walk toward c e r t a i n death. The donning of the Negro's shoes i s the symbol of this change: I t seemed to him that he could see himself being hunted by white men at l a s t into the black abyss which had been waiting, t r y i n g fo r t h i r t y years to drown him and into which now and at l a s t he had a c t u a l l y entered, bearing now upon his ankles the d e f i n i t e and ineradicable gauge of i t s upward moving... He breathes deep and slow, f e e l i n g with each breath himself d i f f u s e i n the neutral gray-ness, becoming one with loneliness and quiet that has never knows fury or despair. "That was a l l I wanted," he thinks, i n a . ..' .-. quiet and slow amazement. "That was a l l , fo r t h i r t y years. That didn't seem to be a whole l o t to ask i n t h i r t y years." (p. 313). Joe r e a l i z e s that he cannot escape the demands of society, so he yields to them. Paradoxically, by making this d e c i s i o n to be bound by society, to accept the r o l e i t has heen thrusting upon him, he i s able to e x i s t , for a time, outside these bounds, because with that d e c i s i o n , he no longer need struggle but can enjoy the remaining days of his freedom. He has a-chieved freedom from the v i c i o u s c y c l e of r e b e l l i o n that has been his l i f e . This newly attained freedom i s indicated by his loss of that ultimate sym-bol of man's l i m i t s , time. "When he thinks about time, i t seems to him now that for t h i r t y years he has l i v e d inside an orderly parade of named and numbered days l i k e fence pic k e t s , and that one night he went to sleep and when he waked up he was outside of them...Time, the spaces of l i g h t and dark, had long since l o s t o rderliness" (pp. 314-315). The implication here is that Joe r e a l i z e s , perhaps subconsciously, that this orderliness represented by the hours and days of measured time i s the foundation, the e s s e n t i a l need of society, and that the s o c i a l d e f i n i t i o n s which he has rejected, l i k e the d i f f e r e n t i a t i o n of Wednesday from Thursday, are equally a r b i t r a r y but necessary for the order which a society must have i f i t i s to function. Simultaneously, he r e a l i z e s that he can only escape these a r b i t r a r y rules i f he e x i s t s , as he does during this week, outside the bounds of organized society. Since i t i s impossible f o r him to e x i s t i n this way for any extended length of time, his only a l t e r n a t i v e method of escape i s death. Therefore, his acceptance ot the Negro shoes, and thus the Negro r o l e , become linked with death: "...that mark on his ankles the gauge d e f i n i t e and ineradicable of the black tide creeping up his legs, moving from his f e e t upward as death moves" (p. 321). So Joe accepts the labels "nigger" and "murderer'' and goes w i l l i n g l y to his death. In order to escape society's l i m i t a t i o n s , he becomes what i t demands that he be. In the sense that the community i s wreaking i t s j u s t i c e not on the indivi-; dual Joe Christmas but on the Joe Christmas i t has defined, Joe becomes a martyr to the community's f a i l u r e to respond to his humanity and "an image of the s t e r i l i t y that k i l l s him." In this sense, Joe i s Christ-l i k e . C h r i s t was c r u c i f i e d not because of his true i d e n t i t y , but because of the Jews' perceptions of him. They defined him as a blasphemer, a vai n pretender and a threat to their e n t i r e r e l i g i o u s system. He l e t himself be c r u c i f i e d as these things; he spoke nothing i n his own de-fense and he refused to prove himself God. I t was e s s e n t i a l that peo-ple accept him as he was i n f a i t h i n the d i v i n i t y of his humanity. Joe Christmas e s s e n t i a l l y does the same thing and what society, through i t s representative Percy Grimm, i s c r u c i f y i n g i s the r e s u l t of i t s powerful w i l l to impose i t s categories on the i n d i v i d u a l . I t does not accept the i n d i v i d u a l simply by f a i t h i n their common humanity. Lena Grove, who i s as much a f e r t i l i t y p r i n c i p l e as she i s a charac-ter, has already attained this peace simply because she i s not concerned with the way she i s perceived. She has an absolute f a i t h i n the benevo-lence of the forces around her: "I reckon a family ought to a l l be to-gether when a chap comes....I reckon the Lord w i l l see to that" (p. 18). With this kind of confidence, Lena can move with l i f e and be a dynamic part of i t . She has enough.: of this l i f e force to be able to save Byron Bunch whose l i f e , with his job at the m i l l and his weekend t r i p s to the country church, was on the verge of repeating the s t e r i l e of G a i l High-tower's father. The two narrative threads come together when Joe i s k i l l e d on the day that Lena gives b i r t h to her c h i l d . With the c h i l d being born i n the cabin i n which Joe l i v e d , and with Mrs. Hines, i n her strange psychological state, erasing t h i r t y years and confusing the baby with Joe, one can see a d e f i n i t e r e - b i r t h motif. Although, as I have stated, Beekman C o t t r e l l 1 s analysis i n s i s t s too r i g i d l y on the p a r a l l e l and therefore lapses into absurdity, his recognition of Lena and Byron's symbolic r e l a t i o n s h i p to Mary and Joseph^is s i g n i f i c a n t but i n a much subtler manner than he sug-gests. The b i r t h of Lena's baby is indeed a f i g u r a t i v e r e - b i r t h of the Chr i s t i n Joe Christmas. Thus, there i s a uniting of the two prime ele-ments of the C h r i s t i a n myth, n a t i v i t y and c r u c i f i x i o n . Lena, i n her as-s o c i a t i o n with the n a t i v i t y , is symbolic of the cr e a t i v e , l i f e - g i v i n g force i n the myth. She p a r t i c i p a t e s i n the incarnation because, i n l i v i n g her l i f e , she has the power to impart the profound joy and s i m p l i c i t y and innocence that i s at the very core of l i f e . Joe partakes of the agony of c r u c i f i x i o n , the acceptance of g u i l t . By emphasizing the coincidence of Lena's giving b i r t h and Joe's death, Faulkner i s i n -d i c a t i n g that the two elements are equally necessary, and these two elements are "de r i c k l i c k s h u n en de blood of de Lamb," the f i r s t of which makes man aware of his weakness, his g u i l t , and the second allows him to accept that and r e j o i c e i n his own l i f e - g i v i n g blook, his own drive f o r a self-expressed c r e a t i v i t y i n discovering his true s e l f . When Joe accepts and transcends the bonds of s o c i e t a l repression through his death, he i s symbolically re-born into the kind of peace and f u l f i l l m e n t that Lena's l i f e represents. The strangle-hold of society's overpowering w i l l f o r order and con t r o l i s broken, s e l f - d e f i n i t i o n i s achieved, and l i f e can be re-affirmed i n i t s wholeness. One must remem-ber that Lena, i n her continuing t r a v e l s , l i v e s at the bounds of society; she uses i t as a v e h i c l e , l i t e r a l l y and f i g u r a t i v e l y . She can therefore ^ See page 105 above. p a r t i c i p a t e i n the c r e a t i v i t y of l i f e and f u l f i l l her own i n d i v i d u a l i t y . In the f i n a l a n a l y s i s , the C h r i s t i a n myth plays two roles i n Light  i n August. As organized, i n s t i t u t i o n a l r e l i g i o n , i t has become a dogmatic, r i g i d a p p l i c a t i o n of i n f l e x i b l e rules which do not accept the i n d i v i d u a l but attempts to re-shape him i n i t s own image. As such,'it i s a force .-• • which operates against the v i t a l i t y of l i f e since i t i n h i b i t s i n d i v i d u a l expression. But i n i t s pure form as found i n the symbolic union of Joe and Lena, i t represents that force which asserts the worth of the i n d i -v i d u a l as he i s , the common humanity of man, and the active destruction of a r b i t r a r y rules of order which would control man too s t r i n g e n t l y . I t i s the force of Christ's e x t r a o r d i n a r i l y s i g n i f i c a n t yet simple statement that 57 "The Sabbath was made for man, not man f o r the Sabbath." In;terms of the development i n the use of the myth from The Sound and the Fury to Lig h t i n August, the incorporation of c e r t a i n events i n Joe Christmas' l i f e which are suggestive of the pattern of Christ's l i f e i s a further and expected extension of Faulkner's handling of this " t o o l . " This seems the next l o g i c a l step a f t e r the a l l u s i o n s i n the f i r s t novels, and the bare outline of Christ's passion i n the days of the Easter c e l e b r a t i o n used as a s t r u c t u r a l device i n The Sound and the Fury. Now that s t r u c t u r a l device becomes an integrated part of the novel's p l o t . The symbolic as-sociations with the myth, however, have remained e s s e n t i a l l y the same, even to the extent of the opposition of the Old and New Testaments, the f i r s t being r e l a t e d to a force for massing a l l of man into one mold and the l a t t e r a force f o r harmony achieved between men whose l i v e s are the expression of their individuality,achieved in the totality of their humanity. Thus, one can easily see that i t is but a short step f-rom the Christ parallels suggested in Light in August to the allegory in A Fable, and the military system is but a more r i g i d and concentrated, secular form of the church in Light in August CONCLUSION On the basis of the preceding a n a l y s i s , one can, I think, r e a d i l y discern both a consistent thematic use of and a steady a r t i s t i c develop-ment i n the C h r i s t i a n myth as i t appears i n Faulkner's novels. A Fable, with i t s e x p l i c i t a l l e g o r i c a l use of the myth provides a cl e a r i n d i c a t i o n of the d i r e c t i o n i n which Faulkner s t e a d i l y moves i n the e a r l i e r stages of his a r t i s t r y . Thematically, A Fable presents, though not nearly as subtly as The Sound and the Fury or Light i n August, the fundamental con-f l i c t between the large a b s t r a c t i o n "Authority," which attempts to shape a l l men i n i t s own image, and the s i m p l i c i t y of the corporal's b e l i e f i n the primacyiof the whole s e l f unconstrained by ideology. The b e l i e f which the corporal stands f o r and the B r i t i s h runner grasps " i s capable of con-taini n g a l l of time and a l l of man" i n one unutterable v i s i o n . This same r e j e c t i o n of i n s t i t u t i o n s • and ideologies which deny a portion of man's s e l f i s present i n each of the novels studied and i s ac-companied by a movement toward a "timeless moment" i n which a v i s i o n of the es s e n t i a l wholeness of l i f e is experienced. In Soldier's Pay that moment occurs amidst the s t e r i l i t y and fragmentation and death which society has i n s t i l l e d into the mutilated s o l d i e r , Donald Mahon. At the end of the novel the Negro church service overwhelms Joe G i l l i g a n and Rector Mahon with i t s conjunction of l i f e ' s elements, "tomorrow and sweat...sex and death and dam-nation." They are then enabled to experience their own profound humanity, " f e e l i n g dust i n their shoes." Mosquitoes presents, i n jux t a p o s i t i o n to the s u p e r f i c i a l i t y of Mrs. Maurier and the impotence of T a l l i a f e r o , F a i r -c h i l d ' s comprehension of the same primary unity of "the hackneyed ac-cidents which make up this world." The major character i n S a r t o r i s cannot fuse the fragments of his l i f e , his "heroic" family t r a d i t i o n and his own war experiences, and thus r e j e c t s l i f e i n favor of death. Then, i n a foreshadowing of the r e b i r t h motif i n L i g h t i n August, Bayard's son i s born on the day he dies and Narcissa, i n a gesture of renunciation of the t r a d i t i o n p o s i t i n g a l i m i t e d pattern of order, does not name the c h i l d Bayard or John, but Benbow S a r t o r i s , thus u n i t i n g the p l a c i d i t y of her own l i f e as a Benbow with the energy of the S a r t o r i s e s . She prepares the way f o r her son to avoid Bayard's destructive struggle. In the novels of Faulkner's middle period, this pattern i s much more highly developed and both poles of the c o n f l i c t are expressed i n terms of the C h r i s t i a n myth. Benjy, Quentin, and Jason a l l have r i g i d perceptual frameworks which become associated with a view of C h r i s t i a n i t y as an exclusive ideology accepting only those whose l i v e s f i t a precon-ceived pattern. For each of? ;these Compsons, Caddy's expression of her p h y s i c a l desires would destroy t h e i r pattern, so she i s either rejected or condemned. Dilsey's b e l i e f , however, i s large enough to include Caddy as she i s . The Easter service i n which D i l s e y p a r t i c i p a t e s becomes a symbolic expression of the acceptance of the whole man without r e s t r i c t i o n s , and her experience i s that of d i r e c t , p a r t i c i p a t o r y perception i n which " . . . t h e i r hearts were speaking to one another." This kind of v i s i o n i s able to see a l l of l i f e at once i n i t s fundamental i n t e g r i t y and i s the center of r e l i g i o u s experience. Such a moment i s indeed timeless, be-cause i t subsumes a l l of time, "de beginnin 1 en de endin," into an instant of perception. L i g h t i n August deals with the same opposition between the oppressive forces which bring only s t a s i s and death and that force which i s the dynamic, unbounded motion of l i f e . Society defines Joe and then c r u c i f i e s him i n the r o l e i t has ascribed to him. The a l l u s i o n s to Chris t indicate that Joe, l i k e C h r i s t , i s martyred by a society which perceives his unorthodox l i f e s t y l e as a threat to i t s r i g i d , mechanical form. Then, i n the cru-c i f i x i o n - n a t i v i t y motif established by the conjunction of Joe's?death and the b i r t h of Lena's baby, one can see, as S u t t e r f i e l d remarked i n A Fable, that "they're both the same to Him," that both the s u f f e r i n g because of " e v i l " and the ecstasy of cr e a t i o n are e s s e n t i a l parts of man. As both of these poles are part of the C h r i s t i a n myth, both are part of l i f e i t s e l f and when conjoined, bring the r e l i g i o u s experience of the wholeness of l i f e i n which man expresses his d i v i n i t y . This i s what the people of Jefferson and Quentin and Jason need to learn. Thus, one can, I think, see that i n Faulkner's works, the C h r i s t i a n myth r a p i d l y becomes, to return to Schorer's d e f i n i t i o n , "a large c o n t r o l l i n g image...which gives p h i l o s o p h i c a l meaning to the f a c t s of ordinary l i f e . . . [and] organizing value f o r human l i f e ! ' The thematic consistency with which i t i s used i n the novels underscores that value. Although the novels studied here present Faulkner's most complete and ^ Mark Schorer, op_. c i t . , p. 27. s i g n i f i c a n t uses of the C h r i s t i a n myth, one can f i n d i n the other novels s p e c i f i c passages which also f i t into the pattern I have described, though the pattern i s by no means as complete. In As I Lay Dying, f o r example, when the reader sees the scene i n the r i v e r through Darl's eyes, and a log "...surged up out of the water f o r an instant upright upon that 2 surging and heaving desolation l i k e C h r i s t , " the image seems to juxta-pose a l l of the desolation i n the Bundren family, the hardships of the t r i p , the psychological struggles of Darl and Vardaman, Dewey Dell's unwanted pregnancy, to this p i c t u r e of C h r i s t . He was able to assimilate a l l the desolation of l i f e and stand upright upon i t , perhaps even because of i t . The image posi t s a r e s o l u t i o n which Anse i n his own way achieves by simply moving forward with his new f a l s e teeth and his new wife. A s i m i l a r image occurs i n Absalom, Absalom! which, through Sutpen's actions, recreates the construction of the r i g i d , oppressive s o c i a l struc-ture of the antebellum South. In this system, as i n L i g h t i n August, i n -divi d u a l s are forced to assume the roles defined f o r them, and as a re-s u l t , this s o c i e t y partakes of the same agony found i n Jefferson's pur-gation of Joe Christmas. Charles Bon, who was s l a i n because i n proposing marriage to Jud i t h Sutpen he proposed both incest and miscegeny i n bla-tant v i o l a t i o n of the fundamental code of that society, died, "Aged 33 3 years and 5 months." His grandson, Charles Etienne St. Valery Bon, i s light-skinned and could avoid this c o n f l i c t i f he would only move to a 2 William Faulkner, As I Lay Dying (New York, [l930] 1957), p. 141. William Faulkner, Absalom, Absalom'. (New York, [l936] 1964), p. 190. d i f f e r e n t s e c t i o n of the country. He chooses, however, to take a pro-t o t y p i c a l l y negroid wife and thus compel society to confront i t s own r i g i d i t y . In his conference with Judith, she asks him to annul his marriage and to c a l l her Aunt Ju d i t h . Charles r e p l i e s , "No, Miss Sutpen," and on his return to his cabin, he i s "...treading the thorny and f l i n t -paved path toward the Gethsemane which he had decreed and created f o r him-s e l f , where he had c r u c i f i e d himself and come down from his cross f o r a moment and now returned to i t . " (p. 209). I t seems to me that this over-whelming i n f l e x i b i l i t y which forbids the i n d i v i d u a l to experience the joy of creating his own s e l f i s the reason that Quentin, though he does not v e r b a l i z e i t , cannot fuse the pieces into a unit because such r i -g i d i t y demands the separation of absolute categories. In i t s conjunction of the pre-lenten Mardi Gras f e s t i v i t i e s with the Thursday through Sunday progression of Holy Week, Pylon points to a union of the agony of the destructive, fragmenting forces with the joy and c r e a t i v e energy of the r e s u r r e c t i o n that was so subtly produced i n L i g h t  i n August. In Pylon, however, such a union i s posited only by the allusions since no character experiences any kind of "oneness" and the novel pre-sents only the r i g i d and s t e r i l e society, as the a l l u s i o n s to E l i o t ' s "The Lovesong of J . A l f r e d Prufrock" i n d i c a t e , i n which the use of machines has become a form of worship. This society can experience only the de-s t r u c t i o n and violence associated with Christ's death and none of the joy of r e b i r t h : And here also the c r y p t i c shieldcaught ; ( i n r i ) loops of bunting giving an appearance temporary and t e n t l i k e to i n -terminable long c o r r i d o r of machine plush and gilded synthetic p l a s t e r running be-tween anonymous and rentable spaces or a l -coves from sunrise to sunset across America. 4-Although Pylon i s a f a r less successful novel than L i g h t i n August, one can, I'think, discern the s i m i l a r i t i e s of Faulkner's use of the C h r i s t i a n myth i n them. Requiem for a Nun, however, does provide an i n t e r n a l r e c o n c i l i a t i o n . This dramatic-novel i s e s s e n t i a l l y Temple Drake's use of the Governor's o f f i c e as a confessional^ by means of which she learns that she cannot separate her " s i n f u l " past from the present. She must accept both. Nancy Mannigoe, who knows this because she has accomplished such a re-c o n c i l i a t i o n and she can respond to her death sentence with "Yes, Lord," t e l l s Temple: You a i n ' t got to s i n . You can't help i t . And He knows that too. He don't t e l l you not to s i n , he j u s t asks you not to. And He don't t e l l you to s u f f e r . But he gives you the chance, (p. 287). Nancy dies for her s i n , but she does not need the governor's pardon be-cause she has already accepted her l i f e i n i t s wholeness. The " h i s t o r i c a l " sections of the novel indicate that Temple, i n drawing the l i n e between past and present i s supported by the s o c i a l i n s t i t u t i o n s , the J e f f e r s o n ^ William Faulkner, Pylon (New York, [1935] 1962), p. 56. See James Giermanski, "William Faulkner's Use of the Confessional," Renascence, XXI (1970), 119-123, 166, for a complete treatment of this, z ; D William Faulkner, Requiem f o r a Nun (New York, 1950), p. 51. j a i l and courthouse, the c a p i t o l dome i n Jackson, which stand for a b l i n d j u s t i c e bent on an absolute separation of good and e v i l . Thus, the t i t l e of Act II i s "The Golden Dome (Beginning was the word)," and that word i s the law of the Old Testament God who also defined good and e v i l and eschewed the l a t t e r . But the "Word" i s also Jesus C h r i s t 7 who put away that r i g i d i t y and accepted s i n f u l man. As Gavin Stevens states: "He said'Suffer l i t t l e c h i l d r e n to come unto Me.1 He meant exactly that; He meant s u f f e r ; that the adults, the fathers, the old i n and capable of s i n , must be ready and willing--nay, eager--to s u f f e r at any time, that the l i t t l e c h i l d r e n s h a l l come unto him unanguished..." (p. 163). Thus, Nancy's f i n a l word-- to Temple, "Believe" asks her to believe i n the primary wholeness of one's experiences. Only i n accepting s u f f e r i n g and joy can one's c h i l d r e n receive the heritage that Gavin demands. The -above i s , I think, strongly i n d i c a t i v e of Faulkner's continuing and consistent use of the C h r i s t i a n myth even i n the novels i n which i t i s not expressed i n l i t s complete form. However, a very i n t r i g u i n g aspect of Faulkner's career i s that a f t e r A Fable, that i s , i n his l a s t three novels, The Town (1957), The Mansion (1959), and The Reivers (1962), the myth i s g p r a c t i c a l l y non-existent. This would seem to indicate that, f o r whatever 7 See Luke, chapter 1. Q The exception here, besides various expletives, i s the ex-marine and his church i n The Mansion. This scene i s problematic, and I think Brylowski de-scribes i t as w e l l as anyone: "What Faulkner intended with this scene i s un-c e r t a i n . C h r i s t appeared to the marine as another s o l d i e r ordering him to " F a l l in"...Faulkner does not t e l l us of any impact the narration of this ' v i s i o n had on Mink. In f a c t , i t only seems to stress his alienation...The s t o r y i s not developed adequately i n r e l a t i o n to any character's conscious-ness for i t to have s u f f i c i e n t meaning. Mink does, i n f a c t , leave the group, go to Memphis, get his gun, make his way to Jefferson, and k i l l Flem" (Brylowski^ op_. c i t . , pp. 209-210). reason, Faulkner f e l t he had moved as far as he could with the myth; that i s , his consistent use of the myth in his earlier works is a sufficiently complete expression of his a r t i s t i c conception of i t . SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY WORKS BY WILLIAM FAULKNER Soldier's Pay. New York: Liverwright, £ 1926] 1954. Mosquitoes. New York; Liverwright, [1927] 1955. S a r t o r i s . New York: Random House, [1929] 1956 The Sound and the Fury. New York: Random House, [l92S»] 1956 As I Lav Dying. New York: Random House, [1930] 1957. Sanctuary. New York: Random House, [1931] 1967. Light i n August. New York: Random House, [1932] 1959. Pylon. New York: The New American L i b r a r y , Inc., [1935] 1968. Absalom. Absalom! New York: Random House, [1936] 1964. The Unvanquished. New York: The New American Library, [1938] 1952. The Wild Palms. New York: The New American Libr a r y , [1939] 1968. The Hamlet. New York: Random House [1940] 1958. Go Down. Moses. New York: Random House, 1942. Intruder i n the Dust. New York, Random House, 1948. Knight's Gambit. New York: Random House, 1949. Requiem f or a Nun. New York: Random House, 1951. A Fable. London: Chatto and Windus, 1955. The Town. New York: Random House, 1958. The Mansion. New York: Random House, [1959] 1965. The Reivers: A Reminiscence. New York: Random House, 1962. WORKS ON FAULKNER Booksr Bibliographies Massey, Linton R. William Faulkner; "Man Working:" 1919-1962: A Catalogue  of the William Faulkner C o l l e c t i o n at the University of V i r g i n i a . C h a r l o t t e s v i l l e : U n i v e r s i t y Press of V i r g i n i a , 1968. Meriwether, James B. The L i t e r a r y Career of William Faulkner: A B i b l i o -graphical Study. Princeton: Princeton University Library, 1961. Sleeth, Irene. A Bibliography of C r i t i c i s m . Denver: A l l a n Swallow, 1962. Books - Biographies and Interviews Coughlan, Robert. The Private World of William Faulkner: The Man, the  Legend, the Writer. New York: Harper, 1954. Cullen, John B. and Floyd C. Watkins. Old Times i n the Faulkner Country. Chapel H i l l : U n i v e r s i t y of North Carolina Press, 1961. Dain, Martin. Faulkner's Country. New York; Random House, 1964. Fant, Joseph L. and L t . Col. Robert P. Ashley.ed.Faulkner at West Point. New York: Random House, 1964. Falkner, Murry C. The Falkners of M i s s i s s i p p i : A Memoir. Baton Rouge: S Louisiana State U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1967. Gwynn, Frederick L. and Joseph Blotner, eds. Faulkner i n the Uni v e r s i t y : Class Conferences at the Univ e r s i t y of V i r g i n i a . C h a r l o t t e s v i l l e : U n i v e r s i t y of V i r g i n i a , 1959. J e l l i f e , Robert A., ed. Faulkner at Nagano. Rutland: Charles E. Tuttle Co., 1956. Meriwether, James B., ed. Essays. Speeches, and Public Letters of  William Faulkner. New York: Random House, 1966. Meriwether, James B. and Michael M i l l g a t e , eds. Lion i n the Garden: Interviews with William Faulkner. 1926-1962. New York: Random House, 1968. Books - C r i t i c a l Adams, Richard P. Faulkner: Myth and Motion. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1968. Backman, Melvin. Faulkner. The Major Years: A C r i t i c a l Study. Blooming-ton: Indiana U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1966. Beck, Warren. Man i n Motion: Faulkner's T r i l o g y . Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1961. Brooks, Cleanth. William Faulkner: The Yoknapatawpha Country. New Haven: Yale U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1963. Brylowski, Walter. Faulkner's Olympian Laugh: Myth i n the Novels. D e t r o i t : Wayne State U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1968. Campbell, Harry M. and Ruel E. Foster. William Faulkner: A C r i t i c a l Ap-p r a i s a l . Norman, Oklahoma:"?University of Oklahoma Press, 1951. Everett, Walter K. Faulkner's Art and Characters. Woodbury, New York: Barron's Educational Series, Inc., 1969. Gold, Joseph. William Faulkner: A Study i n Humanism from Metaphor to  Discourse. Norman, Oklahoma: University of Oklahoma Press, 1966. Gue t t i , James. The Limitssof Metaphor: A Study of M e l v i l l e . Conrad and  Faulkner. Ithaca: C o r n e l l University Press, 1967. Hoffman, Frederick H. William Faulkner. Twayne's U. S. Author Series. New York, 1961. Holmes, Edward M. Faulkner's Twice-ToId Tales: His Re-Use of His M a t e r i a l . The Hague: Mouton, 1966. Howe, Ir v i n g . William Faulkner; A C r i t i c a l Study. 2nd ed. New York: Vintage Books, 1962. Hunt, John W. William Faulkner: Art i n Theological Tension. Syracuse: Syracuse U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1965. Longley, John L., J r . The Tragic Mask: A Study of Faulkner's Heroes. Chapel H i l l : U n iversity of North Carolina Press, 1963. Malin, Ir v i n g . William Faulkner: An Interpretation. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1957. M i l l g a t e , Michael. The Achievement of William Faulkner. New York: Random House, 1965. Miner, Ward L. The World of William Faulkner. Durham: Duke University Press, 1952. Nilon, Charles H. Faulkner and the Negro. New York: C i t a d e l Press, 1962. O'Connor, William Van. The Tangled F i r e of William Faulkner. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1954. Richardson, Kenneth E. Force and F a i t h i n the Novels of William Faulkner. The Hague: Mouton, 1967. Robb, Mary Cooper. William Faulkner: An Estimation of his Contribution to  the Modern American Novel. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1957. S l a t o f f , Walter J . Quest for F a i l u r e : A Study of William Faulkner. Ithaca: C o r n e l l U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1960. Smart, George K. Religious Elements i n Faulkner's Early Novels: A Selec- t i v e Concordance. Miami: University of F l o r i d a Press, 1965. Swiggart, Peter. The'Art of Faulkner's Novels. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1962. Thompson, Lawrence. William Faulkner: An Introduction and Interpretation. 2nd ed. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1967. Vickery, Olga. The Novels of William Faulkner: A C r i t i c a l I nterpretation. Rev. ed. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1964. Volpe, Edmond L. A Reader's Guide to William Faulkner. New York: Noonday Press, 1964. Waggoner, Hyatt H. William Faulkner: From Jefferson to the World. Lex-ington: U n i v e r s i t y of Kentucky Press, 1959. Utley, Francis L. and Lynn Z. Bloom. Bear. Man, and God: Seven Approaches  to Faulkner's "The Bear". New York: Random House, 1968. Books - C o l l e c t i o n s of Essays Hoffman, Frederick J . and Olga Vickery, eds. William Faulkner: Two Decades  of C r i t i c i s m . East Lansing: Michigan State U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1951. Hoffman, Frederick J . and Olga Vickery, eds. William Faulkner: Three Decades of C r i t i c i s m . East Lansing: Michigan State Un i v e r s i t y Press, 1960. (Revised and enlarged version of preceding entry). Warren, Robert Penn, ed. Faulkner: A C o l l e c t i o n of C r i t i c a l Essays. Twentieth Century Views. Englewood C l i f f s : P r e n t i c e - H a l l , 1966. Books - Indices and Handbooks Ford, Margaret and Suzanne Kinca i d . Who's Who i n Faulkner. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1963. Kirk , Robert W. and Marvin K l o t z . Faulkner's People: A Complete Guide and  Index to the Characters i n the F i c t i o n of William Faulkner. Berkeley: U n i v e r s i t y of C a l i f o r n i a Press, 1963. Runyan, Harry. A Faulkner Glossary. New York: C i t a d e l Press, 1964. Tuck, Dorothy. Crowell's Handbook of Faulkner. New York: Crowell, 1964. P e r i o d i c a l A r t i c l e s and Portions of Books Adams, Richard P., "Faulkner and the Myth of the South," M i s s i s s i p p i  Quarterly. XIV (Summer, 1961), 131-137. Adams, Percy G., "Humour as Structure and Theme i n Faulkner's T r i l o g y , " Wisconsin Studies i n Contemporary L i t e r a t u r e . V (Autumn, 1964), 205-212. A l l e n , Charles, "Faulkner's V i s i o n of Good and E v i l , " P a c i f i c Spectator. X (Summer, 1956), 236-241. , "William Faulkner: Comedy and the Purpose of Humor," Arizona Quarterly. XVI (Spring, 1960), 59-69. Altenbrand, Lynn, "A Suspended Moment: The Irony of History i n William Faulkner's The Bear." Modern Language Notes. "VI (November, 1960), 572-582. Antrim, Harry T., "Faulkner's Suspended S t y l e , " University Review, XXXII (1965), 122-128. Aswell, Duncan, "The Puzzling Design of Absalom. Absalom!" Kenyon Review. XXX (1968), 67-84. , "The Re c o l l e c t i o n and the Blood: Jason's Role i n The Sound and the Fury." M i s s i s s i p p i Quarterly. XXI (1968), 211-218. Atkins, A., "The Matched Halves of Absalom. Absalom.'" Modern F i c t i o n  Studies, XV (Summer, 1969), 264-265. Backman, Melvin, "Sickness and Primitivism: A Dominant Pattern i n William Faulkner's F i c t i o n , " Accent, XIV (Winter, 1954), 61-73. , "Faulkner's Sick Heroes: Bayard Sartoris and Quentin Compson, Modern F i c t i o n Studies. II (Autumn, 1956), 95-108. Baker, Carlos, "William Faulkner: The Doomed and the Damned," i n C a r l Bode, ed., The Young Rebel i n American L i t e r a t u r e . London: Heine-mann, 1959, pp. 143-169. Baldanza, Frank, "Faulkner and Stein: A Study i n S t y l i s t i c Intransigence, Georgia Review. XIII ( F a l l , 1959), 274-286. , "The Structure of Light i n August." Modern F i c t i o n Studies. XIII (Spring, 1967), 67-78. Barth, J . Robert, "Faulkner and the C a l v i n i s t T r a d i t i o n , " Thought. XXXIX (Spring, 1964), 100-120. Bass, Eben, "Meaningful Images i n The Sound and the Fury." Modern Lan-guage Notes. LXXVI (December, 1961), 728-731. Bassan, Maurice, "Benjy at the Monument," English Language Notes. II (September, 1964), 46-50. Baum, Catherine B., "'The B e a u t i f u l One 1: Caddy Compson as Heroine of The  Sound and the Fury." Modern F i c t i o n Studies. XIII (Spring, 1967), 33 Bedient, Calvin, "Pride and Nakedness: As I Lay Dying." Modern Language  Quarterly. XXIX (1968), 61-76. Beja, Morris, "A Flash, a Glare: Faulkner and Time," Renascence. XVI (Spring, 1964), 133-141, 145. Benson, C a r l , "Thematic Design i n Light i n August," South A t l a n t i c Quar-t e r l y . L I I I (October, 1954), 540-555. Berland, Alwyn, "Light i n August: The Calvinism of William Faulkner," Modern F i c t i o n Studies. VIII (Summer, 1962), 159-170. Beauchamp, Gorman, "The Unvanquished: Faulkner's Oresteia." M i s s i s s i p p i  Quarterly, XXIII (Summer, 1970), 273-278. Bjork, Lennart, "Ancient Myths and the Moral Framework of Faulkner's Absalom. Absalom!" American L i t e r a t u r e . XXXV(May, 1963), 196-204. Blotner, Joseph, "As I Lay Dying: C h r i s t i a n Lore and Irony," Twentieth  Century L i t e r a t u r e . I l l ( A p r i l , 1957), 14-19. Bradford, Melvin E., "On the Importance of Discovering God: Faulkner and Hemingway's Old Man and The Sea." M i s s i s s i p p i Quarterly. XX (1967), 158-162. , "Spring Paradigm: Faulkner's L i v i n g Legacy," Forum (Houston), V I , " i i (1968), 4-7. , " A l l the Daughters of Eve: "Was" and the Unity of Go Down Moses." A r l i n g t o n Quarterly. I (1967), 28-37. , "The Gum Tree Scene: Observations on the Structure of 'The Bear,'" Southern Humanities Review. I (1967), 141-150. Brien, Delores E., "William Faulkner and the Myth of Woman," Research  Studies (Washington State U n i v e r s i t y ) , XXXV (1967), 132-140. i Brooks, Cleanth, "Absalom. Absalom!: The D e f i n i t i o n of Innocence," Sewanee Review. LIX (Autumn, 1951), 543-558. , "Faulkner as Poet," Southern L i t e r a r y Journal. I, i (1968), 5-19. , "Faulkner's F i r s t Novel," Southern Review. VI (October, 1970) 1056-1074. Brown, Calvin S., "Faulkner's Use of the Oral T r a d i t i o n , " Georgia Review. XXII (1968), 429-449. Brown, William R., "Faulkner's Paradox i n Pathology and Salvation: Sanc-tuary . Light i n August. Requiem for a Nun." Texas Studies i n L i t e r a -ture and Language, IX (Autumn, 1967), 429-449. Bowling, Lawrence E., "Faulkner and the Theme of Innocence," Kenyon Review, XX ( Summer, 1958), 466-487. , "William Faulkner: The Importance of Love," Dalhousie Review, XLIII (Winter, 1963), 474-482. , "Faulkner and the Theme of I s o l a t i o n , " Georgia Review. XVIII (Spring, 1964), 50-66. , "Faulkner: The Theme of Pride i n The Sound and the Fury." Modern F i c t i o n Studies. XI (Summer, 1965), 129-139. Burgum, Edwin Berry, "William Faulkner's Patterns of American Decadence," i n The Novel and the World's Dilemma. New York: Oxford Un i v e r s i t y Press, 1947, pp. 205-222. Campbell, Harry M., " S t r u c t u r a l Devices i n the Work of Faulkner," Perspec-t i v e . I l l (Autumn, 1950), 209-226. Carter, Thomas H., "Dramatization of an Enigma," Western Review. XIX (Winter, 1955), 147-158. Church, Margaret, "William Faulkner: Myth and Duration," i n Time and R e a l i t y ; Studies i n Contemporary F i c t i o n . Chapel H i l l : U n iversity of North Carolina Press, 1963, pp. 227-250. Coanda, Richard, "Absalom. Absalom!: The Edge of I n f i n i t y , " Renascence. XI (Autumn, 1958), 3-9. Coffee, Jessie A., "Empty Staples: Theme, Symbol and Irony i n Faulkner's Novels," Arizona Quarterly. XXIII (1967), 197-226. Cole, Douglas, "Faulkner's Sanctuary: Retreat from R e s p o n s i b i l i t y , " Western Humanities Review. XIV (Summer, 1960), 291-298. C o l l i n s , Carvel, "The P a i r i n g of The Sound and the Fury and As I Lay Dying." The Princeton U n i v e r s i t y L i b r a r y Chronicle. XVIII (Spring, 1957), 115-119. Connolly, Thomas E., "Fate and 'the Agony of the W i l l ' : Determinism i n Some Works of William Faulkner," i n Sydney J . Krause, ed., Essays on  Determinism i n American L i t e r a t u r e . Kent, Ohio: Kent State Univer-s i t y Press, 1964, pp. 36-52. , "ThesThree Plots of A Fable." Twentieth Century L i t e r a t u r e . VI (July, 1960), 70-75. C o t t r e l l , Beekman W., " C h r i s t i a n Symbols i n Light i n August." Modern F i c t i o n  Studies. II (Winter, 1956), 207-213. Crane, John Kenny, "The Jefferson Courthouse: An Axis E x e c r a b i l i s Mundi'.' Twentieth Century L i t e r a t u r e . XV ( A p r i l , 1969), 19-23. Cross, Barbara M., "Apocalypse and Comedy i n As I Lay Dying." Texas Studies  i n L i t e r a t u r e and Language. I l l (Summer, 1961), 251-258. , "The Sound and the Fury: The Pattern of S a c r i f i c e , " Arizona Quarterly. XVI (Spring, 1960), 5-16. Daniel, Bradford, "William Faulkner and the Southern Quest for Freedom," i n Daniel, ed., Black. White, and Gray; Twenty-One Points of View on  the Race Question. New York: Sheed and Ward, 1964, pp. 291-308. Dauner, Louise, "Quentin and the Walking Shadow: The Dilemma of Nature and Culture." Arizona Quarterly. XXI (Summer, 1965), 159-171. De V i l l i e r , Mary Anne G., "Faulkner's Young Man: As Reflected i n the Character of Charles M a l l i s o n , " Laurentian Review. IX,-^ii (1970), 42-49. Donelly, William and Doris, "William Faulkner: In Search of Peace," P e r s o n a l i s t . XLIV (Autumn, 1963), 490-498. Dickerson, Mary Jane, "Some Sources of Faulkner's Myth i n As I Lay Dying." M i s s i s s i p p i Quarterly. XIX (Summer, 1966), 132-142. D i l l i s t o n e , F.W., The Novelist and the Passion Story. London: C o l l i n s , 1960, pp. 92-118. Doran, Leonard, "Form and the Story T e l l e r , " Harvard Advocate. CXXXV (November, 1951), 12, 38-41. Dorsch, Robert L., "An Interpretation of the Central Themes i n the Work of W illiam Faulkner," Emporia State Research Studies. XI (September, 1962), 5-42. Doster, William, "The Several Faces of Gavin Stevens," M i s s i s s i p p i Quar-t e r l y . XI ( F a l l , 1958), 191-195. Doyle, Charles, "The Moral World of William Faulkner," Renascence. XIX ( F a l l , 1966), 3-12. Dunlap, Mary M., "William Faulkner's Knight's Gambit and Gavin Stevens," M i s s i s s i p p i Quarterly. XXIII (Summer, 1970), 223-240. Dussinger, G l o r i a R., "Faulkner's Isaac McCaslin as Romantic Hero Manque," South A t l a n t i c Quarterly. LXVIII (Summer, 1969), 377-385. Farmer, Norman, J r . , "The Love Theme: A P r i n c i p a l Source of Thematic Unity i n Faulkner's Snopes T r i l o g y , " Twentieth Century L i t e r a t u r e . VIII (January, 1963), 111-123. Farnham, James F., "Faulkner's Unsung Hero: Gavin Stevens," Arizone Quar-t e r l y . XXI (Summer, 1965), 115-132. Ficken, C a r l , "The Chr i s t Story i n A Fable." M i s s i s s i p p i Quarterly. XXIII (Summer, 1970), 251-264. F i e d l e r , L e s l i e . Love and Death i n the American Novel. New York: C r i t e r i o n Books, 1960, pp. 309-315, 443-449. , "William Faulkner: Highbrows' Lowbrow," i n No! In Thunder: Essays on Myth and L i t e r a t u r e . Boston: Beacon Press, 1960, pp. 111-118. Fisher, Richard E., "The Wilderness, the Commissary, and the Bedroom: Faulkner's Ike McCaslin as Hero i n a Vacuum," Engl i s h Studies. XLIV (February, 1963), 19-28. F r a n k l i n , R.W., "Narrative Management i n As I Lay Dying." Modern F i c t i o n  Studies. XIII (Spring, 1967), 57-65. F r a z i e r , David L., "Lucas Burch and the P o l a r i t y of Light i n August." Modern Language Notes. LXXIII (June, 1958), 417-419. , "Gothicism i n Sanctuary: The Black P a l l and the Crap Table, Modern F i c t i o n Studies. II (Autumn, 1956), 114-124. Freedman, William A., "The Technique of I s o l a t i o n i n The Sound and the  Fury." M i s s i s s i p p i Quarterly, XV (1962), 21-26. Galharn, C a r l , "Faulkner's F a i t h : Roots from The Wild Palms." Twentieth  Century L i t e r a t u r e . I (October, 1955), 89-93. Gates, A l l e n , "The Old Frenchman Place: Symbol of a Lost C i v i l i z a t i o n , " Iowa Engl i s h Yearbook. XIII (1968), 44-50. Gavin, Jerome, "Light i n August: The Act of Involvement," Harvard Advocate. CXXXV (November, 1951), 14-15, 34-37. Gelfant, Blanche H., "Faulkner and Keats: The I d e a l i t y of Art i n 'The Bear.'" Southern L i t e r a r y Journal. I I , i (1970), 43-65. Gerstenberger, Donna, "Meaning and Form i n Intruder i n the Dust." College  English. XXIII (December, 1961) ,; 223-225. Giermanski, James R., "William Faulkner's Use of the Confessional," Renascence. XXI (1970), 119-123, 166. Gold, Joseph, "The Two Worlds of Light i n August." M i s s i s s i p p i Quarterly. XVI (Summer, 1963), 160-167. , "No Refuge: Faulkner's Sanctuary." University Review. XXXIII (Winter, 1966), 126-135. , "Dickens and Faulkner: The Uses of Influence," Dalhousie Review. IL (1970), 69-79. , "The Faulkner Game," Southern L i t e r a r y Journal. I (Spring, 1969) 91-97. Greene, Theodore M., "The Philosophy of L i f e I m p l i c i t i n Faulkner's The Mansion." Texas Studies i n L i t e r a t u r e and Language. II (Winter, 1961) 401-418. Greer, Dorothy D., "Dilsey and Lucas: Faulkner's Use of the Negro as a Guage of Moral Character," Emporia State Research Studies. XI (September, 1962), 43-61. Greer, Scott, "Joe Christmas and the S o c i a l S e l f , " M i s s i s s i p p i Quarterly. XI ( F a l l , 1958), 160-167. Greet, Tom, "Toward the Light: The Thematic Unity of Faulkner's 'Cycle,'" Carolina Quarterly. I l l ( F a l l , 1950), 38-44. Gresham, Jewell H., "Narrative Techniques of William Faulkner's Form," Nassau Review (Nassau Community College), I, i i i (1966), 103-119. Gresset, Michel, "Psychological Aspects of E v i l i n The Sound and the Fury." M i s s i s s i p p i Quarterly. XIX (Summer, 1966), 143-153. G r i f f i n , Robert J . , " E t h i c a l Point of View i n The Sound and the Fury." i n Richard E. Langford, ed., Essays i n Modern American L i t e r a t u r e . Deland, F l o r i d a : Stetson U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1963, pp. 55-64. Gross, Beverly, "Form and F u l f i l l m e n t i n The Sound and the Fury." Modern  Language Quarterly. XXIX (December, 1968), 439-449. Guerschi, Edward, " R i t u a l and Myth i n Faulkner's Pylon." Thoth. I l l (September, 1962), 101-110. Hafley, James, "Faulkner's Fable: Dream and Transfiguration," Accent. XVI (Winter, 1956), 3-14. Hagan, John, "Fact and Fancy i n Absalom. Absalom!." College E n g l i s h . XXIV (December, 1962), 62-64. , "De'ia vu and the E f f e c t of Timeliness i n Faulkner's Absalom. Absalom!. Bucknell Review. XI (March, 1963), 31-52. Hagopian, John V., " N i h i l i s m i n Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury" Modern  F i c t i o n Studies. XIII (Spring, 1967), 45-55. Hamblen, A b i g a i l Ann, "Faulkner's P i l l a r of Endurance: Sanctuary and Requiem  for a Nun." Midwest Quarterly. VI (July, 1965), 369-375. Hammond, Donald, "Faulkner's Levels of Awareness," F l o r i d a Quarterly. I , f . i i (1967), 73-81. Handy, William H., "As I Lay Dying; Faulkner's Inner Reporter," Kenyon  Review. XXI (Summer, 1959), 437-451. Harder, Ke l s i e B., "Charactonyms i n Faulkner's Novels," Bucknell Review. VIII ( A p r i l , 1959), 189-201. Hartt, J u l i a n N., "Some Reflections on Faulkner's Fable." R e l i g i o n i n L i f e . XXIV ( F a l l , 1955), 601-607. Hathaway, Baxter, "The Meanings of Faulkner's Structures," E n g l i s h Record. XV (December, 1964), 22-27. 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