The Quest of the Silver Fleece: A Novel

by W. E. B. Du Bois

  _Sixteen_

  THE GREAT REFUSAL

  All night Miss Smith lay holding the quivering form of Zora close to herbreast, staring wide-eyed into the darkness--thinking, thinking. In themorning the party would come. There would be Mrs. Grey and Mary Taylor,Mrs. Vanderpool, who had left her so coldly in the lurch before, andsome of the Cresswells. They would come well fed and impressed with thecharming hospitality of their hosts, and rather more than willing to seethrough those host's eyes. They would be in a hurry to return to somesocial function, and would give her work but casual attention.

  It seemed so dark an ending to so bright a dream. Never for her had afall opened as gloriously. The love of this boy and girl, blossoming asit had beneath her tender care, had been a sacred, wonderful historythat revived within her memories of long-forgotten days. But above laythe vision of her school, redeemed and enlarged, its future safe, itsusefulness broadened--small wonder that to Sarah Smith the future hadseemed in November almost golden.

  Then things began to go wrong. The transfer of the Tolliver land had notyet been effected; the money was ready, but Mr. Tolliver seemed busy orhesitating. Next came this news of Mrs. Grey's probable conditions. Sohere it was Christmas time, and Sarah Smith's castles lay almost inruins about her.

  The girl moaned in her fitful sleep and Miss Smith soothed her. Poorchild! here too was work--a strange strong soul cruelly stricken in heryouth. Could she be brought back to a useful life? How she needed such astrong, clear-eyed helper in this crisis of her work! Would Zora makeone or would this blow send her to perdition? Not if Sarah Smith couldsave her, she resolved, and stared out the window where the pale reddawn was sending its first rays on the white-pillared mansion of theCresswells.

  Mrs. Grey saw the light on the columns, too, as she lay lazily in hersoft white bed. There was a certain delicious languor in the latelingering fall of Alabama that suited her perfectly. Then, too, sheliked the house and its appointments; there was not, to be sure, all theluxury that she was used to in her New York mansion, but there was acertain finish about it, an elegance and staid old-fashioned hospitalitythat appealed to her tremendously. Mrs. Grey's heart warmed to the sightof Helen in her moments of spasmodic caring for the sick and afflictedon the estate. No better guardian of her philanthropies could be foundthan these same Cresswells. She must, of course, go over and see dearSarah Smith; but really there was not much to say or to look at.

  The prospects seemed most alluring. Later, Mr. Easterly talked a whileon routine business, saying, as he turned away:

  "I am more and more impressed, Mrs. Grey, with your wisdom in placinglarge investments in the South. With peaceful social conditions thereturns will be large."

  Mrs. Grey heard this delicate flattery complacently. She had her streakof thrift, and wanted her business capacity recognized. She listenedattentively.

  "For this reason, I trust you will handle your Negro philanthropiesjudicially, as I know you will. There's dynamite in this race problemfor amateur reformers, but fortunately you have at hand wise andsympathetic advisers in the Cresswells."

  Mrs. Grey agreed entirely.

  Mary Taylor, alone of the committee, took her commission so seriously asto be anxious to begin work.

  "We are to visit the school this morning, you know," she reminded theothers, looking at her watch; "I'm afraid we're late already."

  The remark created mild consternation. It seemed that Mr. Vanderpool hadgone hunting and his wife had not yet arisen. Dr. Boldish was veryhoarse, Mr. Easterly was going to look over some plantations withColonel Cresswell, and Mr. Bocombe was engrossed in a novel.

  "Clever, but not true to life," he said.

  Finally the clergyman and Mr. Bocombe, Mrs. Grey and Mrs. Vanderpool andMiss Taylor started for the school, with Harry Cresswell, about an hourafter lunch. The delay and suppressed excitement among the little folkshad upset things considerably there, but at the sight of the visitors atthe gate Miss Smith rang the bell.

  The party came in, laughing and chatting. They greeted Miss Smithcordially. Dr. Boldish was beginning to tell a good story when a silencefell.

  The children had gathered, quietly, almost timidly, and before thedistinguished company realized it, they turned to meet that battery offour hundred eyes. A human eye is a wonderful thing when it simply waitsand watches. Not one of these little things alone would have been worthmore than a glance, but together, they became mighty, portentous. Mr.Bocombe got out his note-book and wrote furiously therein. Dr. Boldish,naturally the appointed spokesman, looked helplessly about and whisperedto Mrs. Vanderpool:

  "What on earth shall I talk about?"

  "The brotherhood of man?" suggested the lady.

  "Hardly advisable," returned Dr. Boldish, seriously, "in our friend'spresence,"--with a glance toward Cresswell. Then he arose.

  "My friends," he said, touching his finger-tips and using blank verse inA minor. "This is an auspicious day. You should be thankful for thegifts of the Lord. His bounty surrounds you--the trees, the fields, theglorious sun. He gives cotton to clothe you, corn to eat, devotedfriends to teach you. Be joyful. Be good. Above all, be thrifty and saveyour money, and do not complain and whine at your apparentdisadvantages. Remember that God did not create men equal but unequal,and set metes and bounds. It is not for us to question the wisdom of theAlmighty, but to bow humbly to His will.

  "Remember that the slavery of your people was not necessarily a crime.It was a school of work and love. It gave you noble friends, like Mr.Cresswell here." A restless stirring, and the battery of eyes was turnedupon that imperturbable gentleman, as if he were some strange animal."Love and serve them. Remember that we get, after all, little educationfrom books; rather in the fields, at the plough and in the kitchen. Letyour ambition be to serve rather than rule, to be humble followers ofthe lowly Jesus."

  With an upward glance the Rev. Dr. Boldish sat down amid a silence ashade more intense than that which had greeted him. Then slowly from thefar corner rose a thin voice, tremulously. It wavered on the air andalmost broke, then swelled in sweet, low music. Other and strongervoices gathered themselves to it, until two hundred were singing a softminor wail that gripped the hearts and tingled in the ears of thehearers. Mr. Bocombe groped with a puzzled expression to find the pocketfor his note-book; Harry Cresswell dropped his eyes, and on Mrs.Vanderpool's lips the smile died. Mary Taylor flushed, and Mrs. Greycried frankly:

  "Poor things!" she whispered.

  "Now," said Mrs. Grey, turning about, "we haven't but just a moment andwe want to take a little look at your work." She smiled graciously uponMiss Smith.

  Mrs. Grey thought the cooking-school very nice.

  "I suppose," she said, "that you furnish cooks for the county."

  "Largely," said Miss Smith. Mrs. Vanderpool looked surprised, but MissSmith added: "This county, you know, is mostly black." Mrs. Grey did notcatch the point.

  The dormitories were neat and the ladies expressed great pleasure inthem.

  "It is certainly nice for them to know what a clean place is," commentedMrs. Grey. Mr. Cresswell, however, looked at a bath-room and smiled.

  "How practical!" he said.

  "Can you not stop and see some of the classes?" Sarah Smith knew in herheart that the visit was a failure, still she would do her part to theend.

  "I doubt if we shall have time," Mrs. Grey returned, as they walked on."Mr. Cresswell expects friends to dinner."

  "What a magnificent intelligence office," remarked Mr. Bocombe, "forfurnishing servants to the nation. I saw splendid material for cooks andmaids."

  "And plough-boys," added Cresswell.

  "And singers," said Mary Taylor.

  "Well, now that's just my idea," said Mrs. Grey, "that these schoolsshould furnish trained servants and laborers for the South. Isn't thatyour idea, Miss Smith?"

  "Not exactly," the lady replied, "or at least I shouldn't put it justthat way. My idea is that this school should furnish men and women whocan work and earn an honest l
iving, train up families aright, andperform their duties as fathers, mothers, and citizens."

  "Yes--yes, precisely," said Mrs. Grey, "that's what I meant."

  "I think the whites can attend to the duties of citizenship withouthelp," observed Mr. Cresswell.

  "Don't let the blacks meddle in politics," said Dr. Boldish.

  "I want to make these children full-fledged men and women, strong,self-reliant, honest, without any 'ifs' and 'ands' to theirdevelopment," insisted Miss Smith.

  "Of course, and that is just what Mr. Cresswell wants. Isn't it, Mr.Cresswell?" asked Mrs. Grey.

  "I think I may say yes," Mr. Cresswell agreed. "I certainly want thesepeople to develop as far as they can, although Miss Smith and I woulddiffer as to their possibilities. But it is not so much in the generaltheory of Negro education as in its particular applications where ourchief differences would lie. I may agree that a boy should learn higherarithmetic, yet object to his loafing in plough-time. I might want toeducate some girls but not girls like Zora."

  Mrs. Vanderpool glanced at Mr. Cresswell, smiling to herself.

  Mrs. Grey broke in, beaming:

  "That's just it, dear Miss Smith,--just it. Your heart is good, but youneed strong practical advice. You know we weak women are so impractical,as my poor Job so often said. Now, I'm going to arrange to endow thisschool with at least--at least a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Onecondition is that my friend, Mr. Cresswell here, and these othergentlemen, including sound Northern business men like Mr. Easterly,shall hold this money in trust, and expend it for your school as theythink best."

  "Mr. Cresswell would be their local representative?" asked Miss Smithslowly with white face.

  "Why yes--yes, of course."

  There was a long, tense silence. Then the firm reply,

  "Mrs. Grey, I thank you, but I cannot accept your offer."

  Sarah Smith's voice was strong, the tremor had left her hands. She hadexpected something like this, of course; yet when it came--somehow itfailed to stun. She would not turn over the direction of the school, orthe direction of the education of these people, to those who were mostopposed to their education. Therefore, there was no need to hesitate;there was no need to think the thing over--she had thought it over--andshe looked into Mrs. Grey's eyes and with gathering tears in her ownsaid:

  "Again, I thank you very much, Mrs. Grey."

  Mrs. Grey was a picture of the most emphatic surprise, and Mr. Cresswellmoved to the window. Mrs. Grey looked helplessly at her companions.

  "But--I don't understand, Miss Smith--why can't you accept my offer?"

  "Because you ask me to put my school in control of those who do not wishfor the best interests of black folk, and in particular I object to Mr.Cresswell," said Miss Smith, slowly but very distinctly, "because hisrelation to the forces of evil in this community has been such that hecan direct no school of mine." Mrs. Vanderpool moved toward the door andMr. Cresswell bowing slightly followed. Dr. Boldish looked indignant andMr. Bocombe dove after his note-book. Mary Taylor, her head in a whirl,came forward. She felt that in some way she was responsible for thisdreadful situation and she wanted desperately to save matters from finaldisaster.

  "Come," she said, "Mrs. Grey, we'll talk this matter over again later. Iam sure Miss Smith does not mean quite all she says--she is tired andnervous. You join the others and don't wait for me and I will be alongdirectly."

  Mrs. Grey was only too glad to escape and Mr. Bocombe got a chance totalk. He drew out his note-book.

  "Awfully interesting," he said, "awfully. Now--er--let's see--oh, yes.Did you notice how unhealthy the children looked? Race is undoubtedlydying out; fact. No hope. Weak. No spontaneity either--rather languid,did you notice? Yes, and their heads--small and narrow--no braincapacity. They can't concentrate; notice how some slept when Dr. Boldishwas speaking? Mr. Cresswell says they own almost no land here; think ofit? This land was worth only ten dollars an acre a decade ago, he says.Negroes might have bought all and been rich. Very shiftless--and thatsinging. Now, I wonder where they got the music? Imitation, of course."And so he rattled on, noting not the silence of the others.

  As the carriage drove off Mary turned to Miss Smith.

  "Now, Miss Smith," she began--but Miss Smith looked at her, and saidsternly, "Sit down."

  Mary Taylor sat down. She had been so used to lecturing the older womanthat the sudden summoning of her well known sternness against herselftook her breath, and she sat awkwardly like the school girl that she waswaiting for Miss Smith to speak. She felt suddenly very young and veryhelpless--she who had so jauntily set out to solve this mighty problemby a waving of her wand. She saw with a swelling of pity the drawn andstricken face of her old friend and she started up.

  "Sit down," repeated Miss Smith harshly. "Mary Taylor, you are a fool.You are not foolish, for the foolish learn; you are simply a fool. Youwill never learn; you have blundered into this life work of mine andwell nigh ruined it. Whether I can yet save it God alone knows. You haveblundered into the lives of two loving children, and sent one wanderingaimless on the face of the earth and the other moaning in yonder chamberwith death in her heart. You are going to marry the man that soughtZora's ruin when she was yet a child because you think of hisaristocratic pose and pretensions built on the poverty, crime, andexploitation of six generations of serfs. You'll marry him and--"

  But Miss Taylor leapt to her feet with blazing cheeks.

  "How dare you?" she screamed, beside herself.

  "But God in heaven help you if you do," finished Miss Smith, calmly.