The Quest of the Silver Fleece

by W. E. B. Dubois

  As for herself, once she had accomplished the marriage and paid the mortgage on the school out of her legacy, she would go abroad and in travel seek forgetfulness and healing. There had been no formal divorce, and so far as she was concerned there never would be; but the separation from her husband and America would be forever.

  Her brother came out of the office, nodded casually, for they had little intercourse these days, and rode away. She rushed in to Miss Smith and found her sitting there—straight, upright, composed in all save that the tears were streaming down her face and she was making no effort to stop them.

  “Why—Miss Smith!” she faltered.

  Miss Smith pointed to a paper. Mrs. Cresswell picked it up curiously. It was an official notification to the trustees of the Smith School of a legacy of two hundred thousand dollars together with the Cresswell house and plantation. Mrs. Cresswell sat down in open-mouthed astonishment. Twice she tried to speak, but there were so many things to say that she could not choose.

  “Tell Zora,” Miss Smith at last managed to say.

  Zora was dreaming again. Somehow, the old dream-life, with its glorious phantasies, had come silently back, richer and sweeter than ever. There was no tangible reason why, and yet today she had shut herself in her den. Searching down in the depths of her trunk, she drew forth that filmy cloud of white—silk-bordered and half finished to a gown. Why were her eyes wet today and her mind on the Silver Fleece? It was an anniversary, and perhaps she still remembered that moment, that supreme moment before the mob. She half slipped on, half wound about her, the white cloud of cloth, standing with parted lips, looking into the long mirror and gleaming in the fading day like midnight gowned in mists and stars. Abruptly there came a peremptory knocking at the door.

  “Zora! Zora!” sounded Mrs. Cresswell’s voice. Forgetting her informal attire, she opened the door, fearing some mishap. Mrs. Cresswell poured out the news. Zora received it in such motionless silence that Mary wondered at her want of feeling. At last, however, she said happily to Zora:

  “Well, the battle’s over, isn’t it?”

  “No, it’s just begun.”

  “Just begun?” echoed Mary in amazement.

  “Think of the servile black folk, the half awakened restless whites, the fat land waiting for the harvest, the masses panting to know—why, the battle is scarcely even begun.”

  “Yes, I guess that’s so,” Mary began to comprehend. “We’ll thank God it has begun, though.”

  “Thank God!” Zora reverently repeated.

  “Come, let’s go back to poor, dear Miss Smith,” suggested Mary.

  “I can’t come just now—but pretty soon.”

  “Why? Oh, I see; you’re trying on something—how pretty and becoming! Well, hurry.”

  As they stood together, the white woman deemed the moment opportune; she slipped her arm about the black woman’s waist and began:

  “Zora, I’ve had something on my mind for a long time, and I shouldn’t wonder if you had thought of the same thing.”

  “What is it?”

  “Bles and Emma.”

  “What of them?”

  “Their liking for each other.”

  Zora bent a moment and caught up the folds of the Fleece.

  “I hadn’t noticed it,” she said in a low voice.

  “Well, you’re busy, you see. They’ve been very much together—his taking her to her charges, bringing her back, and all that. I know they love each other; yet something holds them apart, afraid to show their love. Do you know—I’ve wondered if—quite unconciously, it is you? You know Bles used to imagine himself in love with you, just as he did afterward with Miss Wynn.”

  “Miss—Wynn?”

  “Yes, the Washington girl. But he got over that and you straightened him out finally. Still, Emma probably thinks yours is the prior claim, knowing, of course, nothing of facts. And Bles knows she thinks of him and you, and I’m convinced if you say the word, they’d love and marry.”

  Zora walked silently with her to the door, where, looking out, she saw Bles and Emma coming from Aunt Rachel’s. He was helping her from the carriage with smiling eyes, and her innocent blue eyes were fastened on him.

  Zora looked long and searchingly.

  “Please run and tell them of the legacy,” she begged. “I—I will come—in a moment.” And Mrs. Cresswell hurried out.

  Zora turned back steadily to her room, and locked herself in. After all, why shouldn’t it be? Why had it not occurred to her before in her blindness? If she had wanted him—and ah, God! was not all her life simply the want of him?—why had she not bound him to her when he had offered himself? Why had she not bound him to her? She knew as she asked—because she had wanted all, not a part—everything, love, respect and perfect faith—not one thing could she spare then—not one thing. And now, oh, God! she had dreamed that it was all hers, since that night of death and circling flame when they looked at each other soul to soul. But he had not meant anything. It was pity she had seen there, not love; and she rose and walked the room slowly, fast and faster.

  With trembling hands she drew the Silver Fleece round her. Her head swam again and the blood flashed in her eyes. She heard a calling in the swamp, and the shadow of Elspeth seemed to hover over her, claiming her for her own, dragging her down, down … She rushed through the swamp. The lagoon lay there before her presently, gleaming in the darkness—cold and still, and in it swam an awful shape.

  She held her burning head—was not everything plain? Was not everything clear? This was Sacrifice! This was the Atonement for the unforgiven sin. Emma’s was the pure soul which she must offer up to God; for it was God, a cold and mighty God, who had given it to Bles—her Bles. It was well; God willed it. But could she live? Must she live? Did God ask that, too?

  All at once she stood straight; her whole body grew tense, alert. She heard no sound behind her, but knew he was there, and braced herself. She must be true. She must be just. She must pay the uttermost farthing.

  “Bles,” she called faintly, but did not turn her head.

  “Zora!”

  “Bles,” she choked, but her voice came stronger, “I know—all. Emma is a good girl. I helped bring her up myself and did all I could for her and she—she is pure; marry her.”

  His voice came slow and firm:

  “Emma? But I don’t love Emma. I love—some one else.”

  Her heart bounded and again was still. It was that Washington girl then. She answered dully, groping for words, for she was tired:

  “Who is it?”

  “The best woman in all the world, Zora.”

  “And is”—she struggled at the word madly—“is she pure?”

  “She is more than pure.”

  “Then you must marry her, Bles.”

  “I am not worthy of her,” he answered, sinking before her.

  Then at last illumination dawned upon her blindness. She stood very still and lifted up her eyes. The swamp was living, vibrant, tremulous. There where the first long note of night lay shot with burning crimson, burst in sudden radiance the wide beauty of the moon. There pulsed a glory in the air. Her little hands groped and wandered over his close-curled hair, and she sobbed, deep voiced:

  “Will you—marry me, Bles?”

  L’ENVOI

  Lend me thine ears, O God the Reader, whose Fathers aforetime sent mine down into the land of Egypt, into this House of Bondage. Lay not these words aside for a moment’s phantasy, but lift up thine eyes upon the Horror in this land;—the maiming and mocking and murdering of my people, and the prisonment of their souls. Let my people go, O Infinite One, lest the world shudder at

  The End

  Reader’s Companion

  1. By the end of the novel, The Quest of the Silver Fleece reveals itself as a tale largely concerned with exploring the complex issues of morality in American life. Considering W.E.B. Du Bois’s seeming affinity for the power of the “Word” throughout the story, how would you assess his characteri
zation of Zora’s mother, the witch Elspeth? Described as “old … black and wrinkled with yellow fangs, red hanging lips and wicked eyes,” Elspeth potentially represents many things for Du Bois racially. What are the racial implications of her crude characterization? What is to be made of the nature and fact of her death? How important is her ghostly “return” toward the end of the book?

  2. As a place of both oppression and redemption for Zora, the swamp is a contradictory location throughout the novel. What is the significance of Zora’s early departure from its confines? Is her flight to Miss Smith’s school and ultimately to the North a necessary one? What is Du Bois’s interest in staging her triumphant return to the school, the South, and the swamp? Why must the cabin of Elspeth be made to “tremble, sigh and disappear” from its boundaries by novel’s end?

  3. At the outset, Bles and Zora quickly forge what seems to be an important bond. What is the significance of their differences? What larger issues of black life loom at the heart of their coupling?

  4. The romantic pairing of Zora and Bles is soon ruptured when it is revealed that Zora has lost her “innocence” and is not “pure” due to her early sexual compromise by her master. Why is the issue of purity so important to Bles? How does gender figure in his quick and summary refusal of Zora as a suitable partner? How are traditional conceptions of female virture complicated by Du Bois’s representation of Zora’s and other black girls’ brutal violation? What is Du Bois suggesting about the nature and character of the institution of slavery?

  5. Zora’s beauty and intelligence are the subject of much speculation and interest throughout. Compare her characterization in the novel’s early stages to her depiction toward its end. What differences emerge? How are her training at Miss Smith’s school and her relationship to Mrs. Vanderpool significant? What is Du Bois suggesting about the role of education in ending black suffering? Why is it important that Du Bois has placed a black woman at the center of this novel of black pain and resistance?

  6. Through different means, Bles and Zora acquire knowledge and education and emerge as vanguards in their community. What issues of class are at work here? How significant is language? How does Du Bois’s famous notion of “The Talented Tenth” figure in the novel?

  7. A central figure throughout, Miss Sarah Smith is presented as a white woman whose “noble efforts” over three decades to maintain a “Negro school” confirm her commitment to the upward mobility of black people. Looking at her expressions in defense of black humanity and those declaring her contempt for white exploitation and superiority, how would you describe her notions of race in America? Has she succeeded in transcending its pitfalls? Or does she continue to support some notions of white subjectivity and superiority?

  8. As a title, The Quest of the Silver Fleece is well chosen. Not only is the novel concerned with that special crop of cotton Zora and Bles succeed in producing in the swamp, but it is more generally interested in examining the historically central role of cotton in determining the economic future of the nation’s inhabitants. What is the connection between race and capitalism in the novel? What issues of morality does Du Bois bring up in this context? What is to be made of Bles’s negotiation of this complex terrain? How significant is Zora’s socially conscious economic venture toward the end of the book?

  9. At the moment of his death, Colonel Cresswell grants Emma, his mulatto and previously unacknowledged granddaughter, a measure of financial legacy. Two hundred thousand dollars and the Cresswell home and plantation are later revealed as bequeathed to Miss Smith’s school. What is the significance of Colonel Cresswell’s deathbed generosity? How do you view the issue of white philanthropy throughout the novel?

  10. Upon his return to the South after his “failure” in Washington, Bles asks Zora to marry him and she refuses. Why does Zora decline this offer? What accounts for her change of heart by novel’s end? Why is it significant that ultimately she asks for Bles’s hand in marriage?

  About the Author

  W.E.B. Du Bois (1868–1963) is regarded as one of the most influential black leaders of the twentieth century. Born in Great Barrington, Massachusetts, Du Bois attended Fisk University and then Harvard University, going on to conduct sociological work at the University of Pennsylvania. His first collection of essays, The Souls of Black Folk, has been called by many the most important book ever written by an African American. Published in 1903, it identified the color line as the defining problem of the twentieth century.

  Du Bois helped found America’s premier civil rights organization, the NAACP, and moved to New York in 1910 to found The Crisis, the association’s magazine. He also wrote two novels, The Quest of the Silver Fleece (1911) and Dark Princess: A Romance (1928). From the 1920s and into the 1940s, Du Bois’s writings became more militant and controversial as he spoke out vehemently against imperialism, and he continued his essay writing in books like Black Folk: Then and Now (1934) and Dusk of Dawn: An Essay Towards an Autobiography of a Race Concept (1940). After moving to Ghana at the behest of President Kwame Nkrumah, Du Bois died at ninety-four as a Ghanaian citizen.