The Quest of the Silver Fleece: A Novel

by W. E. B. Du Bois

  _Twenty-six_

  CONGRESSMAN CRESSWELL

  The election of Harry Cresswell to Congress was a very simple matter.The Colonel and his son drove to town and consulted the Judge; togetherthey summoned the sheriff and the local member of the State legislature.

  "I think it's about time that we Cresswells asked for a little of thepolitical pie," the Colonel smilingly opened.

  "Well, what do you want?" asked the Judge.

  "Harry wants to go to Congress."

  The Judge hesitated. "We'd half promised that to Caldwell," he objected.

  "It will be a little costly this year, too," suggested the sheriff,tentatively.

  "About how much?" asked the Colonel.

  "At least five thousand," said the Legislator.

  The Colonel said nothing. He simply wrote a check and the matter wassettled. In the Fall Harry Cresswell was declared elected. There werefour hundred and seventy-two votes cast but the sheriff added a cipher.He said it would look better.

  Early December found the Cresswells domiciled in a small house in DuPont Circle, Washington. They had an automobile and four servants, andthe house was furnished luxuriously. Mary Taylor Cresswell, standing inher morning room and looking out on the flowers of the square, toldherself that few people in the world had cause to be as happy as she.She was tastefully gowned, in a way to set off her blonde beauty and herdelicate rounded figure. She was surrounded with wealth, and above all,she was in that atmosphere of aristocracy for which she had alwaysyearned; and already she was acquiring that poise of the head, and amanner of directing the servants, which showed her born to the purple.

  She had cause to be extremely happy, she told herself this morning, andyet she was puzzled to understand why she was not. Why was she restlessand vaguely ill at ease so often these days?

  One matter, indeed, did worry her; but that would right itself in time,she was sure. She had always pictured herself as directing her husband'swork. She did not plan to step in and demand a share; she knew fromexperience with her brother that a woman must prove her usefulness to aman before he will admit it, and even then he may be silent. Sheintended gradually and tactfully to relieve her husband of careconnected with his public life so that, before he realized it, she wouldbe his guiding spirit and his inspiration. She had dreamed the detailsof doing this so long that it seemed already done, and she could imagineno obstacle to its realization. And yet she found herself today nonearer her goal than when first she married. Not because Mr. Cresswelldid not share his work, but because, apparently, he had no work, noduties, no cares. At first, in the dim glories of the honeymoon, thisseemed but part of his delicate courtesy toward her, and it pleased herdespite her thrifty New England nature; but now that they were settledin Washington, the election over and Congress in session, it reallyseemed time for Work and Life to begin in dead earnest, and New EnglandMary was dreaming mighty dreams and golden futures.

  But Harry apparently was as content as ever with doing nothing. He aroseat ten, dined at seven, and went to bed between midnight and sunrise.There was some committee meetings and much mail, but Mary was admittedto knowledge of none of these. The obvious step, of course, would be toset him at work; but from this undertaking Mary unconsciously recoiled.She had already recognized that while her tastes and her husband's weremostly alike, they were also strikingly different in many respects. Theyagreed in the daintiness of things, the elegance of detail; but they didnot agree always as to the things themselves. Given the picture, theywould choose the same frame--but they would not choose the same picture.They liked the same voice, but not the same song; the same company, butnot the same conversation. Of course, Mary reflected, frowning at theflowers--of course, this must always be so when two human beings arethrown into new and intimate association. In time they would grow tosweet communion; only, she hoped the communion would be on tastes nearerhers than those he sometimes manifested.

  She turned impatiently from the window with a feeling of loneliness. Butwhy lonely? She idly fingered a new book on the table and then put itdown sharply. There had been several attempts at reading aloud betweenthem some evenings ago, and this book reminded her of them. She hadbought Jane Addams' "Newer Ideals of Peace," and he had yawned over itundisguisedly. Then he had brought this novel, and--well, she had balkedat the second chapter, and he had kissed her and called her his "littleprude." She did not want to be a prude; she hated to seem so, and hadfor some time prided herself on emancipation from narrow New Englandprejudices. For example, she had not objected to wine at dinner; it hadseemed indeed rather fine, imparting, as it did, an old-fashionedflavor; but she did not like the whiskey, and Harry at times appeared tobecome just a bit too lively--nothing excessive, of course, but his eyesand the smell and the color were a little too suggestive. And yet he wasso kind and good, and when he came in at evening he bent so gallantlyfor his kiss, and laid fresh flowers before her: could anything havebeen more thoughtful and knightly?

  Just here again she was puzzled; with her folk, hard work and inflexibleduty were of prime importance; they were the rock foundation; and shesomehow had always counted on the courtesies of life as added to them,making them sweet and beautiful. But in this world, not perhaps so muchwith Harry as with others of his set, the depths beneath the gravelyinclined head, the deferential smile and ceremonious action, the lightclever converse, had sounded strangely hollow once or twice when she hadessayed to sound them, and a certain fear to look and see possessed her.

  The bell rang, and she was a little startled at the fright that struckher heart. She did not analyze it. In reality--pride forbade her toadmit it--she feared it was a call of some of Harry's friends: somelanguid, assured Southern ladies, perilously gowned, with veiled disdainfor this interloping Northerner and her strong mind. Especially wasthere one from New Orleans, tall and dark--

  But it was no caller. It was simply some one named Stillings to see Mr.Cresswell. She went down to see him--he might be a constituent--andfound a smirky brown man, very apologetic.

  "You don't know me--does you, Mrs. Cresswell?" said Stillings. He knewwhen it was diplomatic to forget his grammar and assume his dialect.

  "Why--no."

  "You remember I worked for Mr. Harry and served you-all lunch one day."

  "Oh, yes--why, yes! I remember now very well."

  "Well, I wants to see Mr. Harry very much; could I wait in the backhall?"

  Mary started to have him wait in the front hall, but she thought betterof it and had him shown back. Less than an hour later her husbandentered and she went quickly to him. He looked worn and white and tired,but he laughed her concern lightly off.

  "I'll be in earlier tonight," he declared.

  "Is the Congressional business very heavy?"

  He laughed so hilariously that she felt uncomfortable, which heobserved.

  "Oh, no," he answered deftly; "not very." And as they moved toward thedining-room Mary changed the subject.

  "Oh," she exclaimed, suddenly remembering. "There is a man--a coloredman--waiting to see you in the back hall, but I guess he can wait untilafter lunch."

  They ate leisurely.

  "There's going to be racing out at the park this evening," said Harry."Want to go?"

  "I was going to hear an art lecture at the Club," Mary returned, andgrew thoughtful; for here walked her ghost again. Of course, the Clubwas an affair with more of gossip than of intellectual effort, buttoday, largely through her own suggestion, an art teacher of Europeanreputation was going to lecture, and Mary preferred it to the company ofthe race track. And--just as certainly--her husband didn't.

  "Don't forget the man, dear," she reminded him; but he was buried in hispaper, frowning.

  "Look at that," he said finally. She glanced at thehead-lines--"Prominent Negro Politician Candidate for High Office atHands of New Administration. B. Alwyn of Alabama."

  "Why, it's Bles!" she said, her face lighting as his darkened.

  "An impudent Negro," he voiced his disgust. "If the
y must appointdarkies why can't they get tractable ones like my nigger Stillings."

  "Stillings?" she repeated. "Why, he's the man that's waiting."

  "Sam, is it? Used to be one of our servants--you remember? Wants toborrow more money, I presume." He went down-stairs, after first helpinghimself to a glass of whiskey, and then gallantly kissing his wife. Mrs.Cresswell was more unsatisfied than usual. She could not help feelingthat Mr. Cresswell was treating her about as he treated his wine--as anindulgence; a loved one, a regular one, but somehow not as the realityand prose of life, unless--she started at the thought--his life was allindulgence. Having nothing else to do, she went out and paraded thestreets, watching the people who were happy enough to be busy.

  Cresswell and Stillings had a long conference, and when Stillingshastened away he could not forbear cutting a discreet pigeon-wing as herounded the corner. He had been promised the backing of the wholeSouthern delegation in his schemes.

  That night Teerswell called on him in his modest lodgings, where overhot whiskey and water they talked.

  "The damned Southern upstart," growled Teerswell, forgetting Stillings'birth-place. "Do you mean to say he's actually slated for the place?"

  "He's sure of it, unless something turns up."

  "Well, who'd have dreamed it?" Teerswell mixed another stiff dram.

  "And that isn't all," came Sam Stillings' unctuous voice.

  Teerswell glanced at him. "What else?" he asked, pausing with thesteaming drink poised aloft.

  "If I'm not mistaken, Alwyn intends to marry Miss Wynn."

  "You lie!" the other suddenly yelled with an oath, overturning histumbler and striding across the floor. "Do you suppose she'd look atthat black--"

  "Well, see here," said the astute Stillings, checking the details uponhis fingers. "They visit Senator Smith's together; he takes her homefrom the Treble Clef; they say he talked to nobody else at her party;she recommends him for the campaign--"

  "What!" Teerswell again exploded. But Stillings continued smoothly:

  "Oh, I have ways of finding things out. She corresponds with him duringthe campaign; she asks Smith to make him Register; and he calls on herevery night."

  Teerswell sat down limply.

  "I see," he groaned. "It's all up. She's jilted me--and I--and I--"

  "I don't see as it's all up yet," Stillings tried to reassure him.

  "But didn't you say they were engaged?"

  "I think they are; but--well, you know Carrie Wynn better than I do:suppose, now--suppose he should lose the appointment?"

  "But you say that's sure."

  "Unless something turns up."

  "But what _can_ turn up?"

  "We might turn something."

  "What--what--I tell you man, I'd--I'd do anything to down that nigger. Ihate him. If you'll help me I'll do anything for you."

  Stillings arose and carefully opening the hall door peered out. Then hecame back and, seating himself close to Teerswell, pushed aside thewhiskey.

  "Teerswell," he whispered, "you know I was working to be Register of theTreasury. Well, now, when the scheme of making Alwyn Treasurer came upthey determined to appoint a Southern white Republican and give me aplace under Alwyn. Now, if Alwyn fails to land I've got no chance forthe bigger place, but I've got a good chance to be Register according tothe first plan. I helped in the campaign; I've got the Negro secretsocieties backing me and--I don't mind telling you--the solid SouthernCongressional delegation. I'm trying now ostensibly for achief-clerkship under Bles, and I'm pretty sure of it: it paystwenty-five hundred. See here: if we can make Bles do some fool talkingand get it into the papers, he'll be ditched, and I'll be Register."

  "Great!" shouted Teerswell.

  "Wait--wait. Now, if I get the job, how would you like to be myassistant?"

  "Like it? Why, great Jehoshaphat! I'd marry Carrie--but how can I helpyou?"

  "This way. I want to be better known among influential Negroes. Youintroduce me and let me make myself solid. Especially I must get in MissWynn's set so that both of us can watch her and Alwyn, and make herfriends ours."

  "I'll do it--shake!" And Stillings put his oily hand into Teerswell'snervous grip.

  "Now, here," Stillings went on, "you stow all that jealousy and heavytragedy. Treat Alwyn well and call on Miss Wynn as usual--see?"

  "It's a hard pill--but all right."

  "Leave the rest to me; I'm hand in glove with Alwyn. I'll put stuff intohim that'll make him wave the bloody shirt at the next meeting of theBethel Literary--see? Then I'll go to Cresswell and say, 'Dangerousnigger--, just as I told you.' He'll begin to move things. You see?Cresswell is in with Smith--both directors in the big CottonCombine--and Smith will call Alwyn down. Then we'll think further."

  "Stillings, you look like a fool, but you're a genius." And Teerswellfairly hugged him. A few more details settled, and some more whiskeyconsumed, and Teerswell went home at midnight in high spirits. Stillingslooked into the glass and scowled.

  "Look like a fool, do I?" he mused. "Well, I ain't!"

  Congressman Cresswell was stirred to his first political activity by thehint given him through Stillings. He not only had a strong personaldislike for Alwyn, but he regarded the promise to him of a high officeas a menace to the South.

  The second speech which Alwyn made at the Bethel Literary was, asStillings foresaw, a reply to the stinging criticisms of certain coloredpapers engineered by Teerswell, who said that Alwyn had been bribed toremain loyal to the Republicans by a six thousand dollar office. Alwynhad been cut to the quick, and his reply was a straight out defence ofNegro rights and a call to the Republican Party to redeem its pledges.

  Caroline Wynn, seeing the rocks for which her political craft washeaded, adroitly steered several newspaper reports into the wastebasket, but Stillings saw to it that a circumstantial account was in the_Colored American_, and that a copy of this paper was in CongressmanCresswell's hands. Cresswell lost no time in calling on Senator Smithand pointing out to him that Bles Alwyn was a dangerous Negro: seekingsocial equality, hating white people, and scheming to make trouble. Hewas too young and heady. It would be fatal to give such a man office andinfluence; fatal for the development of the South, and bad for theCotton Combine.

  Senator Smith was unconvinced. Alwyn struck him as a well-balancedfellow, and he thought he deserved the office. He would, however, warnhim to make no further speeches like that of last night. Cresswellmentioned Stillings as a good, inoffensive Negro who knew his place andcould be kept track of.

  "Stillings is a good man," admitted Smith; "but Alwyn is better.However, I'll bear what you say in mind."

  Cresswell found Mr. Easterly in Mrs. Vanderpool's parlor, and thatgentleman was annoyed at the news.

  "I especially picked out this Alwyn because he was Southern andtractable, and seemed to have sense enough to know how to say well whatwe wanted to say."

  "When, as a matter of fact," drawled Mrs. Vanderpool, "he was simplyhonest."

  "The South won't stand it," Cresswell decisively affirmed.

  "Well--" began Mr. Easterly.

  "See here," interrupted Mrs. Vanderpool. "I'm interested in Alwyn; infact, an honest man in politics, even if he is black, piques mycuriosity. Give him a chance and I'll warrant he'll develop all thedesirable traits of a first class office-holder."

  Easterly hesitated. "We must not offend the South, and we must placatethe Negroes," he said.

  "The right sort of Negro--one like Stillings--appointed to a reasonableposition, would do both," opined Cresswell.

  "It evidently didn't," Mrs. Vanderpool interjected.

  Cresswell arose. "I tell you, Mr. Easterly, I object--it mustn't gothrough." He took his leave.

  Mrs. Vanderpool did not readily give up her plea for Alwyn, and badeZora get Mr. Smith on the telephone for discussion.

  "Well," reported Easterly, hanging up the receiver, "we may land him. Itseems that he is engaged to a Washington school-teacher, and Smith saysshe has him well in han
d. She's a pretty shrewd proposition, andunderstands that Alwyn's only chance now lies in keeping his mouth shut.We may land him," he repeated.

  "Engaged!" gasped Mrs. Vanderpool.

  Zora quietly closed the door.