UP TO DATE ARISTOCRACY IN A NEGRO CHURCH.
Erma Wysong was now happily located at Mrs. Turner's, little dreaming,
innocent soul, of the motives and midnight plottings that had brought
her there. Ignorant of all this, she was giving God thanks for having
secured for her such an ideal place of service. In this happy, joyous,
light-hearted frame of mind, she clads herself in her most lovely
apparel on the Sabbath and goes forth to church. While she is on her way
there, let us acquaint ourselves with the preparations made to receive
her.
The fact that Erma Wysong, a graduate of the High School, had entered
service, shocked the Negro population of the city. Educated members of
the race, the school teachers, the doctors, the lawyers and the recent
girl graduates were simply enraged. Ellen Sanders and Margaret Marston
had canvassed the whole city and had persuaded the entire circle of
educated colored persons in the city to come out to Erma's church to aid
them in giving her such a snubbing as had never as yet been administered
to a mortal. This was their ambition's end just now, the complete
snubbing, crushing of Erma for "throwing away her education in a most
shameful and disgraceful way by going to work." Their plan was to have
the educated and professional people to sit together in that section of
the church where Erma usually sat; and she was to be thus forced out of
her seat and out of their midst. If by any means she got a seat near
them they were to get up in a body and move to another part of the
church. So, on Sunday morning this group was out early and in full
force. As the hour of the service drew on they grew restless from
thinking over the stinging rebuke that they were about to administer to
Erma. Ellen Sanders had turned her head and shoulders completely around
from facing the pulpit and her large flashing eyes were keeping guard on
the door so that she might see Erma when she first appeared in the
doorway.
"There she is," said Ellen, flopping herself around, assuming an
attitude apparently as stiff and immovable as a granite cliff.
All turned to look and then snatched their eyes away in disdain. Erma
came forward unsuspectingly, a sweet smile upon her lovely face. Her
glistening black hair nestled in lovely coils on her queenly head. Her
brown eyes, resting complacently beneath lovely eyebrows, sparkled with
a quiet glow and a tenderness known only to the innocent and happy at
heart. Her dress was a flawless fit and brought out all the graces of
her divinely moulded form. This pure, blushing, aspiring, orphan girl
went up the aisle of her church and stopped opposite her accustomed
seat, expecting the occupants to make room for her. Instead of doing
this, they got closer together.
Erma, astonished, looked about her, and the angry, scornful looks cast
at her caused a stinging sensation in her face as though it had been
stuck by so many sharp needles. In her confusion she mechanically tried
to enter seat after seat, but was barricaded out. Finding it to be their
intention to prevent her from sitting anywhere in that section of the
church, she went forward to the "Amen corner," and finding a vacant seat
there, she sat down.
The fact that Erma Wysong, a servant, had taken an "Amen corner" seat in
the Leigh Street Church stirred the group to fever heat. Ellen gave a
faint shriek of horror--one about the size to express righteous
indignation in a Christian church on the Sabbath day. A Negro doctor got
up and went to two of the ushers and said, "Sirs, I appeal to you! The
dignity of this church is outraged! Look yonder where that servant girl
sits! The idea! This is the most aristocratic Negro church in this city
and yet you allow that girl to sit there!"
"We didn't know that she was going to sit there," said an usher,
obsequiously.
"Well, now you know it, sir! Do you think that the white folks would
allow a white servant girl to sit on the front pew in their church? We
shall never amount to anything as a race until we learn to do as white
people," said the indignant doctor.
"Well, what would you say do, doctor?" inquired the same obsequious
usher.
"What do! what do! Why, what would white people do? Put her out! Put her
out!" exclaimed the doctor.
The ushers nearly tumbled over each other to get to Erma to do what they
supposed white people would do to a white servant girl under similar
circumstances. Between these two ushers, Erma was escorted out of the
church, her face burning with shame. They did not turn her loose until
she was full on the sidewalk, when they left her, returning to worship
the God of the Nazarene carpenter lad.
Erma looked up and down the street in a lost sort of way. A single pair
of tears came into her eyes and a sob was forced out of her throat by
her throbbing heart. Thoughts of her lonely, unprotected condition in
the world crowded upon her; visions of her departed mother floated
before her eyes; the thought of being ejected from God's house in
seeming disgrace came down upon her with terrific force and the poor
girl sobbed bitterly, burying her face in her handkerchief. She felt an
arm steal around her neck and heard a voice murmur, "Pore chile, pore
chile." It was the arm and voice of Aunt Mollie Marston, who had
followed Erma out of the church.
She said, "I hearn dat niggah doctah tell em ter put you out kase white
folks would hab dun it. Now, I 'grees wid you fully, Miss Erm. We is
lettin dese white folks teach us too much. Our church hez dun away wid
dem good ole soul-stirrin' himes in which my soul jes' 'peared ter float
right up ter God, and now we hez got a choir whut sings de himes which
gibs de feelin's of white people's souls which ain't allus lack ourn.
An' our elder is done quit preachin' an' gwine ter readin' de Gospil ter
us, an' de Speerit hes firsaken him. An' dey hez been tellin' us ter do
lack white folks an' let our feelin's stay damned up, wen it do feel so
good ter let um out. An' chile, bless yer soul, dey doa'n' let me shout
at church fir fear white folks would laugh at 'um, an' fir fear dey
would lose de name ub ''Ristocrats.' But, bless yer soul, hunny, I
shouts at home."
So saying, Aunt Mollie drew her arm tighter about Erma's waist, and
these two religious outcasts went marching home, Erma crying and Aunt
Mollie singing all the while,
"De ole time relijun,
De ole time relijun,
De ole time relijun
Am good ernuff fir me."