This P. M., Miss O. and myself accompanied Rev. E. P. Smith to listen to his "colored preaching," as he termed it, in the same church in which is the school for the colored children. It was a rare treat and the first colored audience I ever saw.
Do not imagine a squalid, ragged, filthy audience; but one where silks, ribbons, velvet, broadcloth, spotless linen and beavers predominated, with a sprinkling of beautifully carved or silver, and gold-headed canes, with about the usual proportion of fops to the canes that one may find in an audience of equal size, of our own color. Some of these persons are free and own property. But one would scarcely covet some of the ladies their silks and velvets, when she learns that it is purchased with the avails of extra labor at night after the day's work "for de missus is done."
But so it is. And although the church was built some years ago with their money, yet it was held in trust by white people because "negroes cannot own property."
I have been repeatedly told that I would turn pro-slavery when I came south and saw how things really were. I do not feel any of the first symptoms as yet, but quite the contrary. Instead, I'm getting to believe that the day when the Emancipation Document was sent forth, was that of which it is said "a nation shall be born in a day," and I'm learning to think that this gospel, which is
"Writ in burnished rows of steel,"
and read by
"The watch-fires of an hundred circling camps,"
is the "word" which "makes men free," and will forever strike the manacles from the oppressed bondsman.
One indignant white man, during the first prayer which was made by a negro preacher, and in which he asked for blessing upon the Union arms and freedom for slaves, left his seat and walked the whole length of the church, with heavy tread and with his hat on his head, while a voice called out,"Take your hat off!"
During the closing prayer the negro very properly prayed, "Oh Lord, wilt dou give de people good manners and teach 'em right behaviour wen dey come into de house ob de Lord!"
The sermon was the Bible-story of the death of James and the release of Peter from prison. It was told in a simple, earnest, impressive manner, to a deeply attentive, impressible audience. When he drew the picture of the angel entering the prison, and taking Peter away as easily as though "his chains were made of wax and a lighted candle was held beneath them, while the four quarternians—sixteen—soldiers were powerless to act," one old man laughed outright, a joyous, grateful laugh, others made their peculiar grunting noise which no combination of sounds will give exactly, while others shook hands and cried "Glory to God." During the singing some women had the "power” so that they passed round, embraced and shook hands.
Some joined the church, and the negro preacher told them he "hoped that wouldn't be the last of it, and that they'd be faithful and come to church;" but that some joined whom he "never could get a chance to set eyes on again, so that when they died he never could tell WHICH PLACE THEY'D GONE TO!"
I have forgotten to note in its proper place, that upon entering the church Miss O. and myself took seats in the only unoccupied pew in the body of the church. But Rev. Mr. S. beckoned us forward to a side seat by the pulpit. We took our seats there, but soon a neat, elderly negress came forward and said with a coaxing smile and voice, "Young ladies go up in de altar an' set-you doesn't want to set down here wid dese yere colored folks." We preferred remaining, and she urged the matter in vain. Soon an elderly mulatto man, probably a prominent member in the church, whose portly form was assisted in its waddles by a gold-headed cane, came forward and made the same request. But not being accustomed to the highest seat in the synagogue on account of our possessing a lighter color, we declined doing so until all the seats were filled and some must stand, when we did go; but upon others coming in they also were induced to take a seat in the altar.
During the sermon Mr. S. related an interesting personal experience. He said that a year ago last July he was in front of Vicksburg, in that dreadful fever region-the Yazoo bluffs. He felt the fever coming upon him-he knew something of its workings-he was two thousand miles from anybody he knew. He said he "had been talking to the boys, to the sick ones in the hospital, telling them that it didn't matter where they died if they only had Jesus with them, and he found that on his back, and on his blanket, had come the time to take some of his own medicine." He said he "tried to do so, but found it rather hard to take. He tried to think that it was just as well to be sick there and to die and be buried on the Yazoo bluffs, and never see his family again; but somehow he couldn't get in that frame of mind, but kept thinking he would much rather be at home. One morning, after he had burned and tossed with fever all night, Aunt Nancy came and drew back the folds of the tent and said: "Massa, how are you this morning-have you found the bright side?'
"Well no, Aunt Nancy, I haven't found any bright side.” "Well, Massa, I'se sorry you can't, for Aunt Nancy never get in such trouble but she can find the bright side.”
"Well, Nancy,” I said, “I guess you've never had any very great trouble—guess you don't know what it is.”
"Well,” said she with a sigh, “may be I don't know what trouble is, but my old man was sold away from me down in old Virginny and I never see him any more, and then my son, the staff of my old age, was sold way down in de rice fields, an' I never see him any more. No-maybe I don't know what trouble is, but after that my last little boy an' girl was sold away from me, an' I never see them any more-an' now I'm getting so old I'll never go back to ole Virginny any more!”
"Well, Aunt Nancy, that is trouble; but tell me how you managed to find the bright side.'
"Well, Massa,” she said, “when I see the storm coming, and the clouds are thick and get black and blacker, then I just go 'round the other side of the cloud where Jesus is!'
"Then I turned over in my bed, with my face to the back of the tent, and said:
"Come now fever, death and burial upon the Yazoo bluffs, if God wills, I am ready!"
SOURCE: Elvira J. Powers, Hospital Pencillings: Being a Diary While in Jefferson General Hospital, Jeffersonville, Ind., and Others at Nashville, Tennessee, as Matron and Visitor, pp. 66-9
