Confining these reminiscences strictly to plantation life, no mention
has been made of the families we knew and visited in some of our
cities, whose kindness to their slaves was unmistakable, and who,
owning only a small number, could better afford to indulge them.
At one of these houses this indulgence was such that the white family
were very much under the control of their servants.
The owner of this house, Charles Mosby, an eminent lawyer, was a man
of taste and learning, whose legal ability attracted many admirers,
and whose refinement, culture, and generous nature won enthusiastic
friends.
Although considered the owner of his house, it was a mistake, if
ownership means the right to govern one's own property; for beyond his
law-papers, library, and the privilege of paying all the bills, this
gentleman had no "rights" there whatever, his house, kitchen, and
premises being under the entire command of "Aunt Fanny," the cook, a
huge mulatto woman, whose word was law, and whose voice thundered
abuse if any dared to disobey her.
The master, mistress, family, and visitors all stood in awe of Aunt
Fanny, and yet could not do without her, for she made unapproachable
light-bread and conducted the affairs of the place with distinguished
ability.
Her own house was in the yard, and had been built especially for her
convenience. Her furniture was polished mahogany, and she kept most
delicious preserves, pickles, and sweetmeats of her own manufacture,
with which to regale her friends and favorites. As we came under that
head, we were often treated when we went in to see her after her day's
work was over, or on Sundays.
Although she "raved and stormed" considerably--which she told us she
was "obliged to do, honey, to keep things straight"--she had the
tenderest regard for her master and mistress, and often said: "If it
warn't for _me_, they'd have nuthin' in the world, and things here
would go to destruction."
So Aunt Fanny "kept up this family," as she said, for many years, and
many amusing incidents might be related of her.
On one occasion her master, after a long and exciting political
contest, was elected to the legislature. Before all the precincts had
been heard from, believing himself defeated, he retired to rest, and,
being naturally feeble, was quite worn out. But at midnight a great
cry arose at his gate, where a multitude assembled, screaming and
hurrahing. At first he was uncertain whether they were friends to
congratulate him on his victory or the opposite party to hang him, as
they had threatened, for voting an appropriation to the Danville
Railroad. It soon appeared they had come to congratulate him, when
great excitement prevailed, loud cheers, and cries for a speech. The
doors were opened and the crowd rushed in. The hero soon appeared and
delivered one of his graceful and satisfactory speeches.
Still the crowd remained cheering and storming about the house, until
Aunt Fanny, who had made her appearance in full dress, considering
the excitement had been kept up long enough, and that the master's
health was too delicate for any further demonstration, determined to
disperse them. Rising to her full height, waving her hand, and
speaking majestically, she said: "Gentlemen, Mars' Charles is a feeble
pusson, an' it's time for him to take his res'. He's been kep' 'wake
long enough now, an' it's time for me to close up dese doors!"
With this the crowd dispersed, and Aunt Fanny remained mistress of the
situation, declaring that if she "hadn't come forward an' 'spersed dat
crowd, Mars' Charles would have been a dead man befo' mornin'."
[Illustration: "AUNT FANNY 'SPERSED DAT CROWD'."--_Page 161._]
Aunt Fanny kept herself liberally supplied with pocket-money, one of
her chief sources of revenue being soap, which she made in large
quantities and sold at high prices; especially what she called her
"butter soap," which was in great demand, and which was made from all
the butter which she did not consider fresh enough for the delicate
appetites of her mistress and master. She appropriated one of the
largest basement rooms, had it shelved, and filled it with soap. In
order to carry on business so extensively, huge logs were kept blazing
on the kitchen hearth under the soap-pot day and night. During the
war, wood becoming scarce and expensive, "Mars' Charles" found that it
drained his purse to keep the kitchen fire supplied.
Thinking the matter over one day in his library, and concluding it
would greatly lessen his expenses if Aunt Fanny could be prevailed
upon to discontinue her soap trade, he sent for her, and said very
mildly:
"Fanny, I have a proposition to make you."
"What is it, Mars' Charles?"
"Well, Fanny, as my expenses are very heavy now, if you will give up
your soap-boiling for this year, I will agree to pay you fifty
dollars."
With arms akimbo, and looking at him with astonishment but with
firmness in her eye, she replied: "Couldn't possibly do it, Mars'
Charles; because _soap_, sir, _soap's my main-tain-ance_!"
With this she strode majestically out of the room. "Mars' Charles"
said no more, but continued paying fabulous sums for wood, while Aunt
Fanny continued boiling her soap.
This woman not only ordered but kept all the family supplies, her
mistress having no disposition to keep the keys or in any way
interfere with her.
But at last her giant strength gave way, and she sickened and died.
Having no children, she left her property to one of her
fellow-servants.
Several days before her death we were sitting with her mistress and
master in a room overlooking her house. Her room was crowded with
negroes who had come to perform their religious rites around the
deathbed. Joining hands, they performed a savage dance, shouting
wildly around her bed. This was horrible to hear and see, especially
as in this family every effort had been made to instruct their negro
dependents in the truths of religion; and one member of the family,
who spent the greater part of her life in prayer, had for years prayed
for Aunt Fanny and tried to instruct her in the true faith. But
although an intelligent woman, she seemed to cling to the
superstitions of her race.
After the savage dance and rites were over, and while we sat talking
about it, a gentleman--the friend and minister of the family--came in.
We described to him what we had just witnessed, and he deplored it
bitterly with us, saying he had read and prayed with Aunt Fanny and
tried to make her see the truth in Jesus. He then marked some passages
in the Bible, and asked me to go and read them to her. I went, and
said to her: "Aunt Fanny, here are some verses Mr. Mitchell has marked
for me to read to you, and he hopes you will pray to the Saviour as he
taught you." Then said I: "We are afraid the noise and dancing have
made you worse."
Speaking feebly, she replied: "Honey, dat kind o' 'ligion suit us
black folks better 'en yo' kind. What suit Mars' Charles' mind karn't
suit mine."
And thus died the most intelligent of her race--one who had been
surrounded by pious persons who had been praying for her and
endeavoring to instruct her. She had also enjoyed through life not
only the comforts but many of the luxuries of earth, and when she died
her mistress and master lost a sincere friend.