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'."