Before, however, I conclude, I wish to add, that gratitude Incites me to another theme Beside coagulated cream. ’Tis not about the _village_ Ham, Nor yet the _place_ call’d Petersham-- Nor more renowned Birmingham: Nor is it _fried_ or _Friar Bacon_, The Muse commands me verse to make on. Nor _pig_mies, (as the poet feigns,) A people once devour’d by cranes, Of these I speak not--my intention Is something nearer home to mention; Therefore, at once, for pig’s hind leg Accept my warmest thanks, I beg. The meat was of the finest sort, And worthy of a dish at court.
Lastly, I gladly would express The grateful feelings I possess For such a boon--th’ attempt is vain, And hence in wisdom I refrain From saying more than what you see-- Farewell! sincerely yours,
_Phillis Schoonmaker_ v. _Cuff Hogeboon_.
This was an action for a breach of the marriage promise, tried before ’squire De Witt, justice of the peace and quorum. The parties, as their names indicate, were black, or, as philanthropists would say, _coloured folk_. Counsellor Van Shaick appealed on behalf of the lady. He recapitulated the many verdicts which had been given of late in favour of injured innocence, much to the honour and gallantry of an American jury. It was time to put an end to these faithless professions, to these cold-hearted delusions; it was time to put a curb upon the false tongues and false hearts of pretended lovers, who, with honied accents, only woo’d to ruin, and only professed to deceive. The worthy counsellor trusted that no injurious impressions would be made on the minds of the jury by the colour of his client--
“’Tis not a set of features, This _tincture of the skin_, that we admire.”
She was black, it was true; so was the honoured wife of Moses, the most illustrious and inspired of prophets. Othello, the celebrated Moor of Venice, and the victorious general of her armies, was black, yet the lovely Desdemona saw “Othello’s visage in his mind.” In modern times, we might quote his sable majesty of Hayti, or, since that country had become a republic, the gallant Boyer.--He could also refer to Rhio Rhio, king of the Sandwich Islands, his copper-coloured queen, and madame Poki, so hospitably received, and fed to death by their colleague the king of England--nay, the counsellor was well advised that the brave general Sucre, the hero of Ayacucho, was a dark mulatto. What, then, is colour in estimating the griefs of a forsaken and ill-treated female? She was poor, it was true, and in a humble sphere of life; but love levels all distinctions; the blind god was no judge, and no respecter of colours; his darts penetrated deep, not skin deep; his client, though black, was flesh and blood, and possessed affections, passions, resentments, and sensibilities; and in this case she confidently threw herself upon the generosity of a jury of freemen--of men of the north, as the friends of the northern president would say, of men who did not live in Missouri, and on sugar plantations; and from such his client expected just and liberal damages.