Remember the Morning by Thomas Fleming

business. They could not afford to buy another slave.
    Judge Van Staats swore if Caesar was arrested again, he would hang, even if John Vraack and his wife starved and half of New York went without bread. Caesar piously vowed to stop gambling and attend to his work. He said he would go to church every Sunday and ask God for help. Grumbling and snarling, Judge Van Staats dismissed the charges.
    It was Clara’s turn. The sheriff had said very little against Caesar. He had stated the facts of his case in a bored monotone. With Clara he became furiously indignant. He described her threats and called her a savage who needed to be taught that Indian ways were not white ways and New Yorkers would not tolerate threats of murder and mayhem.
    â€œI agree with every word you say!” the judge rumbled. “Summon the witnesses.”
    Gertrude Van Vorst and Fat Alice testified to Clara’s threatening them with the knife. She was sure she was on her way to the whipping post when the doors at the back of the courtroom swung open and Malcolm Stapleton and his friend Robert Foster Nicolls hurried up the aisle. With them was the hunchback, Adam Duycinck, and a third man, followed by her Seneca sister, Catalyntie Van Vorst.
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    I had spent the intervening hours quarreling violently with my aunt and uncle and beseeching Malcolm Stapleton and Guert Cuyler to save Clara from the whipping post. Guert could not prevail upon his father to take the case. Nor could Malcolm persuade his father. No established lawyer wanted to defend an African who had threatened a white woman with a knife. Guert decided to plead it himself, even though he was far from a thorough lawyer. 11 When Robert Nicolls heard about my distress, he volunteered to join us as a friendly witness.
    â€œYour Honor,” said Guert, “I would like to represent the defendant in this matter.”
    â€œOn what grounds? She’s not your property,” Judge Van Staats said.
    â€œShe’s the property in fact if not in law of Miss Van Vorst here, the
granddaughter of your late lamented good friend, Cornelius Van Vorst,” Guert said. “He was also among my grandfather’s dearest friends. Miss Van Vorst is not yet old enough to inherit her estate. But I think she has a right, in the law, to protest the abuse of a slave that belongs to her, just as she might protest if her uncle, the executor of the estate, began damaging or otherwise maltreating a house which was left to her.”
    â€œHow dare you, sir?” Gertrude Van Vorst cried. “How dare you accuse my husband of such a thing?”
    â€œFor the moment we’re only accusing you of maltreating this girl, madam,” Guert said.
    â€œWhat about the right of the community to protect itself against the creature’s violence? Am I supposed to let her return to the house she’s threatened with murder?” Judge Van Staats said.
    â€œIf it please the court,” Guert said. “I would suggest an order from Your Honor to place the wench in the custody of my friend, Malcolm Stapleton here, and his father. They’ll negotiate a fair price with the Van Vorsts for the loss of her services.”
    At this point, Robert Nicolls stepped forward and gave an eloquent defense of Clara’s character. “I saw this young woman when she was exchanged at the great peace council last year,” he said. “She did not display a hint of violence or resentment in her demeanor.”
    â€œI’m inclined to order her sold to the West Indies at a fair market value and the money to be placed in Miss Van Vorst’s estate!” Judge Van Staats roared.
    â€œYour late lamented good friend, Cornelius Van Vorst, when he drew his will, urged that this young woman be treated with kindness and forbearance, out of a debt of gratitude he owed her father for saving his life in the northern woods,” Guert Cuyler said.
    The repetition of Cornelius Van Vorst’s name had