Caleb Copeland Character Analysis

“Mr. Copeland!” Celia exclaimed, her horror making her suddenly formal. “Thee knows we are against slavery.”

Caleb sighed. “Yes, and yet when I saw him standing there and I knew we needed someone to help in the house, and I knew he would have a Christian home with kindly treatment and an opportunity to cultivate his mind, I could not help buying him. But I bought him outright, wife. I did not bid on him.”

Celia smiled. “He looks a fine strong boy and you will give him his freedom.”

“Yes, in time,” Caleb agreed, a trifle reluctantly. “Though in his untamed state it would not be well to give it him too soon.”

“You think he would not know how to use it?”

“He is part animal now. What would he do but run wild?”

Amos knew many a slave who had been freed, given his article of manumission by a grateful master in return for years of faithful service, and given the tools of a trade so he might set himself up and be on the way to a self-respecting life. But Amos had deep within him the inheritance of the At-mun-shi, of looking up to someone older and wiser as a protector. The white man, in the person of Caleb Copeland, had become such a protector to Amos. Amos looked to him with reverence and loyalty. He did not want his life to be apart from Caleb’s in any way. As the working member of the Copeland family, Amos had his own dignity. Apart, he would endure the separateness he knew many of his African friends endured because of their lack of status in the white man’s world.

Celia had not wanted it to be so. She and Roxanna had wept at the thought of parting with their possessions and their faithful friend. But there were debts to be paid and Amos had comforted them with his assurance of a right outcome for them all. He had not dwelt for half his lifetime in a Christian household without absorbing trust and confidence.

He took the candle from Mrs. Richardson’s outstretched hand and the plate of food she had ready for him, then he went across the grass to the hut that was Mr. Richardson’s workshop and would be Amos’ home all the years of his servitude. From the house, Ichabod Richardson and his wife heard the slave singing to himself long after he had blown out his candle to save the precious tallow.

Mrs. Richardson tilted her head to listen. “If you had a slave for no other reason than their singing, I often think it would be worth it,” she said. “And yet, so long as they’re not free their songs are like those of birds in a cage.”

“He’ll have his freedom in time, but not until he’s paid me well for the price I paid for him.”

Amos had no other thought than to pay the full price. He would not bargain over human flesh nor was it for him to question Mr. Bowers’ decision. When the day came that he could call for Lydia in the cart, he presented himself first to Mr. Bowers. In the presence of witnesses,—one who was a friend of Josiah Bowers, and one of the household servants who was Amos Fortune’s friend, the money was carefully counted out. Mr. Bowers set it aside, then he handed to Amos the necessary confirmation of the transaction. It was another bit of paper that Amos would treasure all the days of his life.

“Mr. Copeland!” Celia exclaimed, her horror making her suddenly formal. “Thee knows we are against slavery.”

Caleb sighed. “Yes, and yet when I saw him standing there and I knew we needed someone to help in the house, and I knew he would have a Christian home with kindly treatment and an opportunity to cultivate his mind, I could not help buying him. But I bought him outright, wife. I did not bid on him.”

Celia smiled. “He looks a fine strong boy and you will give him his freedom.”

“Yes, in time,” Caleb agreed, a trifle reluctantly. “Though in his untamed state it would not be well to give it him too soon.”

“You think he would not know how to use it?”

“He is part animal now. What would he do but run wild?”

Amos knew many a slave who had been freed, given his article of manumission by a grateful master in return for years of faithful service, and given the tools of a trade so he might set himself up and be on the way to a self-respecting life. But Amos had deep within him the inheritance of the At-mun-shi, of looking up to someone older and wiser as a protector. The white man, in the person of Caleb Copeland, had become such a protector to Amos. Amos looked to him with reverence and loyalty. He did not want his life to be apart from Caleb’s in any way. As the working member of the Copeland family, Amos had his own dignity. Apart, he would endure the separateness he knew many of his African friends endured because of their lack of status in the white man’s world.

Celia had not wanted it to be so. She and Roxanna had wept at the thought of parting with their possessions and their faithful friend. But there were debts to be paid and Amos had comforted them with his assurance of a right outcome for them all. He had not dwelt for half his lifetime in a Christian household without absorbing trust and confidence.

He took the candle from Mrs. Richardson’s outstretched hand and the plate of food she had ready for him, then he went across the grass to the hut that was Mr. Richardson’s workshop and would be Amos’ home all the years of his servitude. From the house, Ichabod Richardson and his wife heard the slave singing to himself long after he had blown out his candle to save the precious tallow.

Mrs. Richardson tilted her head to listen. “If you had a slave for no other reason than their singing, I often think it would be worth it,” she said. “And yet, so long as they’re not free their songs are like those of birds in a cage.”

“He’ll have his freedom in time, but not until he’s paid me well for the price I paid for him.”

Amos had no other thought than to pay the full price. He would not bargain over human flesh nor was it for him to question Mr. Bowers’ decision. When the day came that he could call for Lydia in the cart, he presented himself first to Mr. Bowers. In the presence of witnesses,—one who was a friend of Josiah Bowers, and one of the household servants who was Amos Fortune’s friend, the money was carefully counted out. Mr. Bowers set it aside, then he handed to Amos the necessary confirmation of the transaction. It was another bit of paper that Amos would treasure all the days of his life.