Oh the Irony

While I thoroughly enjoyed Uncle Tom’s Cabin, I must admit that several situations in the novel were, well, a little too ironic for practicality. Yes, the story captivates the audience, but there were a few occasions when, with a squint in my eye and a twist in my neck I cringed as I “accepted” a situation that just seemed out of place.

For example, Eliza flees unprepared into the night to protect Harry from being taken by Haley. No one knew that Eliza was leaving. She runs North to Canada only because George had mentioned doing the same thing. Her plan is impulsive—she has only one goal in mind: cross the Ohio River. What will she do next?

George carries out his plan and escapes to the North dressed as a Spaniard the day after he hears of Eliza’s flight. George acts with boldness and caution as he travels through Kentucky. He has taken every necessary precaution—he has colored his skin and mutilated the scar on his hand—to ensure that his escape would be successful.

The couple has separated because of necessity: one flees North unprepared, the other slips North with a cautious, meticulous plan. Their destination is the same, Canada, but it is unlike that they should ever meet again.

But wait! Under the most unlikely of circumstances, the little family meets while under the care of the Halliday family in Indiana. Ironic? Well, let’s just say my neck turned half an inch and my eye started twitching a little.

Stowe doesn’t stop there. My greatest criticism lies in the blatantly forced irony at the close of the novel. Not only does Stowe push reality with the meeting of George and Eliza, but she ties up nearly every other loose end concerning their stories! On his way back to Kentucky after finding Uncle Tom dead, Master George Shelby meets up with Cassie, the sexually abused slave on Legree’s farm. Cassie reveals that she is a runaway slave and the young Shelby assists her and Emmeline in their flight to freedom. While on the Mississippi, Shelby and Cassie meet Madame de Thoux, a former slave who married her master and is now a free woman. In less than a page Stowe reveals that Thoux is George Harris’ long lost sister and that Cassie is Eliza Harris’ mother! If your eyes and neck aren’t twitching by this point you must be blind . . . or stupid.

Oh the irony! Truly, according to Stowe, this is a small world. But she doesn’t stop there—Thoux and Cassie meet up with George and Eliza in Canada . . . then they all move to Liberia, Africa and may or may not have run into Topsy, who is now a missionary.

What audacity! After going through such lengths to create a realistic story of slavery in 1850, Stowe’s ending seems to be a conundrum. Please, Mrs. Stowe, respect your readers. The book would have done well to skip “the rest of the story” and end with the Harris’ in Canada, Uncle Tom memorialized, and Cassie free from Legree.

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