Impractical Religion

Scripture is the backbone of Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Page after page of the novel contains some reference to Scripture—I don’t think two pages go by without the Bible being referenced in some way. Obviously, Stowe sought to defend her abolitionist views with the same weapon of the slave owners: the Bible. As I read Uncle Tom’s Cabin, I was encouraged spiritually—Stowe’s use of Scripture challenged me to use and demonstrate my faith in every area of my life.

But, I must agree with the critics that Stowe’s use of Scripture may have created an impractical character.

Jane P. Tompkins, a 1970s feminist critic of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, outlines Stowe’s thesis as one focused on “the saving power of Christian love.” Stowe demonstrates and personifies this thesis through Uncle Tom and Evangeline St. Clare. Both characters humbly give their lives in service to others. Uncle Tom sacrifices himself for the salvation of Shelby’ other slaves and eventually gives his life for the freedom of Cassie and Emmeline. Eva, the little evangelist, takes the sin and trials of others to heart. She dies calling her loved ones to Christ, just as her name suggests. I love these pictures of faithful Christian witness.

At this point, the title to my blog post may confuse you. I am not suggesting that Stowe should not have used personification of Biblical characters in her novel. Quite the opposite, in fact. But I must grudgingly admit that some of the critics were right when they concluded that Uncle Tom was too religious to be real.

So, what got me to this point—that Uncle Tom is impractically religious? In the article that appeared in London’s The Times on 3 September 1852, the journalist notes that not even pre-fall Adam could life up to the perfection Stowe gives Uncle Tom. At first, I wanted to disagree. I wanted to shout, “BLASPHEMY!” so all could hear my distain for such a comment. But then, I started thinking about Uncle Tom—a man who was saved in late life at a camp meeting, a man who served as a pastor, a man who consistently witnessed to those above him, a man who died bringing others to Christ—all while under the bonds of slavery. Would I be able to show such faith under the same circumstances? As I read, I began to realize that Stowe may have, indeed, created an impractical religious character.

As George Holmes cynically noted in his criticism, “Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report they are found in Uncle Tom.”

(477)

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.

(518)

Critiquing the Critics

So, for a class project I got the opportunity to do some additional research on Uncle Tom’s Cabin—mostly critiques. Let me tell you, the critics from 1850 (all male) were brutal!

I read five criticisms included in Norton’s Anthology of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, 2^nd Edition, edited by Elizabeth Ammons. If you have read Uncle Tom’s Cabin and have access to the Norton Critical Edition, I would encourage you to look through the criticisms by George Sand, William Allen, George Holmes, “anonymous” (London’s The Times), Charles Dudley Warner, and Jane P. Tompkins. Their critiques give a balanced view of Stowe’s work “then and now.”

Ironically (but not at all surprising), the early critics’ greatest argument against Uncle Tom’s Cabin was the gender of the author. All admitted, though somewhat grudgingly, that Stowe’s story was compelling and emotional, but argued that she had stepped outside her bounds by writing on such a political topic. Tompkins, whose criticism was released after the feminist movement of the 1960s, was the only critic to give Stowe any credence as an author. And rightly so. When you consider the mentality of the world in 1850 (a male-dominated society), it is understandable that the men wished Stowe would have stayed at home. But she told the story the world needed to hear.

I must, however, laugh at the obstinate, bigoted criticism of George Holmes. Holmes published his critique in The Southern Literary Messenger  in October of 1852, shortly after Uncle Tom’s Cabin was published. Holmes is probably the most belligerent of the critics concerning Stowe’s gender. In relation to talent as a writer, Holmes says, “Possessed of a happy faculty of description, asn easy and natural style, and uncommon command of pathos and considerable dramatic skill, she might, in the legitimate exercise of such talents, have done much to enrich the literature of America, and to gladden and elevate her fellow beings” (505). Sound nice, right? A polite compliment of a Southern gentleman . . . but wait, there’s more. “But she has chosen to employ her pen for purposes of a less worthy nature. . . . to sow, in this blooming garden of freedom, the seeds of strife and violence and all direful contentions.” Now, I could be wrong, but I don’t think the Civil War is the fault of Harriet Beecher Stowe—even if President Lincoln did say, “So this is the little lady who started this great war.” Again, at this point Holmes probably hasn’t gone any further than other contemporary critics. Even when he remarks that Stowe (and other women of New England) should not be treated equally and should, as a female, keep her mouth shut concerning politics. He even has the audacity to quote I Timothy 2 (“Let the woman learn in silence with all subjection. But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence.”), which I’m quite sure he has taken out of context.

Holmes has other criticisms concerning Uncle Tom’s Cabin—the seeming disunity of the two stories, the fact that slaves are viewed as good and slave owners as evil, the unrealistic piety of Uncle Tom, and Stowe’s supposed misrepresentation of Southern slave laws, just to name a few. But the kicker, the remark that sent me reeling in a mix of laugher and scorn was his closing sentence: a single suggestion that the author open her Bible to Exodus 20 and take to hear the words, “Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.” Really sir? You have the audacity to misquote Scripture, not just once, but twice and defend a practice so inhumane . . . well, at least we know how that turned out. It appears, sir, that Mrs. Stowe was right after all—American society—specifically the cruelty of slavery—had to change. And it did.

(646)

Modern Day Joseph

Stowe’s extensive use of Scripture throughout Uncle Tom’s Cabin is amazing. Truly, one must have a knowledge of the Bible in order to fully understand many of the author’s driving thoughts. We’ve enjoyed several laughs as the editors of the Norton Anthology consistently take Scripture references out of context or reference the wrong passage all together.

Despite Norton’s rather ineffective insight on Biblical references, I have learned much from the inclusion of Scripture in Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Multiple times throughout the novel Stowe references Uncle Tom as a modern day Joseph.

Joseph, sold as a slave by his jealous brothers, found himself in the home of Potiphar, one of the most influential men in Egypt. Though a slave, Joseph won Potiphar’s trust and eventually became the overseer of all of Potiphar’s property. Genesis 39:2-4 says, “And the LORD was with Joseph, and he was a prosperous man; and he was in the house of his master the Egyptian. And his master waw that the LORD was with him, and that the LORD made all that he did to prosper in his hand. And Joseph found grace in his sight, and he served him: and he [Potiphar] made him [Joseph] overseer over his house, and all that he [Potiphar] had he put into his [Joseph’s] hand.”

As Stowe introduces Uncle Tom’s character through a discussion between Haley, Shelby says, “Tom is an uncommon fellow; he is certainly worth that sum anywhere,—steady, honest, capable, manages my whole farm like a clock” (2). Like Potiphar trusted Joseph with all he had, Shelby blindly trusted Tom to manage everything.

After Tom is sold to Haley and then to St. Clare, Stowe reinforces Tom’s connection with Joseph. In the first sentence of Chapter XVIII Stowe remarks that, “Our friend Tom, in his own simple musings, often compared his more fortunate lot [living with the St. Clares], in the bondage into which he was cast, with that of Joseph in Egypt; and, in fact, as time went on, and he developed more and more under the eye of his master, the strength of the parallel increased” (185). The careless St. Clare recognizes Tom’s management skills and places the care of the household finances in Tom’s hands. What remarkable trust! Tom could have done anything—he “had every facility and temptation to dishonesty; and nothing but an impregnable simplicity of nature, strengthened by Christian faith, could have kept him from it” (186).

Just as Joseph fled from the temptation of Potiphar’s wife, Tom fled from the temptation of misusing the trust given him by God. You can almost hear him incredulously quote Joseph to skeptics: “how then can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?” (Genesis 39:9).

(453)

The Flight of a Slave

Driven to debt by selfish indulgence, Shelby sells Uncle Tom and little Harry Harris to the conniving Haley to cover his debts. The plan has gone of smoothly—he will meet with his wife in the evening to inform her of the sale, too late for her to correct the situation. Everything is going as well as could be expected . . . or is it?

Eliza Harris, Harry’s mother, overheard the transaction between her Master and the slave trader. Were she asked to do anything else for her Master, she would—but part with her son? It just cannot be done. Quickly and quietly Eliza packs a bag for herself and her young son. At midnight she slips from the Shelby house and heads for the rows of slave cabins. She must find Uncle Tom.

Tom and Chloe hear a soft rap on their door just as they are heading to bed—the evening’s worship and praise service went well into the night and the last slaves just left for their own cabins. Who then, could be at the door? As the door opens, Tom and Chloe see Eliza, pale and nervous, anxiously standing before them clutching her young son. 

No power of persuasion will convince Uncle Tom to flee North with Eliza and Harry—not the cries of his wife, not the thought of the harsh slavery in the South—Tom knows his place, and it is serving his Master, whomever that may be.

But he won’t discourage another slave from running.

With a blessing from Uncle Tom and Aunt Chloe, Eliza runs into the darkness, desperately seeking to save her son from the New Orleans slave auctions. Eliza hurries along motivated by pure adrenaline until she reaches the Ohio River. Stranded on the Kentucky side until the ice breaks up, Eliza lays Harry down and rests uneasily as the morning breaks.

Eliza runs for freedom and for love. By leaving the Shelby’s, she risks separating herself from the only world she has ever known—knowing that she will never see it again. Will she and Harry make it to Canada? Will she find her husband along the way? Or is the flight of this slave just another sad story for the martyrdom?

(375)

The Man Behind St. Clare

St. Clare seems to be a conundrum. Where does he really stand? Is he an advocate for slavery or abolition? Before I get ahead of myself, I suppose I should introduce St. Clare to you.

St. Clare is the father of the beautiful angel, Evangeline. He is a young aristocrat from New Orleans. Stowe introduces us to St. Clare on the riverboat that takes Uncle Tom farther from home and into the depths of slavery. Evangeline (affectionately called Eva by all who know her) persuades her father to buy Uncle Tom because she wants to “make him happy.” Pressured by his devotion to Eva and his debt to Uncle Tom for saving Eva’s life, St. Clare buys Uncle Tom from Haley for $1300. Eva’s wish is granted and Uncle Tom avoids further unhappiness of being sold at a New Orleans slave auction.

But who is this man? This young aristocrat who dotes upon his daughter to the point of buying a slave without thinking of the cost? Truly Augustine St. Clare represents a paradox of a Southern slave-owner.

St. Clare’s history is a sad one. As a sickly youth he left his father’s humid plantation in Louisiana to the cool, healing air of Vermont. He was a passionate young man who preferred beauty and art to business. While in the North, St. Clare fell in love and became engaged to a  young, beautiful Northern girl. He returned to Louisiana to prepare for his marriage and soon received word that his fiancée had married another. Pained and “stung to madness, he vainly hoped, as many another has done, to fling the whole thing from his heart by one desperate effort” (139). He threw himself into societal life and was soon married to an heiress of the South. Life seemed to be moving on when, during his honeymoon, St. Clare received word that his true love was still unmarried—her guardians had deceived the couple to prevent the marriage. With such great pain he responded to the letter: “I have received yours,—but too late. I believed all I heard. I was desperate. I am married, and all is over. Only forget,--it is all that remains for either of us” (140).

Oh, St. Clare! How I pity you! Yet how faithful your love seems to be—you care for the selfish Marie though your heart lies in the North. Is that why you cling to little Evangeline?

(406)

Feminine Perfection?

Please understand the irony of the post title. While I believe that women have the right to vote and hold many of the same jobs as men, I am not a feminist. Stowe, on the other hand, believed the feminine race to be more morally pure than their male counterparts—and her book shows it.

Just a small glimpse of Uncle Tom’s Cabin will confirm Stowe’s bias. Other than the religious, loveable Uncle Tom, the male characters of the book are rather soiled whereas the females are painted as moral, righteous philosophers.

Let’s compare Stowe’s description of some couples to prove my point, shall we?

Mr. & Mrs. Shelby
Mr. and Mrs. Shelby are the original owners of Uncle Tom, Eliza, and little Harry. The first chapters introduce ‘the House’ where the Shelby’s live in northern Kentucky. Mr. Shelby is described as having “the appearance of a gentleman,” yet he has fallen into debt with a rather shady character. Though he vehemently clings to his “humanity”, Mr. Shelby acts otherwise by selling his favorite slaves to cover the debt. The sale takes place without Mrs. Shelby’s knowledge, to ensure the sale goes through. Shelby claims no religion, believing his wife is religious enough for them both. Mrs. Shelby, as previously mentioned, is a religious woman with a kind, compassionate heart. She has raised her slaves like children, encouraging them to care for and love their children. Though married to a slave owner, Stowe reveals to us that Mrs. Shelby is quite the abolitionist. Under her direction slaves delay Haley in following Eliza, whose flight she praises.

Males: 0, Females 1

Uncle Tom & Aunt Chloe
Uncle Tom’s trustworthiness, compassion, humility, and religion set him apart from most of the other male characters of the book. He willingly, humbly sacrifices himself to protect his Master’s name and the other slaves. He is viewed as the religious leader, not only by the other slaves, but by the Shelby’s as well. Though Stowe does highlight some character flaws in Aunt Chloe—wanting the worst of Haley and doubting the goodness of God—the author’s criticisms toward the devoted servant is less strict than those toward her male characters. Overall, Aunt Chloe is seen as a good, moral character who exhibits some defiance and rebellion.

Males: 1, Females: --well, we’ll give them a 1.5

George & Eliza Harris
Here’s a stark contrast in one couple—in more ways than one. George proclaims equal rights and denounces his Master’s country and religion. The hardships of his life have, in turn, made the young man hard, though Stowe does allow the readers to peek at George’s soft heart. Eliza willingly accepts her position as a slave in the Shelby home and, were it not for the sale of her son, would be content to live as part of the family forever. She is a religious lady, encouraging her husband to seek the Lord and trust his moving. Her moral reasoning for running is continually justified by Stowe through the characters that aid Eliza in her escape. Again, the male of the relationship is seen as morally weak and dependent on his wife for religious leadership.

Men: 1, Women: 2.5

Senator & Mrs. Bird
Ah, the Senator—nothing more can be said of this chapter than irony. Once again, the wife shows moral reasoning and dominance over her husband as Mrs. Bird disputes her husband’s political support of the Fugitive Slave Law. Senator Bird fumbles and blushes over his words, leaving his wife the winner.

Men: 1, Women: 3.5

Augustine & Marie St. Clare
Now, those of you who have read the book may wonder what I’m going to do with Augustine and Marie. I believe Stowe’s intention was to (finally) introduce a negative feminine character—truly Marie St. Clare’s selfish piety stains her outward beauty. While Augustine is not a completely positive character (he readily admits that he will not take any side on the slave question), he does front some rather important, pointed questions to his wife and cousin concerning the humanity of slavery.

Men: 2, Women: 3.5

So, the score seems pretty even so far, but we should also add to the females the sweet angel, Evangeline (Eva) St. Clare, Miss Ophelia (we must admit, though she is quiet, she is not bad), and the two Quaker women. For the men, we can add the Quaker, Mr. Halliday.

That brings the score to: Men: 3, Women: 7.5

I have to admit, it’s not as lop-sided as I initially thought, we’ll have to see how it goes.

(744)

Humanity

What is humanity? I mean, what constitutes humanity? Hard to say, since the American definition has shifted in the past one hundred and fifty years. Harriet Beecher Stowe uses Uncle Tom’s Cabin to present—no incriminate—the American understanding of humanity in the 1850s.

The title of chapter one proclaims Stowe’s thesis for the chapter, “In Which the Reader Is Introduced to a Man of Humanity”. Can you hear the irony as she writes? Is this man, Haley—a slimy, deceptive slave trader—truly a man of humanity? Is his debtor, Shelby—hesitatingly willing to sell his best man—truly a man of humanity? I propose neither is, though I give Shelby more sympathy than Haley. What is just or humane about selling a man—even when regarded as your property?

As the two men barter the sale of Uncle Tom and little Harry, Shelby remarks, “I’m a humane man, and I hate to take the boy [Harry] from his mother, sir.” Yet, my dear gentleman, you are willing to separate a man from his wife and children? Are you truly humane?

Haley’s plain speech makes clear his view of the slaves: “Lor bless ye, yes! These critters an’t like white folks . . .” Is that so, sir? Yet the man goes on boldly saying “It’s always best to do the humane thing, sir; that’s been my experience”—and continues to liken himself to William Wilberforce! The nerve! The irony! He likens himself to the man who devoted his entire life to abolition in England!

I had to grin as Stowe openly mocked both men’s proclamations of humanity. You can hear humor in her voice and truly laugh with her as she says, “Perhaps you laugh too, dear reader; but you know humanity comes out in a variety of strange forms now-a-days, and there is no end to the odd things that humane people will say and do.”

As for the humanity of striping a young child from his mother, Haley operates under the method of “out of sight, out of mind”—sure, that’s humane. After all, “’Tan’t, you know, as if it was white folks, that’s brought up in a way of ‘spectin’ to keep their children and wives, and all that. Niggers, you know, that’s fetched up properly, ha’n’t no kind of ‘spectations of no kind; so all these things comes easier.” I wonder—where’s the humanity is in that?

(403)

*Quotations from Norton’s Second Critical Edition of Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe, chapter 1