African religion and christianity Essay Example for Free

African religion and christianity Essay Although Africa was not a plain or bear continent, Africans had their way of life, structure of government, religion, economic activities, education,systems of marriage and development plans for their societies, nevertheless the British brought their systems which conflicted with Africans established way of life, this was because the British, as many other European powers were economically depressed and Africa appeared to be the only way out.The British wanted to pass the three C’s; Commerce, that is to make money through acquisition of free labour form Africans, raw materials for their industries as industrial revolution back in Britain was rapidly taking place, market for their surplus production; Christianity to save Africans as alluded in the Gospel of Saint Mark 16 versus 5 Go ye to the entire world, baptizing all men in the name of Jesus. †Explorers such as David Livingstone, Vasco Da Gama, Portuguese Diego Cam and Arabs with Muslim faith had missionary zeal. The last C is for Civilization, they wanted to civilize Africans in terms of education, culture and many other aspects I will bring out later in this essay. RELIGION Black`s Law Definition of religion; This is man`s relation to Divinity, reverence, worship, obedience, and submission to mandates and precepts of supernatural or superior beings. In a broad sense, it includes all forms of belief in the existence of superior beings exercising power over human beings by volition, imposing rules of conduct with future rewards and punishments. AFRICAN RELIGION Awolalu defines African religion as â€Å"†¦largely written in the people’s myth and folktales, in their songs and dances, in their liturgies and shrines and in their proverbs and pithy sayings. It is a religion whose historical founder is neither known nor worshipped; it is a religion that has no zeal for the membership drive, yet it offers persistent fascination for Africans, young and old.† The African traditional religion was not homogeneous as the communities had different ethnic background thus the religious practices such rituals varied one community to the other. It is worth noting that it was oral, not scripted or written and was passed from one generation to the other by word of mouth as I earlier alluded in the Awolalu definition of religion. Within their organized societal structures, Africans believed in supernatural beings together with ancestral spirits.The ancestral spirits were believed to link the living societal members to the gods. We all agree that one cannot talk about African religion without African values as they are intertwined and inseparable. African religion was embedded in moral values or codes or standards which were believed to originate from God through the ancestral spirits, these values when followed or observed one would be rewarded with maybe good harvest from their cultivation of land or increased number of a flock of cattle. When these values have violated the culprits were reprimanded, for instance, adultery was highly condemned therefore in case a member engaged in it he or she could be punished by God through the ancestral spirit. This punishment could be through the infliction of sickness to the culprit or barrenness. The concept of values is a vital point as one talks of the African religion. African religion is drawn from the African values. The African religion had some institutions which presided over religious functions, these institutions were believed to communicate directly to ancestral spirits (living dead) who in turn would communicate to the gods and grievances of the living societal members would be heard. In the Kenyan context, these institutions include Orkoyot of the Nandi, Oloibon of the Maasai, Seers, Diviners, and Rainmakers depending on the ethnic communities which they came from. These institutions apart from the veneration of the ancestors, they blessed warrior before going for war, advised the political leaders, offered sacrifice to god and conducted rituals for the culprits who violated moral values in the community. The gods had some specific names for instance, in Kenyan context, we had Enkai for the Maasai, Encore for the Abagusii, Mulungu for Akamba, Asis the Nandi, Ngai for the Agikuyu and Nyasaye for the Luo. There were specific worship places which were regarded as holy, this places included shrines, mountaintops some special trees such as mugumo, hills, and some caves. The diversity of the names given to gods and places of worship, show the lack of uniformity in the African Religion. This concludes that Africans were of different ethnic background and had their own religion, gods, and religion as a community. CHRISTIANITY This is a religion based on the life, teachings, and practices of the person of Jesus Christ. The origin of Christianity is drawn from a character, believed to be the Son of God. It is a religion more about the relationship between one and Jesus rather religious practices. A Christian, as the name suggests is a follower of Christ. The origin of Jesus of extra-ordinary or Supernatural happening as it is believed He was conceived by the power of Holy Spirit and born of a Virgin. This small description ascertains the definition of religion as I had earlier defined it. Christianity is practiced through reading the Bible and attendance of services for the Protestants and Mass for the Catholics. The religion is scripted or written in the Bible which is the reference for all who ascribe to Christianity. It contains all the rules guidelines, commands that Christians should observe their entire life. These guidelines govern human relationship to one another and their relationship to their God.there no diverse Christians as all of them draw their beliefs from Jesus Christ through reading and exercising their beliefs from the Bible.Christianity is a homogeneous religion or rather uniform. There are institutions such Priests, Bishops and Catholic Fathers who lead other Christians in worship. These people undergo theology training for them to undertake their duties. There are specific places of worship where Christians congregate. These places are Churches or Chapels. THE CHRISTIAN MISSIONARIES. They mainly to spread Christianity and Commerce†¦Dr. David Livingstone, I go back to Africa to make an open pass for Christianity and Commerce.† The first encounter is dated from the 15th Century. The Portuguese Christianity introduction to Africans in the East African Coast. This, however, had very little success. By 19th Century Christian missionaries arrived in East Africa they included: 1.The Holy Ghost Fathers 2.The Church Missionary Society 3.The Methodist Fathers 4.The Mill Hill Fathers THE ENCOUNTER I) Source/origin of Religion The Africans believed that their religion was sourced from god, who they believed long before their ancestors’ existence. The British Missionaries conflict with Africans by telling them about the existence of a God who had a son and lived among us many years ago. The religion of British was written (Bible) thus one had to have the ability to read and write in order to understand it, whereas that of African was passed from generation to generation by oral tradition. There is an introduction of a new system of identifying the origin of religion which conflicts with the African system. II) Places of worship The Africans revered in special caves, Mountaintops, hills, Forests, Special trees (mugumo) and shrines. The British tell Africans that they should worship God places called Churches. This encounter shows that there is a bit of clashing as the African places were very clearly defined and preserved by the community members. The British also seized African land to construct churches or chapels, Africans, as a result, became very hostile as they had distinct worship places which occurred naturally. They believed that their land was for cultivation and a gift from their gods. III) The Practices of Religion The Africans practiced their religion by reverence to their ancestors, offering human and animal sacrifices and invoking the ancestral spirits. They offered sacrifices in order to get favors in terms of harvest. The African worship was communal that is, all community members used to convene to pray for rain and ask for the wellness of the community. The British religion had an aspect of confession of one`s sins before worship, repentance, and forgiveness of sin are granted. This aspect of forgiveness of sins lacks in the traditional African religion, one had to be punished for wrongdoing. British missionary religion brings out an aspect of offerings in terms of money and tithe which is ten percent of one`s total earnings. IV) Religious leaders In African religion, worship was led by Diviners, Rainmakers, and Seers who were considered righteous. The work of religious leaders was taught through apprecentiship and was hereditary from specific clans in the community. There were certain clans from whom diviners would descend. They were highly respected in the community. The British Christian religious leaders attend school to be trained mainly on theology. They study formalities of worship and nature of God. Any member of Christian family can become a religious leader although there are some myths which say one has to be ‘called’ by God. The Christian leader has to have the ability to read and write so as to pass the scriptures to his congregation. V) Uniformity of Religion As I handled earlier in this essay, the African traditional religion was diverse from one ethnic community to the other due to the linguistic differences, migration patterns and origin. Christianity is introduced as a homogeneous religion as the author of it is Jesus Christ, a common ancestry and reference point for all Christians. The diversity of worship is dismantled by the British introduction of this even religion. As I have pointed above there are distinct differences between Traditional African Religion and the British Christianity and how both systems fought to outdo the other. The African religion had deep roots in the society as it was passed orally through stories, myths, riddles and proverbs which were very appealing to the audience. These deep roots were however uprooted as change is inevitable in every circumstance. As an old adage, ‘one man’s meat is another man’s poison.’ The British struck the Africans struck back but were easily overpowered, and gave in. The British were gradually using religion as a tool to pass several other systems to the Africans. Education which traditionally was based on oral tradition was easily eliminated as most Africans wanted to quench their thirst for knowledge, for those who resisted religion soon began to embrace this Whiteman’s way of worship.

The Success of Hamlet :: The Tragedy of Hamlet Essays

The Success of Hamlet  Ã‚        Ã‚  Ã‚   Is this Shakespearean tragedy Hamlet as successful a play as some critics say? Wherein lies the success? Is the protagonist the prime reason for the continuing success?    J. Dover Wilson in â€Å"What Happens in Hamlet† attributes much of the success of the drama to the characterization of the prince:    Finally, this compound of overwhelmingly convincing humanity and psychological contradiction is the greatest of Shakespeare’s legacies to the men of his own quality. No ‘part’ in the whole repertory of dramatic literature is so certain of success with almost any audience, and is yet open to such a remarkable variety of interpretation. There are as many Hamlets as there are actors who play him; and Bernhardt has proved that even a woman can score a success. (101)    Could the enduring reputation of Hamlet   be attributed to the â€Å"ultimate form† in which the Bard of Avon expressed his ideas? Robert B. Heilman says so in â€Å"The Role We Give Shakespeare†:    It is the way of venerable texts whose authenticity has impressed itself on the human imagination: he has said many things in what seems an ultimate form, and he is a fountainhead of quotation and universal center of allusion. â€Å"A rose by any other name† comes to the mouth as readily as â€Å"Pride goeth before a fall,† and seems no less wise. [. . .] The Ophelia-Laertes relationship is strongly felt near the end of Goethe’s Faust, Part I, and the Hamlet-Gertrude-Claudius triangle echoes throughout Chekhov’s Sea Gull (24-25).    This play is ranked by many as the very greatest ever written. Cumberland Clark in â€Å"The Supernatural in Hamlet† gives the consensus regarding Hamlet that exists among literary critics of today:    At least six or seven years pass after the writing of Midsummer Night’s Dream before we find Shakespeare engaged on Hamlet, the second of the great plays with an important Supernatural element, and, in the opinion of many, the greatest tragedy ever penned. (99)    There is no more exalted ranking than the above. Richard A. Lanham in the essay â€Å"Superposed Plays† maintains that no other English tragedy has generated the literary comment which this play has produced: â€Å"Hamlet is one of the great tragedies. It has generated more comment than any other written document in English literature, one would guess, reverent, serious comment on it as a serious play† (91).

A Dirty Job Chapter 3

3 BENEATH THE NUMBER FORTY-ONE BUS It was two weeks before Charlie left the apartment and walked down to the auto-teller on Columbus Avenue where he first killed a guy. His weapon of choice was the number forty-one bus, on its way from the Trans Bay station, by the Bay Bridge, to the Presidio, by the Golden Gate Bridge. If you're going to get hit by a bus in San Francisco, you want to go with the forty-one, because you can pretty much figure on there being a nice bridge view. Charlie hadn't really counted on killing a guy that morning. He had hoped to get some twenties for the register at the thrift store, check his balance, and maybe pick up some yellow mustard at the deli. (Charlie was not a brown mustard kind of guy. Brown mustard was the condiment equivalent of skydiving – it was okay for race-car drivers and serial killers, but for Charlie, a fine line of French's yellow was all the spice that life required.) After the funeral, friends and relatives had left a mountain of cold cuts in Charlie's fridge, which was all he'd eaten for the past two weeks, but now he was down to ham, dark rye, and premixed Enfamil formula, none of which was tolerable without yellow mustard. He'd secured the yellow squeeze bottle and felt safer now with it in his jacket pocket, but when the bus hit the guy, mustard completely slipped Charlie's mind. It was a warm day in October, the light had gone autumn soft over the city, the summer fog had ceased its relentless crawl out of the Bay each morning, and there was just enough breeze that the few sailboats that dotted the Bay looked like they might have been posing for an Impressionist painter. In the split second that Charlie's victim realized that he was being run over, he might not have been happy about the event, but he couldn't have picked a nicer day for it. The guy's name was William Creek. He was thirty-two and worked as a market analyst in the financial district, where he had been headed that morning when he decided to stop at the auto-teller. He was wearing a light wool suit and running shoes, his work shoes were tucked into a leather satchel under his arm. The handle of a compact umbrella protruded from the side pocket of the satchel, and it was this that caught Charlie's attention, for while the handle of the umbrella appeared to be made of faux walnut burl, it was glowing a dull red as if it had been heated in a forge. Charlie stood in the ATM line trying not to notice, trying to appear uninterested, but he couldn't help but stare. It was glowing, for fuck's sake, didn't anyone see it? William Creek glanced over his shoulder as he slid his card into the machine, saw Charlie looking at him, then tried to will his suit coat to expand into great manta-ray wings to block Charlie's view as he keyed in his PIN number. Creek snatched his card and the expectorated cash from the machine, turned, and headed away quickly toward the corner. Charlie couldn't stand it any longer. The umbrella handle had begun to pulsate red, like a beating heart. As Creek reached the curb, Charlie said, â€Å"Excuse me. Excuse me, sir!† When Creek turned, Charlie said, â€Å"Your umbrella – â€Å" At that point, the number forty-one bus was coming through the intersection at Columbus and Vallejo at about thirty-five miles per hour, angling toward the curb for its next stop. Creek looked down at the satchel under his arm where Charlie was pointing, and the heel of his running shoe caught the slight rise of the curb. He started to lose his balance, the sort of thing we all might do on any given day while walking through the city, trip on a crack in the sidewalk and take a couple of quick steps to regain equilibrium, but William Creek took only one step. Back. Off the curb. You can't really sugarcoat it at this point, can you? The number forty-one bus creamed him. He flew a good fifty feet through the air before he hit the back window of a SAAB like a great gabardine sack of meat, then bounced back to the pavement and commenced to ooze fluids. His belongings – the satchel, the umbrella, a gold tie bar, a Tag Heuer watch – skittered on down the street, ricocheting off tires, shoes, manhole covers, some coming to rest nearly a block away. Charlie stood at the curb trying to breathe. He could hear a tooting sound, like someone was blowing a toy train whistle – it was all he could hear, then someone ran into him and he realized it was the sound of his own rhythmic whimpering. The guy – the guy with the umbrella – had just been wiped out of the world. People rushed, crowded around, a dozen were barking into cell phones, the bus driver nearly flattened Charlie as he rushed down the sidewalk toward the carnage. Charlie staggered after him. â€Å"I was just going to ask him – â€Å" No one looked at Charlie. It had taken all of his will, as well as a pep talk from his sister, to leave the apartment, and now this? â€Å"I was just going to tell him that his umbrella was on fire,† Charlie said, as if he was explaining to his accusers. But no one accused him, really. They ran by him, some headed toward the body, some away from it – they batted him around and looked back, baffled, like they'd collided with a rough air current or a ghost instead of a man. â€Å"The umbrella,† Charlie said, looking for the evidence. Then he spotted it, almost down at the next corner, lying in the gutter, still glowing red, pulsating like failing neon. â€Å"There! See!† But people were gathered around the dead man in a wide semicircle, their hands to their mouths, and no one was paying any attention to the frightened thin man spouting nonsense behind them. He threaded his way through the crowd toward the umbrella, determined now to confirm his conviction, too far in shock to be afraid. When he was only ten feet away from it he looked up the street to make sure another bus wasn't coming before he ventured off the curb. He looked back just as a delicate, tar-black hand snaked out of the storm drain and snatched the compact umbrella off the street. Charlie backed away, looking around to see if anyone had seen what he had seen, but no one had. No one even made eye contact. A policeman trotted by and Charlie grabbed his sleeve as he passed, but when the cop spun around and his eyes went wide with confusion, then what appeared to be real terror, Charlie let him go. â€Å"Sorry,† he said. â€Å"Sorry. I can see you've got work to do – sorry.† The cop shuddered and pushed through the crowd of onlookers toward the battered body of William Creek. Charlie started running, across Columbus and up Vallejo, until his breath and heartbeat in his ears drowned all the sounds of the street. When he was a block away from his shop a great shadow moved over him, like a low-flying aircraft or a huge bird, and with it Charlie felt a chill vibrate up his back. He lowered his head, pumped his arms, and rounded the corner of Mason just as the cable car was passing, full of smiling tourists who looked right through him. He glanced up, just for a second, and he thought he saw something above, disappearing over the roof of the six-story Victorian across the street, then he bolted through the front door of his shop. â€Å"Hey, boss,† Lily said. She was sixteen, pale, and a little bottom heavy – her grown-woman form still in flux between baby fat and baby bearing. Today her hair happened to be lavender: fifties-housewife helmet hair in Easter-basket cellophane pastel. Charlie was bent over, leaning against a case full of curios by the door, sucking in deep raspy gulps of secondhand store mustiness. â€Å"I – think – I – just – killed – a – guy,† he gasped. â€Å"Excellent,† Lily said, ignoring equally his message and his demeanor. â€Å"We're going to need change for the register.† â€Å"With a bus,† Charlie said. â€Å"Ray called in,† she said. Ray Macy was Charlie's other employee, a thirty-nine-year-old bachelor with an unhealthy lack of boundaries between the Internet and reality. â€Å"He's flying to Manila to meet the love of his life. A Ms. LoveYouLongTime. Ray's convinced that they are soul mates.† â€Å"There was something in the sewer,† Charlie said. Lily examined a chip in her black nail polish. â€Å"So I cut school to cover. I've been doing that since you've been, uh, gone. I'm going to need a note.† Charlie stood up and made his way to the counter. â€Å"Lily, did you hear what I said?† He grabbed her by the shoulders, but she spun out of his grasp. â€Å"Ouch! Fuck. Back off, Asher, you sado freak, that's a new tattoo.† She punched him in the arm, hard, and backed away, rubbing her own shoulder. â€Å"I heard, you. Cease your trippin', s'il vous plaà ®t.† Lately, since discovering Baudelaire's Fleurs du Mal in a stack of used books in the back room, Lily had been peppering her speech with French phrases. â€Å"French better expresses the profound noirness of my existence,† she had said. Charlie put both hands on the counter to keep them from shaking, then spoke slowly and deliberately, like he was speaking to someone for whom English was a second language: â€Å"Lily, I'm having kind of a bad month, and I appreciate that you are throwing away your education so you can come here and alienate customers for me, but if you don't sit down and show me a little fucking human decency, then I'm going to have to let you go.† Lily sat down on the chrome-and-vinyl diner stool behind the register and pulled her long lavender bangs out of her eyes. â€Å"So you want me to pay close attention to your confession to murder? Take notes, maybe get an old cassette recorder off the shelf and get everything down on tape? You're saying that by trying to ignore your obvious distress, which I would have to later recall to the police, so I can be personally responsible for sending you to the gas chamber, that I'm being inconsiderate?† Charlie shuddered. â€Å"Jeez, Lily.† He was continually surprised at the speed and accuracy of her creepiness. She was like some creepiness child prodigy. But on the bright side, her extreme darkness made him realize that he probably wasn't going to go to the gas chamber. â€Å"It wasn't that kind of killing. There was something following me, and – â€Å" â€Å"Silence!† Lily put her hand up, â€Å"I'd rather not show my employee spirit by committing every detail of your heinous crime to my photographic memory to be recalled in court later. I'll just say that I saw you but you seemed normal for someone without a clue.† â€Å"You don't have a photographic memory.† â€Å"I do, too, and it's a curse. I can never forget the futility of – â€Å" â€Å"You forgot to take out the trash at least eight times last month.† â€Å"I didn't forget.† Charlie took a deep breath, the familiarity of arguing with Lily was actually calming him down. â€Å"Okay then, without looking, what color shirt are you wearing?† He raised an eyebrow like he had her there. Lily smiled and for a second he could see that she was just a kid, kind of cute and goofy under the fierce makeup and attitude. â€Å"Black.† â€Å"Lucky guess.† â€Å"You know I only own black.† She grinned. â€Å"Glad you didn't ask hair color, I just changed this morning.† â€Å"That's not good for you, you know. That dye has toxins.† Lily lifted the lavender wig to reveal her close-cut maroon locks underneath, then dropped it again. â€Å"I'm all natural.† She stood and patted the bar stool. â€Å"Sit, Asher. Confess. Bore me.† Lily leaned back against the counter, and tilted her head to look attentive, but with her dark eye makeup and lavender hair it came off more like a marionette with a broken string. Charlie came around the counter and sat on the stool. â€Å"I was just in line behind this William Creek guy, and I saw his umbrella glowing†¦Ã¢â‚¬  And Charlie went through the whole story to her, the umbrella, the bus, the hand from the storm sewer, the bolt for home with the giant dark shadow above the rooftops, and when he was finished, Lily asked, â€Å"So how do you know his name?† â€Å"Huh?† Charlie said. Of all of the horrible, fantastic things she might have asked about, why that? â€Å"How do you know the guy's name?† Lily repeated. â€Å"You barely spoke to the guy before he bit it. You see it on his receipt or something?† â€Å"No, I†¦Ã¢â‚¬  He didn't have any idea how he knew the man's name, but suddenly there was a picture in his head of it written out in big, block letters. He leapt off the stool. â€Å"I gotta go, Lily.† He ran through the door into the stockroom and up the steps. â€Å"I still need a note for school,† Lily shouted from below, but Charlie was dashing through the kitchen, past a large Russian woman who was bouncing his baby daughter in her arms, and into the bedroom, where he snatched up the notepad he kept on his nightstand by the phone. There, in his own blocky handwriting, was written the name William Creek and, under it, the number 12. He sat down hard on the bed, holding the notepad like it was a vial of explosives. Behind him came the heavy steps of Mrs. Korjev as she followed him into the bedroom. â€Å"Mr. Asher, what is wrong? You run by like burning bear.† And Charlie, because he was a Beta Male, and there had evolved over millions of years a standard Beta response to things inexplicable, said, â€Å"Someone is fucking with me.† Lily was touching up her nail polish with a black Magic Marker when Stephan, the mailman, came through the shop door. â€Å"‘Sup, Darque?† Stephan said, sorting a stack of mail out of his bag. He was forty, short, muscular, and black. He wore wraparound sunglasses, which were almost always pushed back on his head over hair braided in tight cornrows. Lily had mixed feelings about him. She liked him because he called her Darque, short for Darquewillow Elventhing, the name under which she received mail at the shop, but because he was cheerful and seemed to like people, she deeply mistrusted him. â€Å"Need you to sign,† Stephan said, offering her an electronic pad, on which she scribbled Charles Baudelaire with great flourish and without even looking. Stephan plopped the mail on the counter. â€Å"Working alone again? So where is everyone?† â€Å"Ray's in the Philippines, Charlie's traumatized.† She sighed. â€Å"Weight of the world falls on me – â€Å" â€Å"Poor Charlie,† Stephan said. â€Å"They say that's the worst thing you can go through, losing a spouse.† â€Å"Yeah, there's that, too. Today he's traumatized because he saw a guy get hit by a bus up on Columbus.† â€Å"Heard about that. He gonna be okay?† â€Å"Well, fuck no, Stephan, he got hit by a bus.† Lily looked up from her nails for the first time. â€Å"I meant Charlie.† Stephan winked, despite her harsh tone. â€Å"Oh, he's Charlie.† â€Å"How's the baby?† â€Å"Evidently she leaks noxious substances.† Lily waved the Magic Marker under her nose as if it might mask the smell of ripened baby. â€Å"All good, then,† Stephan smiled. â€Å"That's it for today. You got anything for me?† â€Å"I took in some red vinyl platforms yesterday. Men's size ten.† Stephan collected vintage seventies pimp wear. Lily was to be on the lookout for anything that came through the shop. â€Å"How tall?† â€Å"Four inches.† â€Å"Low altitude,† Stephan said, as if that explained everything. â€Å"Take care, Darque.† Lily waved her Magic Marker at him as he left, and started sorting through the mail. There were mostly bills, a couple of flyers, but one thick black envelope that felt like a book or catalog. It was addressed to Charlie Asher â€Å"in care of† Asher's Secondhand and had a postmark from Night's Plutonian Shore, which evidently was in whatever state started with a U. (Lily found geography not only mind-numbingly boring, but also, in the age of the Internet, irrelevant.) Was it not addressed to the care of Asher's Secondhand? Lily reasoned. And was she, Lily Darquewillow Elventhing, not manning the counter, the sole employee – nay – the de facto manager, of said secondhand store? And wasn't it her right – nay – her responsibility to open this envelope and spare Charlie the irritation of the task? Onward, Elventhing! Your destiny is set, and if it be not destiny, then surely there is plausible deniability, which in the parlance of politics is the same thing. She drew a jewel-encrusted dagger from under the counter (the stones valued at over seventy-three cents) and slit the envelope, pulled out the book, and fell in love. The cover was shiny, like a children's picture book, with a colorful illustration of a grinning skeleton with tiny people impaled on his fingertips, and all of them appeared to be having the time of their lives, as if they were enjoying a carnival ride that just happened to involve having a gaping hole being punched through the chest. It was festive – lots of flowers and candy in primary colors, done in the style of Mexican folk art. The Great Big Book of Death, was the title, spelled out across the top of the cover in cheerful, human femur font letters. Lily opened the book to the first page, where a note was paper-clipped. This should explain everything. I'm sorry. – MF Lily removed the note and opened the book to the first chapter: â€Å"So Now You're Death: Here's What You'll Need.† And it was all she needed. This was, very possibly, the coolest book she had ever seen. And certainly not anything Charlie would be able to appreciate, especially in his current state of heightened neurosis. She slipped the book into her backpack, then tore the note and the envelope into tiny pieces and buried them at the bottom of the wastebasket.

The Know-Nothing Party Opposed Immigration to America

Of all the American political parties in existence in the 19th century, perhaps none generated more controversy than the Know-Nothing Party, or the Know-Nothings. Officially known as the American Party, it originally emerged from secret societies organized to violently oppose immigration to America. Its shadowy beginnings, and popular nickname, meant it would eventually go down  in history as something of a joke. Yet in their time, the Know-Nothings made their dangerous presence known—and no one was laughing. The party unsuccessfully ran candidates for president, including, in one disastrous effort, former president Millard Fillmore. While the party failed at the national level, in local races the anti-immigrant message was often very popular. Adherents to the Know-Nothings strident message also served in Congress and at various local levels of government. Nativism in America As immigration from Europe increased in the early 1800s, citizens who had been born in the United States began to feel resentment at the new arrivals. Those opposed to immigrants became known as nativists. Violent encounters between immigrants and native-born Americans would occasionally occur in American cities in the 1830s and early 1840s. In July 1844, riots broke out in the city of Philadelphia. Nativists battled Irish immigrants, and two Catholic churches and a Catholic school were burned by mobs. At least 20 people were killed in the mayhem. In New York City, Archbishop John Hughes called upon the Irish to defend the original St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Mott Street. Irish parishioners, rumored to be heavily armed, occupied the churchyard, and the anti-immigrant mobs that had paraded in the city were scared off from attacking the cathedral. No Catholic churches were burned in New York. The catalyst for this upsurge in the nativist movement was an increase in immigration in the 1840s, especially the great numbers of Irish immigrants who flooded East Coast cities during the years of the Great Famine in the late 1840s. The  fear at the time sounded much like fears expressed about immigrants today: outsiders will come in and take jobs or perhaps even seize political power. Emergence of the Know-Nothing Party Several small political parties espousing nativist doctrine existed in the early 1800s, among them the American Republican Party and the Nativist Party. At the same time, secret societies, such as the Order of United Americans and the Order of the Star-Spangled Banner, sprang up in American cities. Their members were sworn to keep immigrants out of America, or at least to keep them segregated from mainstream society once they arrived. Members of established political parties were at times baffled by these organizations, as their leaders would not publicly reveal themselves. And members, when asked about the organizations, were instructed to answer, â€Å"I know nothing.† Hence, the nickname for the political party that grew out of these organizations, the American Party, formed in 1849. Know-Nothing Followers The Know-Nothings and their anti-immigrant and anti-Irish fervor became a popular movement for a time. Lithographs sold in the 1850s depict a young man described in a caption as Uncle Sams Youngest Son, Citizen Know Nothing. The Library of Congress, which holds a copy of such a print, describes it by noting the portrait is representing the nativist ideal of the Know Nothing Party. Many Americans, of course, were appalled by the Know-Nothings. Abraham Lincoln expressed his own disgust with the political party in a letter written in 1855. Lincoln noted that if the Know-Nothings ever took power, the Declaration of Independence would have to be amended to say that all men are created equal except negroes, and foreigners, and Catholics. Lincoln went on to say he would rather emigrate to Russia, where despotism is out in the open, than live in such an America. The Partys Platform The basic premise of the party was a strong, if not virulent, stand against immigration and immigrants. Know-Nothing candidates had to be born in the United States. And there was also a concerted effort to agitate to change the laws so that only immigrants who had lived in the U.S. for 25 years could become citizens. Such a lengthy residency requirement for citizenship had a deliberate purpose: it would mean that recent arrivals, especially the Irish Catholics coming to the U.S. in great numbers, would not be able to vote for many years. Performance in Elections The Know-Nothings organized nationally throughout the early 1850s, under the leadership of James W. Barker, a New York City merchant and political leader. They ran candidates for office in 1854, and had some success in local elections in the northeast. In New York City, a notorious bare-knuckles boxer named Bill Poole, also known as Bill the Butcher, led gangs of enforcers who would fan out on election days, intimidating voters.   In 1856 former president Millard Fillmore ran as the Know-Nothing candidate for president. The campaign was a disaster. Fillmore, who had originally been a Whig, refused to subscribe to the Know-Nothing’s obvious prejudice against Catholics and immigrants. His stumbling campaign ended, not surprisingly, in a crushing defeat (James Buchanan won on the Democratic ticket, beating Fillmore as well as Republican candidate John C. Fremont). End of the Party In the mid-1850s, the American Party, which had been neutral on the slavery issue, came to align itself with the pro-slavery position. As the power base of Know-Nothings was in the northeast, that proved to be the wrong position to take. The stance on slavery probably hastened the decline of the Know-Nothings. In 1855, Poole, the partys main enforcer, was shot in a barroom confrontation by a rival from another political faction. He lingered for nearly two weeks before dying, and  tens of thousands of spectators gathered as his body was carried through the streets of lower Manhattan during his funeral. Despite such shows of public support, the party was fracturing. According to an  1869 obituary of Know-Nothing leader James W. Barker in the New York Times, Barker had essentially left the party in the late 1850s and threw his support behind Republican candidate Abraham Lincoln in the election of 1860.  By 1860, the Know-Nothings Party was essentially a relic, and it  joined the list of  extinct political parties  in America. Legacy   The nativist movement in America did not begin with the Know-Nothings, and it certainly didn’t end with them. Prejudice against new immigrants continued throughout the 19th century. And, of course, it has never ended completely.