1727

Dear Journal, It is with heavy heart that I tell you that you are my only companion still in this life. Maria passed two weeks ago and I am sure it will not be long until I find my own grave. Will you stay with me until I leave as well? Maybe in the afterlife I will see Maria again, but does that mean I must leave you behind? Do you fear death? Because I am finding that I only fear my regrets.

Forgive me for asking such silly questions. I only wish you had a mouth to answer me, but since you do not have lips or a tongue, I am only asking myself questions.

If you would remember, today is the anniversary of Anna Beth’s departure (but of course you remember, you made sure to remind me in my own handwriting as I have started looking back at my life through your leafs).

As my regrets begin to eat me, I believe it is time to go search for Anna Beth. I cannot die without seeing my precious daughter’s face one more time, regardless of the fight we had ten years ago.

The last parcel she sent, declared she was in London, but that was two years ago. I can only hope she is still someplace in that terrifying city. God watch over her! Speaking of that parcel, Maria was buried wearing the necklace Anna Beth sent her. I can still remember Maria’s face when she tore open the crudely wrapped, newspaper package. She had this expression like she smelled sour milk with one nostril and wild flowers with the other. She never wore the necklace while she breathed, but she never had the heart to throw it away either.

And I, I remember the newspaper the pendant was wrapped in, an issue of //Mist’s Weekly Journal//. I wonder if she read the paper before using it for Maria’s necklace. I wonder if Anna Beth reads on a daily basis like a scholar. Maybe she is a writer or an actress or a poet or even a mother. My heart cannot handle these thoughts.

Tomorrow, I will leave for London. I know what Maria would want. I must find my daughter.

Your dear friend, Zachariah Nickel Feb 9, 1727

Dear Journal, With only a minor hitch in travel, (one of the carriage wheels broke and I had to stay a night at an inn along the road) I made it to London. The city is full of people hustling and bustling around with such serious expressions. No one even stops to admire the snow that has begun to fall. They are all so concerned with their business matters. It is a madhouse.

I am staying with an old colleague, Henry Oaken. If you recall, he worked on my farm for five years before leaving to start his own business. Apparently, he is doing quite well for himself.

I spent the day exploring my surroundings, but being so frightened by the crowds, I chose to stay close to Henry’s only journeying into a coffee house for lunch and then purchasing today’s copy of //Mist’s Weekly Journal//. I have never been much of a reader, but when I saw the name, I couldn't stop thinking of Anna Beth.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">I even asked the shopkeeper about the publication.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">The gentleman informed me that the publication started on the 15th of December, 1716 by a Mr. Nathaniel Mist, but most of the other writers used pseudonyms to protect their identities. Protect them from what? I had asked him.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">He explained that Mr. Mist was a Jacobite and constantly attacked the Whig government and our King (God save him) with the publication (Chapman). Apparently, the publication and Mr. Mist were tried on accounts of sedition, but still the publication continues. He even went on to tell me, looking both ways first, that a certain Mr. Daniel Defoe was said to be writing for the journal, though their relationship has since been on rocky terms. Defoe was paid by the government to moderate Mist’s anti-government writing and feign friendship with him (Chapman). When I told him I knew not a Mr. Defoe, he gave me a look like we were on a vessel and a storm was coming for us. I will have to remember that name for later inquisition.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">I still had not opened the copy of the journal I had purchased, but the gentleman explained that the publication mainly focused on local scandals, political issues, and literature. None of these listed things are of much interest to me, but I have to wonder why Anna Beth was in possession of such a publication. Maybe they are of interest to her? What if she has grown more intelligent than her dear, old father? What if she thinks me a fool when I find her? No! I shall read every page of this periodical until I can appear a cultured and intelligent man in the eyes of Anna Beth.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 0px; overflow: hidden;">

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Your dear friend, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Zachariah Nickel <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Feb 11, 1727

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Dear Journal, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">I woke up with the sun this morning. There was a delightful layer of frost over everything visible on the streets below my window. Henry Oaken was kind enough to give me my own space in one of his guest rooms. The room is small, but it has all I need in it: a bed and a desk. The window is perfectly placed right over the desk, so as I write this, I can look out at the street. But I am off track! I must tell you about the start of my day before I tell you about its end.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">As I started, this morning I awoke early and Henry’s servant, Ms. Rebecka Faustus, beautiful and kind girl, brought up tea to me. She also said that Henry had left before the sun rose for something important, a new shipment come to the harbor I suppose.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">So I began the day with a cup of tea and the issue of //Mist’s Weekly Journal// I had purchased the other day. (I wonder if Anna Beth has read this week’s edition yet. Maybe we were reading it at the same time and looking through a foggy window at the busy city below us.)

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Mr. Mist spent a good deal of the issue talking about the war outside of our borders. I admit that I am not well informed on the subject of warfare; I only know that there is always a war being fought someplace just over the horizon. Mr. Mist condemned the war and the government which continues to tax its citizens to fund the bloodshed. He wrote:

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Ore Commonwealth or People often rises by the Decline of another, and it frequently happens, that either the oppression of a Government, the //Multitude of Taxes//, or, perhaps, the natural Sloth of a People shall drive Arts and Manufactures away, and send them to inhabit other Lands, where they can be better supported.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">I am no politician or philosopher or brilliant thinker, but even I can tell that the loss of artists and manufactures would be a major problem. Without the manufactures producing the objects we need, we would be no better than some undeveloped region with savages using rocks and sticks as hairbrushes and dinner utensils.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Why do we fund a war for our King (God still save him!)? What are we still fighting about? Colonization and expansion? If you ask me, I would say we might as well stay put! What is the problem with the land we have? Instead of fighting for regions far off our shores, why not just build our country to be the best it can? Instead of driving the manufactures and artists away, we should fund them to produce for our country and give all of us the sense of pride in our nation we have been lacking of late.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Oh my, I almost sound like an anarchist with my defiance written in your leafs. I do hope you will not tell anyone these thoughts, dear Journal. Then again, Mr. Mist has given me a bit of courage on the matter: “But since we may safely speak of these Things with that Liberty which is practiced and allowed in all free Nations, I shall not stick to say, that if there be a possibility of composing the present Differences, I heartily wish there may be no War”. I have to agree with Mr. Mist: I as well wish there to be no war, if we can help it. He mentions the possibility of alliances, but can our countries stop with their pettiness long enough for that to happen? But still, his courage to speak out for his beliefs is awe-inspiring. I only wish I could be that brave one day.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">With the heaviness of the topic, it was refreshing to see right after it, the submission of a poem by a man called Cassio. Mr. Mist published the poem in the issue. It was a love poem. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of my poor Maria. The poem brought me to tears.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">“But grant, when I did more to prove / [Love’s] Force than fight, and say I love, / I wrong’d the tender Flame.”

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">I shall say no more on the subject, less I be returned to my blubbering state. In the ads however, I came across a multitude of selections newly published including something by a man called Captain Gulliver, //Memoirs of the Court of Lilliput//, (though to be quite honest, I have no clue where this place named Lilliput is) and an essay entitled //Conjugal Lewdness: or, Matrimonial Whoredom//. The man from whom I bought this periodical was correct in saying that Mr. Mist’s journal does span the range of politics and current events to literature and the arts.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Henry returned from his adventures in time for lunch, masterfully cooked by sweet Rebecka. He blustered into the house with a large smile upon his mug, but wouldn’t tell me of its source until we were sitting before plates at the table. Before I could even dip my spoon into the lamb soup, Henry exploded with news of my daughter. The soup was quickly forgotten.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">I had employed Henry in the search for Anna Beth, knowing that he had more connections in the city than I shall ever hope to have. At the description and name of my daughter, one of his associates, a fine and intelligent gentleman, said he knew of her. He said he had run into her several times at the book shop on the corner of Fortress Road. Apparently, Anna Beth was an avid reader and was constantly purchasing new titles from the shop.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Without finishing lunch, and barely getting directions from Henry, I ran into town and found the shop. A quick search of the store revealed Anna Beth was not there at the time, but still, now I had a sliver of hope in finding my sweet daughter. However the journey was not for nothing. On one of the shelves I saw the name Defoe. I had promised myself that I would keep the name in mind and decided to purchase an essay of his, only to realize I had already seen the name of the essay before, //Conjugal Lewdness: or, Matrimonial Whoredom//. It seemed a little scandalous for my usual taste, but when in London…

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Or maybe it is my old age keeping me from feeling comfortable with these new modern thoughts. Still, I purchased the selection and will tell you what I can decipher from it another day. As of the moment, I sit at the desk in my room thinking only of Anna Beth and returning to the book shop tomorrow to find her.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Your dear friend, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Zachariah Nickel <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Feb 12, 1727

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Dear Journal, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">It has been almost a week since I have started checking the book shop on Fortress Street. Most days I go twice, but today out of desperation, I went thrice to find my Anna Beth. Unfortunately, God has yet to give his favor to me! I know he has everything in his divine hand, but patience has never been my strong suit and I find myself slowly going mad in this city. Henry says I can stay as long as I like, but I am missing my Maria, who was buried by her garden. I want to return to her soon, but still there is a nagging feeling in my bones that keeps dragging me from my bed and to the book shop.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">However, I have finished Defoe’s essay, //Conjugal Lewdness: or, Matrimonial Whoredom.//

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Mr. Defoe basically channels all his thoughts and emotions about the lack of integrity within the bounds of marriage into this piece. Defoe speaks of the use of marriage as a mean of gaining financial advancement and soiling the marriage bed with improper love outside of marriage. As I read, I could only thank God for my darling Maria, who was the only love of my life.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Defoe writes about the point of relations before marriage, and states:

<span style="background-color: #f2f8fe; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">No pre-existing engagement or promise between the man and woman no nor any subsequent performance of the promise can be substituted in the room of marriage, or make the coming together (which is so, as above, forbidden) be lawful or justifiable.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">He does not skirt corners in this essay, but relentlessly reveals his opinions about the abuse of marriage. He speaks with vehement dislike for those who sinned against God and gave into lust before a proper ceremony was given to the two under the watchful eye of our Lord. And as Defoe describes it, this problem is only growing in our country as many take on mistresses, lovers and freely offer their bodies for pleasure.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">But, Defoe makes the point of describing the short comings of arranged marriages. He states that there is not one in ten arranged marriages that will work out. Unfortunately, Maria and I are the anti-examples of this. We were arranged to be married and the dowry was given great importance in our marriage arrangements, but still Maria and I fell in love wholly. Defoe speaks out against money being a manipulator of love and vows, but no one can deny its importance in seeing any marriage work.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Sure, it is possible to be happy under vows without financial balance, but there is nothing wrong with wanting enough money to raise your family and craving that stability in marriage.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Defoe is adamant about the evils of using marriage as a means of securing wealth, and though I agree, I cannot agree with Defoe criminalization of those simply seeking security. However, I will say that marriage should never be a capital transaction, but should always be a combining of two in love and under God’s laws.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">“For as I find my Judgment of Things is like to differ from others, that what they think lawful I shall condemn as criminal, and censure what they think moderate and sober, the Preliminaries ought to be fettled as we go…” At least Defoe acknowledges that his views may differ from others.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">What I thought was the most important part of the work was Defoe’s definition of a correct marriage: “I think ‘tis necessary to take notice here how just it is, and indispensably, nay absolutely necessary to the Happiness of a married Life, that the Persons marrying should have not only an Acquainiance [Acquaintance] with one another before Marriage, but that they should be engaged to each other by a solid and durable Affection, professing to love one another above all other Persons; choosing and being the real choice of each other.” Defoe even claims this to be the chief article of matrimony! Though I stumbled upon many things I did not fully agree with in the reading, this point I can fully support: One must choose the other over all other persons for any marriage to be true and efficient.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Your dear friend, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Zachariah Nickel <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Feb 19, 1727

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Dear Journal, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">God answered my prayers! Today, I received note from Mr. Barnes, the owner of the shop and I have become quite close over the days, saying to come to the store with the speed of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Without a thought, I rushed to the shop almost felling several bystanders along the way.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">And there she was. Her mother’s beautiful brown hair curled at her shoulders, my blue eyes sighting me as soon as I stumbled through the door, the same expression she used to wear as a youth when something surprised and delighted her; this woman was my Anna Beth.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">In the middle of the shelves of other people’s stories, we met in an embrace that even Maria beyond the grave could feel. Anna Beth had heard of her mother’s passing, but was not sure if I wanted to see her. She had started the journey home several times, only to turn back before ever knocking on our door. She even said one day she had made it as far as my front steps before turning back and returning to London.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">She had business she had to attend to that afternoon, but we arranged to meet tomorrow morning for breakfast. As she left, I saw her put down a novel she had been flipping through: //Gulliver’s Travels//. Before leaving I purchased the book.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">I plan to spend the rest of the day reading it and thinking of tomorrow’s meeting with the woman who was once my shy, little girl. Maria, if only you could see our daughter now.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Your dear friend, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Zachariah Nickel <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">March 24, 1727

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Dear Journal, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">This morning, I met with Anna Beth at a coffee house close to the book shop. We discussed how her life within the city’s gates was and about what she had been doing. She informed me that she had originally worked for a seamstress when she first arrived, but now she was engaged to be married to a banker by the name of Artemis Clark. Oh the years I have missed! I lament the maturation of my little girl outside of my home walls. She told me that I must meet him! She had nothing but compliments for the gentleman. He was intelligent, kind, successful, loyal, and she was completely in love with him. I nodded and listened carefully, trying to hide my bitter tears. I had just found my daughter, only to discover that she was another man’s woman now!

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">She asked where I had been staying. She recalled Henry Oaken, but insisted that I move in with her and her fiancé, and sell the old house. She said she never wanted to see me go again after so many years of being apart. She told me she was sorry about mother’s passing and said I should never be alone again.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">So she arranged for some of Artemis’s friends to help me move my few belongings from Henry’s to her fiancé’s house and begin the sale of my old estate.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">I do not know how I feel about Anna Beth living with a man she is not yet married to, but I am in no position to tell her how to live. She has managed it for years without my guidance! But still in my ear, I hear Defoe’s voice hiss winds of lust and sin about the home I now sit in, writing this entry. They even share a room together! My poor heart!

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">No! She is my daughter and I will love her no matter her sins! And still another voice whispers of true love and the purity of full devotion to another. I can see the same way I looked at Maria in the eyes of Artemis when he received Anna Beth and me. From what I can discern from this young gentleman, I can tell he is a man of proper breeding and virtue. When Anna Beth introduced us, he received me like I was his own father and welcomed me graciously into his home.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">I shall save all judgment for you, friend, because I have lost all right to have such a voice with Anna Beth. The girl forced to grow on her own does not need a father’s advice, only his love and acceptance.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Your dear friend, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Zachariah Nickel <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">March 25, 1727

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Dear Journal, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">It has been an absolute pleasure living with Anna Beth and Artemis, and to make things better, I finally sold the old estate and the farm to a young couple. I had to return to show them around and turn the key over to them, but I found myself missing the city.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Anna Beth came with me and we spent several hours sitting beside Maria’s grave. I will miss her, but I think she would want me to move on and be with our daughter. I will always carry Maria with me, so we are finally a family again, and soon we will be adding Artemis to that family.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">I have since finished the novel //Gulliver’s Travels,// written by Captain Gulliver. The novel follows Captain Gulliver as he constantly finds himself in bizarre, striking regions. I still cannot believe that some of these places exist. A land of giants and floating islands! It only shows how confined to England I have remained my entire life.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Gulliver finds himself being first stranded in the land of Lilliput, with the inhabitants who are no more than six inches in stature. Can you imagine that? “And as for the Inhabitants, I had Reason to believe I might be a Match for the greatest Armies they could bring against me, if they were all of the same Size with him that I saw” (18). The Lilliputians treat Gulliver as a prisoner and then a war machine against others of their kind that plan attacks from across a body of water. In the end, Gulliver is sentenced to death, but survives to return to England.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Next, Gulliver finds himself as a plaything and commodity in a country of giants! I think of myself as a tall gentleman, but by description, even I pale in comparison: “[The inhabitant] appeared as Tall as an ordinary Spire-steeple; and took about ten Yards at every Stride, as near as I could guess” (77). Gulliver is taken in as an intrigue and displayed as a curiosity until the queen of the giants purchases Gulliver. However, Gulliver’s experience in Brobdingnag is filled with hardships and near deaths, as even rats, wasps, and monkeys are lethal beasts for Gulliver to face.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">His travels then take him to the floating island of Laputa, where the inhabitants are obsessed with music and science. I would give anything to be able to see this flying island for myself! Apparently, it functions on magnetic stones, but as a simple man, I can barely understand these mechanics! And finally, he finds himself in a world of talking horses and feral humans called Yahoos! I find that I am now looking at horses in a different light! <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">The novel really shows the function of other regions outside of England. Maybe our way of doing things is not entirely the best way, as the giants disapproved of our means of warfare and government and the Houyhnhnms seem to think of us as a lesser species like the Yahoos! Gulliver had an opportunity to explore astounding place, but despite his pride in his nation, all of these areas seem to express something negative about our culture. I can only wonder if such experiences change what a man is all about.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Maybe one day, I can see such places for myself. Maybe Anna Beth would be interested in going with me.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Your dear friend, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Zachariah Nickel <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">April 1, 1727

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Dear Journal, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">When I told Anna Beth about //Gulliver’s Travels// and my wishes to see the places he had ventured to, she laughed at me. Laughed at her own father!

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">I had asked her over brunch if she would ever want to visit Laputa, the floating island, hoping to sound cultured and intelligent, but she only blinked at me like I was a drooling fool and informed me that Gulliver was a fictional character and all of the places he visited, save his home in England, were made up by a man named Jonathan Swift.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Well I have a couple choice words for this Mr. Swift! How dare he lie about all this under the pretense of a true travel narrative! Anna Beth, having friends in the printing field, had a hefty amount of information on this Jonathan Swift fellow.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">He was a dean of St Patrick’s Cathedral (a religious man spreading lies, what has this world come to?). He had first published an anonymous poem called //Ode: to the King on his Irish Expedition// and from there continued to publish poetry and essays ( <span style="background-color: #ffffff; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Probyn).

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">He was first ordained in Ireland and then became a priest in 1695. He first came to London on September 7th, 1710.

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Swift seems to voice a lot of his political opinions in his work, but chooses to keep his identity secret when it comes to publishing such lies. He even went far enough to publish other works under the title “the Author of Gulliver’s Travels”.

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">When I asked Anna Beth why a man would do such a thing and why people would knowingly read such lies, she told me //Gulliver’s Travels// was what she called a “Satire” and a “Parody”. He satirizes our modern British culture to bring about some kind of moral point. And his work is a parody of the travel narratives which have recently become so popular.

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Swift even said about //Gulliver’s Travels//: “They are admirable Things, and will wonderfully mend the World” (Probyn). Sure, Mr. Swift presents some good points in his novel, but to mend the world! Not even the King (bless him) can mend the world!

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Anna Beth, sensing my unrest about Mr. Swift told me it is a record of the politics he experience as an Irishman under the rule of Queen Anne. She continued:

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Its allegorical mode of satire constantly modulates between specific allusions and general types, reflecting characters and events traceable to prototypes in Stuart and Georgian court politics (in Lilliput and Brobdingnag), and to people and events in Swift's own personal life (the king of Brobdingnag as Temple, for example, or the Flying Island as an allegory of English imperialism in Ireland) (Probyn).

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">I could only stare at my daughter as she spoke so smoothly and intellectually. I can no longer deny how brilliant she has become in her years apart from me. I guess I can learn to appreciate this story for its undertones, and attempt to forget about its blatant lies! <span style="background-color: #ffffff; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Anna Beth said she would rather visit the Ottoman Empire.



<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Your dear friend, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Zachariah Nickel <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">April 2, 1727

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Dear Journal, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Today, Anna Beth pounded on my door and shouted about going to the theater that afternoon. I have never gone to any kind of theater or seen any play by any title, so I was a bit nervous as I left the safety of my room for breakfast. Anna Beth had eggs, bread and marmalade, and tea ready for when I presented myself in the dining room.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Over breakfast, Anna Beth decided to “educate” me about the current happenings of //The London Theater//, to which she referred to herself as a master of. She explained that the theater season normally stretched from September to September and the most prominent theaters of the day were King’s Theater, Drury Lane, Lincoln Inn’s Fields, Hickford’s and New Haymarket. Apparently, I had arrived in London during the right time, because as she went on to inform me, there was quite the diversity of entertainment available than in recent years. English drama was still very popular with some emphasis on pantomime. There was a rise of Italian opera and comedians this year, but I told Anna Beth I was not interested in either (Avery).

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">If I was going to the theater in London, I wanted to see something from our home country. After my comment, Anna Beth started talking about a woman by the name of Madam Violante, who had taken over the Haymarket this year. Madam Violante was an entrepreneur of pantomimic pieces, dancing and acrobatics. This certainly struck my fancy more than any Italian performance (Avery).

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Anna Beth said that she had seen //Harlequin and Three Rival Lovers// by Madam Violante, but as it contained little spoken word, she feared that one of Madam Violante’s plays would go over my head. My own daughter! Telling me what I could and couldn’t comprehend! But she had been so gracious to me so far, I chose not to strike up an argument and risk losing her again.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">No. She recommended we go see //Macbeth// playing at Drury Lane that night. I agreed and we left after dinner to walk around the city, before arriving at Drury Lane for the performance (Avery). Artemis had to leave for a lunch with a client at his bank, but he promised to meet us before the show began.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">We bought tickets for the pit and Artemis arrived right as the first line was being spoken: “ <span style="background-color: #ffffff; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">When shall we three meet again <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> / In thunder, lightning, or in rain? <span style="background-color: #ffffff; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">”

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">I tell you this in confidence dear friend: I never expected myself to enjoy the theater so much. Mrs. Berriman’s performance as Lady Macbeth was breath-taking and the decorations of the theater were stunning (Avery).

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">I have gotten to experience so much since arriving in London and finding Anna Beth. There is only one thing that could make this any better, and that would be having my sweet Maria here with me, so she can see what an amazing woman our lovely Anna Beth has grown into.

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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Your dear friend, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Zachariah Nickel <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">April 4, 1727

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Dear Journal, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">I apologize for my lack of writing recently, I have been trying to live my life outside of the house with my sweet Anna Beth and her new husband, Artemis! You would not believe how beautiful Anna Beth looked on her wedding day!

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">But there was also bad news. Our noble king, King George, came across the reaper on one of his travels. I waited until this week’s edition of //Mist’s Weekly Journal//, thinking Mr. Mist would have something snarky to say about the death of a man he disliked so much. However, the article on our King’s death was very short and emotionless, devoid of any kind of recourse. See for yourself: “On Wednesday about Three of the Clock in the Afternoon, Mr. Crew, one of his Majesty’s Messengers arrived here with the News that his late Majesty departed this Life, at Two o’Clock last Sunday Morning, at Osnabrugh, of a fit of an Apoplexy.” Mr. Mist goes on to describe the appointment of the new king, King George II and then quickly moves on to other matters.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Anna Beth, Artemis and I will be attending a memorial service being held for the king today. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Your dear friend, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Zachariah Nickel <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">June 17, 1727

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Dear Journal, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">We can both agree that I have come a far ways from the secluded country life I once lived, and now I am even considering myself a Londoner! I’m not entirely sure that this is a good thing, but I have grown so much, even in my age, and learned so much I never would have.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">From Defoe’s essay, I can see the question of marriage, female image, and sexuality being brought to the forefront of many persons’ minds. Anna Beth demonstrates this new insurgence of strong, smart women who have began to show themselves in our society. To Mr. Mist’s journal, his connection to Defoe (it seems all literary Londoners are linked in some way!), and his emotions toward government, which many seem to be questioning at this point.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">I have witnessed such an advancement of our country in only a few short months! We are expanding, traveling, exploring, colonizing, creating, and revolutionizing! England is going through some major changes and I cannot wait to see what happens next.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Unfortunately, this will be my last time writing to you dear friend. I have just received great news. I am soon to be a grandfather! I plan to spend the rest of my short days focusing on family and thanking God for the beauty of life.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">I will return to Maria’s grave soon to tell her the good news and I plan to leave you with her, so she can read over and over about my adventures in London and her amazing family that loves her.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Goodbye my dear, dear friend.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">I couldn’t have made it without you.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Your Dear friend, <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Zachariah Nickel <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">July 23, 1727

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">Works Cited <span style="background-color: #ffffff; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Avery, Emmett L <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">. "Season of 1726-1727." //The London Stage//. Vol. 2. Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois Univ. Pr., 1968. 879-951. Print.

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Chapman, Paul. “ Mist, Nathaniel ( //d.// 1737) .” Paul Chapman//Oxford Dictionary of National Biography//. Ed. H. C. G. Matthew and Brian Harrison. Oxford: OUP, 2004. Online ed. Ed. Lawrence Goldman. Jan. 2008. 12 Dec. 2013 <http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/18822>.

<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Defoe, Daniel. __Conjugal lewdness: or, matrimonial whoredom.__ London, MDCCXXVII. [1727]. __Eighteenth Century Collections Online__. Gale. University of Maryland College Park. 10 Dec. 2013 <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 1.5;"><http://find.galegroup.com.proxy-um.researchport.umd.edu/ecco/infomark.do?&source=gale&prodId=ECCO&userGroupName=umd_um&tabID=T001&docId=CW117689771&type=multipage&contentSet=ECCOArticles&version=1.0&docLevel=FASCIMILE>.

<span style="background-color: #ffffff; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Probyn, Clive. “ Swift, Jonathan (1667–1745) .” Clive Probyn//Oxford Dictionary of National Biography//. Online ed. Ed. Lawrence Goldman. Oxford: OUP,. 12 Dec. 2013 <http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/26833>.