The Life Of Jonathon Swift Essay, Research Paper The Life of Jonathon Swift According to Stella Losing you parents is tough at any age, but it is especially tough when you are only eight years old. That is what happened to me, Esther Johnson, they died in 1669 leaving me without a family. However, luckily for me, my father’s close friend Sir William Temple practically adopted me.
The Life Of Jonathon Swift Essay, Research Paper
The Life of Jonathon Swift According to Stella
Losing you parents is tough at any age, but it is especially tough when you are only eight years old. That is what happened to me, Esther Johnson, they died in 1669 leaving me without a family. However, luckily for me, my father’s close friend Sir William Temple practically adopted me. I soon went to live in his surrey mansion at Moor Park. It was there that I met Jonathon. Jonathon also lived a Moor Park; he studied under Sir William Temple, trying to learn the tools of his trade. Together, Sir William, Jonathon and I grew very close.
Just as everything in my life seemed to be straightening itself out, everything began to fall apart again. Sir William died suddenly in 1669, leaving me once again almost without a family. Jonathon was all I had left in the world. During this time, the two of us grew very close. He called me Stella, oh how I loved that name. We shared everything with one another. We had a lot in common, for Jonathon was also raised without a father. His died two months before he was born. He talked of his early childhood in Dublin, Ireland, and then of how he moved to London, England. Jonathon used to write me the most beautiful letters; I still have them all. He used to write about his job as Chief Journalist and Principal Pamphleteer for Robert Harley, the Earl of Oxford. He would tell me how even though he enjoyed his job, what he really desired was more political power. I told him that his day would come. I knew he would soon get the power and fame that he deserved.
Right as everything was looking up for Jonathon and his political power in London was beginning to rise everything fell apart yet again. With the death of Queen Anne on August 1, 1714, Jonathon’s political power in England died also. He was appointed to the Deanery of St. Patrick’s in Dublin. He was to leave London in June, I did not know what to do, I was torn. Should I stay in London with everything I knew, or should I follow my heart and the man I loved to Ireland? How does one make such a decision? I soon realized that I could not be without Jonathon, I packed my bags and set out for the strange land.
That first year in Ireland was a tough one, as any first year in a new place is. There was a lot of adjusting to do new friends to be made; an all around change of life was to occur. Jonathon was often busy with his new job, I rarely got to see him anymore. When we did get to spend time together, we never really enjoyed ourselves. For instance, one time we were out on our way to the theatre, when we had to pass through the streets of downtown Dublin. I had never seen such poverty, such cold and hunger-stricken faces. It frightened me. I did not know the people could be suffering like that, how was I supposed to got to the theatre after having seen that? Jonathon was angry with me after I begged him to return me home at once, but I simply felt ill after seeing all that misfortune and pain.
Jonathon had once told me a story about William Wood, an English manufacturer who had somehow managed to obtain a patent to mint Irish copper money. Jonathon told me of the problems he thought this would bring to the Irish society, but I simply had no idea. He told me how this William Wood and the rest of the English businessmen were going to destroy Ireland. The new copper money drove almost all of the real gold and silver from the Kingdom. When he told me all of this, I had no idea of the true effects it would have on the Irish people. That one day walking through the streets changed my views on society forever.
After the newness of Dublin began to wear off, Jonathon and I settled into our happy lives again. We once again became close confidantes, sharing everything. He told me of how he longed to leave Ireland and return to the power and wealth of England, he told me of the horrors of the Irish cities. We grew closer with each passing day.
However, one day I fell ill. Jonathon came to my assistance to nurse me back to health. Day after day came and went, and I was simply not getting any better. The doctors finally told me I was not going to get any better. Jonathon was there for me every step of the way he stayed by my side as I continued with my illness. Jonathon and I were as close as we had ever been. I begged him to marry me, I could see no better way to end such a loving relationship, but he refused. I begged and I begged, but he would not give in. I simply could not understand why we could not seal our love in God’s eyes and finish out my life in total happiness. Yet, he remained stubborn.
I never understood him. Why could he not just marry me? Why could he not just let me be happy? Did I not change my entire life and way of being just to be with him in Ireland? The least he could have done was marry me. Why did he have to call me Stella? What an ugly name, who wants to be called Stella anyway? I always hated that name. Why did he have to be so stubborn? Here I am lying on my deathbed, and he still refused to grant me my last wish. Why? As my days grew fewer, my frustration with Jonathon grew. My last few days were not only immensely painful physically, but also mentally, as I had to deal with the betrayal of my one and only true love. On January 28, 1728, my long and painful fight came to an end, as I was finally able to rest in peace.
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