_From my own Apartment, March 22._
My other correspondents will excuse me if I give the precedency to a
lady, whose letter, amongst many more, is just come to hand.
"DEAR ISAAC,
"I burn with impatience to know what and who you are. The curiosity of my
whole sex is fallen upon me, and has kept me waking these three nights. I
have dreamed often of you within this fortnight, and every time you
appeared in a different form. As you value my repose, tell me in which of
them I am to be
"Your admirer,
"SYLVIA."
It is natural for a man who receives a favour of this kind from an
unknown fair, to frame immediately some idea of her person, which being
suited to the opinion we have of our own merit, is commonly as beautiful
and perfect as the most lavish imagination can furnish out. Strongly
possessed with these notions, I have read over Sylvia's billet; and
notwithstanding the reserve I have had upon this matter, am resolved to
go a much greater length, than I yet ever did, in making my self known to
the world, and, in particular, to my charming correspondent. In order to
it I must premise, that the person produced as mine in the play-house
last winter, did in nowise appertain to me. It was such a one however as
agreed well with the impression my writings had made, and served the
purpose I intended it for; which was to continue the awe and reverence
due to the character I was vested with, and, at the same time, to let my
enemies see how much I was the delight and favourite of this town. This
innocent imposture, which I have all along taken care to carry on, as
it then was of some use, has since been of singular service to me, and by
being mentioned in one of my papers, effectually recovered my egoity out
of the hands of some gentlemen who endeavoured to wrest it from me. This
is saying, in short, what I am not: what I am, and have been for many
years, is next to be explained. Here it will not be improper to remind
Sylvia, that there was formerly such a philosopher as Pythagoras, who,
amongst other doctrines, taught the transmigration of souls, which, if
she sincerely believes, she will not be much startled at the following
relation.
I will not trouble her, nor my other readers, with the particulars of all
the lives I have successively passed through since my first entrance into
mortal being, which is now many centuries ago. It is enough that I have
in every one of them opposed myself with the utmost resolution to the
follies and vices of the several ages I have been acquainted with, that I
have often rallied the world into good manners, and kept the greatest
princes in awe of my satire. There is one circumstance which I shall not
omit, though it may seem to reflect on my character, I mean that infinite
love of change which has ever appeared in the disposal of my existence.
Since the days of the Emperor Trajan, I have not been confined to the
same person for twenty years together; but have passed from one abode to
another, much quicker than the Pythagorean system generally allows. By
this means, I have seldom had a body to myself, but have lodged up and
down wherever I found a genius suitable to my own. In this manner I
continued, some time with the top wit of France, at another with that of
Italy, who had a statue erected to his memory in Rome. Towards the end of
the 17th century, I set out for England; but the gentleman I came over in
dying as soon as he got to shore, I was obliged to look out again for a
new habitation. It was not long before I met with one to my mind, for
having mixed myself invisibly with the _literati_ of this kingdom, I
found it was unanimously agreed amongst them, That nobody was endowed
with greater talents than Hiereus;[4] or, consequently, would be better
pleased with my company. I slipped down his throat one night as he was
fast asleep, and the next morning, as soon as he awaked, he fell to
writing a treatise that was received with great applause, though he had
the modesty not to set his name to that nor to any other of our
productions. Some time after, he published a paper of predictions,
which were translated into several languages, and alarmed some of the
greatest princes in Europe. To these he prefixed the name of Isaac
Bickerstaff, Esq; which I have been extremely fond of ever since, and
have taken care that most of the writings I have been concerned in should
be distinguished by it; though I must observe, that there have been many
counterfeits imposed upon the public by this means. This extraordinary
man being called out of the kingdom by affairs of his own, I resolved,
however, to continue somewhat longer in a country where my works had
been so well received, and accordingly bestowed myself with Hilario.[5]
His natural wit, his lively turn of humour, and great penetration into
human nature, easily determined me to this choice, the effects of which
were soon after produced in this paper, called "The Tatler." I know not
how it happened, but in less than two years' time Hilario grew weary of
my company, and gave me warning to be gone. In the height of my
resentment, I cast my eyes on a young fellow,[6] of no extraordinary
qualifications, whom, for that very reason, I had the more pride in
taking under my direction, and enabling him, by some means or other, to
carry on the work I was before engaged in. Lest he should grow too vain
upon this encouragement, I to this day keep him under due mortification.
I seldom reside with him when any of his friends are at leisure to
receive me, by whose hands, however, he is duly supplied. As I have
passed through many scenes of life, and a long series of years, I choose
to be considered in the character of an old fellow, and take care that
those under my influence should speak consonantly to it. This account, I
presume, will give no small consolation to Sylvia, who may rest assured,
that Isaac Bickerstaff is to be seen in more forms than she dreamt of;
out of which variety she may choose what is most agreeable to her fancy.
On Tuesdays, he is sometimes a black, proper, young gentleman, with a
mole on his left cheek. On Thursdays, a decent well-looking man, of a
middle stature, long flaxen hair, and a florid complexion. On Saturdays,
he is somewhat of the shortest, and may be known from others of that size
by talking in a low voice, and passing through the streets without much
precipitation.
[Footnote 1: No. 28 in the reprint of "The Tatler," vol. v. [T.S.]]
[Footnote 2: _Metamorphoses_, xv. 158-161.
"Nor dies the spirit, but new life repeats
In other forms, and only changes seats.
Ev'n I, who these mysterious truths declare,
Was once Euphorbus in the Trojan war."
J. DRYDEN.
[T.S.]]
[Footnote 3: I.e. 1710-11. [T.S.]]
[Footnote 4: Swift. [T.S.]]
[Footnote 5: Steele. [T.S.]]
[Footnote 6: Harrison. [T.S.]]
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