“Where there are many women, there are many witches” (Malleus Maleficarum, 1486)

My Lords and Gentlemen,

I have of late been in downcast mood.

I was minded to accompany my Lord Godolphin to the matches at Newmarket.  No sooner than my bags were packed and loaded on the stage than his Man deliver’d to me a note written in his Lordship’s own hand. In it his Lordship had written that while my company would in all other circumstances be most welcome, the recent declaration of His Majesty had meant that he could not accommodate me in his party. Due to the Foul Pestilence that is abroad his Majesty has decreed that no more than six gentlemen may commingle together whether outdoors or indoors. His Majesty’s Physicks have counselled that the inhalation of miasmas may be avoided and the Pestilence averted only if assemblies be limited in their number to but half a dozen souls. So, Lord Godolphin most sincerely regretted that because I was but the seventh of the party needs must I make my own arrangements. Lacking an abode or other lodgings in Newmarket, therefore, I have stayed in London but I became afflicted with a most vexatious cough.

Fearing that I had been stricken with the Foul Pestilence, Monday morning I betook myself to Sir Hans Sloane for his counsel. Looking at my pallor and having examined my stool, the good Doctor confirmed that I was not suffering from the Pestilence but only a surfeit of Phlegm. He prescribed that I should smoke three pipes a day and drink a pint of claret when breaking my fast. Dr Sloane is a most excellent physician and this remedy has had a most beneficial effect. Indeed, so beneficial has it been that yesterday I able to make a visit to Button’s coffee house.

But on arrival at Button’s I was met at the door by a surly fellow. He barred my way and announced that His Majesty’s Rule of the Half Dozen applies to all taverns and coffee houses. He declared that since all tables were already taken by six gentlemen each in a Bubble of Companionability I could not enter.  I found that same circumstance prevailed at Will’s.

So, I found myself confined to my rooms deprived of the fellowship of my friends with only Abigail, my pipe and my pen for company.  This solitude has enabled me to make plans for the commencement of my Treatise but while I was sharpening my quill my good friend Mr Mordecai Benjamin has this instant shouted to my window. He has announced that a mob of the Proponents of Sleeplessness have assembled in Whitehall and are calling for My Lady Rowling to be burnt as a witch. On asking why such a fragrant and God fearing lady should be so ill-used, good Mordecai informed me that it is said that she fell asleep during a sermon of the Revd W_____ and had been heard to mumble in her slumber that God had created men and women.  This has agitated the Mob who thus call for the good Lady to be burn’t. Wherefore I must delay my Treatise and shall presently hasten to Whitehall. In my next letter I shall report whether the Mob will have its way or my Lady shall have been deliver’d to safety.

I remain your humble and obedient servant,

The Somnambulist