"I wonder what it all means," said Prudence ruefully.
"Means!" repeated my Father, with Contempt.
"It means that we should watch," said Mr. Fenwick, mildly, "since our Lord will come at an Hour we know not of. Many poor People in Shoreditch came to me in great Alarm, to ask me if I thought the End of the World was coming. I told them I knew no more then they did, for that of that Hour knoweth no Man; no, not the Angels in Heaven, but only the Father; but that what our Saviour had said to his own Disciples, he had said unto all—'Watch!'"
And he went on to speak of the Desirableness and Duty of a continual State of Preparedness for whatever might happen to us from within or without, and the Confidence with which Believers might repose on the Care of their heavenly Father, with such Feeling and Power, that all of us went to Bed that Night in a State of chastened Composure, widely apart from ungodly Indifference or slavish Fear. There was more Solemnity and Affection than usual in our Parting for the Night; since we knew not but we might be swallowed up quick like Dathan and Abiram ere Morning Light, though we humbly hoped, in that Case, to reopen our Eyes in a better World.
This being our State of Mind, it was with Disgust that I learnt on the following Day, that the reckless Men of Fashion and Quality who had supped Overnight at Bedford House, had gone about the Town on their Way Home, betwixt four and five o'Clock in the Morning, knocking at Doors and mischievously frightening timid harmless People, by bawling out, "Past four o'Clock, and a dreadful Earthquake!" "The Fool hath said in his Heart, There is no God!"
During the Remainder of this Month we went on quietly enough, seeing few Persons except in the Way of Business, which, by Reason of the Severity of the Season, was much slacker than in fine Weather. My Father progressed so slowly that we had our private Doubts whether he were not invalided for Life. However, from being one of the most impatient, he had now become the most patient of Men; so that 'twas quite a Pleasure to nurse him. His gay Companions having altogether forsook him in his Illness, he was now grown totally indifferent to them, and if one or other of them dropped in on him, he treated them with so much sardonic Irony that they were unlikely to intrude very soon on him again. He missed 'em very little, having now taken a great Fancy to reading, and to the Company of my Mother, both of which were very safe and inexpensive Luxuries. He had grown singularly fond of Mr. Fenwick and of Dr. Elwes, the latter of whom frequently honoured us by dropping in to play a Rubber—they were Men of two different Worlds, but yet neither of them so unacquainted with the World that was characteristically the other's, as to be wholly unable to make Allowances:—one brought my Father worldly Wisdom and Wit, the other heavenly Wisdom and innocent Pleasantry; one supplied him with humorous Books, the other, with profitable Reading; so that, between 'em both, he fared not badly. He was now getting through the History of Don Quixote de la Mancha, which he read Snatches of with infinite Gusto to my Mother; and was continually quoting the Proverbs of Sancho Panza. Thus we went peacefully on, and were losing all Fear or even Memory of the Earthquake; when, on the very same Day of the very next Month, which is to say, February 1750, we were affrighted out of our Senses by a worse Shock and abundantly more terrifical, between Five and Six o'Clock in the Morning. Oh! how Prue and I shrieked out, and rushed down, half dressed, to my Father and Mother. They were sitting up in Bed, having been woke out of Sleep by a loud, rumbling Noise, accompanied by thick, low Flashes of Lightning. The House was still rocking and the Ground heaving all about us, Bells ringing, Clocks striking, Glass and China jingling, and Furniture shifting from one Place to another. My Father was this Time seriously frightened, and cried, "Come to my Arms, my Children, and let us die together—we heeded not the first Warning. 'Tis as well to meet our Fate here, all together, as anywhere else, since whither could we flee from Danger? even if I were an able-bodied Man, which I am not. Good Lord, deliver us. Because there is none other that can help us, but only thou, O Lord!"
So I remained folded in his Arms, and Prue in my Mother's, while we heard Persons in wild Affright loudly shrieking in the open Air. I have often thought since, that had Death indeed come upon us at that Moment, it would have been attended with much Mitigation of its Bitterness.
By-and-by, the Vibration having ceased, we slowly withdrew from one another's Arms, with deep-drawn Breaths; and set about dressing and resuming the Occupations of the Day in strange Discomfort and Sadness. I have since read, in Books of Travellers, that in Countries where Earthquakes are prevalent, the Natives are in many Instances far more consternated by them than Strangers, who being unaccustomed to them do not in one View concentrate all their disastrous Consequences. This I can well believe; for certainly all London was infinitely more appalled by this second Shock than by the first. How can I convey any Figure of the Impressions of Fear and Superstition? how describe the alarmed Consciences of Sinners, the Perturbation of grave Men, the Distress of tender Mothers, the Cries of affrighted Children at a Danger so novel and Stupendous? To increase the general Panic, while godly Preachers like Bishop Sherlock and Bishop Secker were endeavouring to improve the Judgment to Purposes of Penitence and Piety among the upper Ranks, and good Ministers like Mr. Fenwick were calling on the lower Orders to repent and be saved, a fanatic Itinerant began preaching in the Streets, and boldly prophesying another Shock on the same Day of April, which would swallow up all London. The Impression produced by this Prediction was such as that Churches now filled to overflowing, Public-Houses were deserted, good Books were read, Alms liberally bestowed on the Poor, and the Sick and them that lay in Prison visited. O that such Deeds of Humanity had sprung from some better Principle than selfish Fear! "Ah," says one poor Man lying in Newgate, "I expect that when the next Earthquake occurs, my Chains, like those of St. Paul, will fall off." "Let us eat and drink," cries another tipsily, "for To-morrow we die!"—"I can't help fearing this next Shock that is to happen in April," says a poor Wretch in the Hospital that is sure not to live out the Week. "Ah," says a meek Patient in the next Bed, placidly smiling, "I shall be out of Harm's Way before that comes!"
Others combated their Neighbours' Fears with Reason and Ridicule; others drowned Thought altogether in additional Excess of Riot. I understood from Gatty that many smart Things were said about the Earthquake in the upper Circles; and every fresh Instance of a fine Lady caring for her Soul and going to Prayers elicited Fits of modish Laughter. And yet, who deserved the Judgment of Heaven to fall upon them, if the Rich did not? whose Dissoluteness and Disregard of Decency and Order had now come to that Pass as quite to paravaunt over the Vices and Crimes of the common Orders. God's sacred Name habitually blasphemed, Christ and the Holy Spirit ignored, the Devil disbelieved, Chastity laughed at, Ribaldry approved, Drunkenness considered Good-Breeding, Servants treated as if not of the same Flesh and Blood with themselves, Sabbaths desecrated, Gambling carried to an incredible Extent, the Hanging of poor Wretches at Tyburn counted a Spectacle worthy to recreate Noblemen, public Honour a mere Name, Patriotism the Synonyme for revolutionary Principle, no Truth, nor Honour, nor Justice, in Court nor in public Offices ... who, then, had Reason to dread the just Judgments of God?