The scene was awful. London was in sackcloth. Women made themselves what Horace Walpole calls “_earthquake gowns_, that is, warm gowns in which to sit out of doors all night.” Within three days, seven hundred and thirty coaches had been counted passing Hyde Park Corner filled with families removing to the country.[90] Sherlock, bishop of London, a fortnight before the expected shock,[91] had published a letter, addressed “to the clergy and people of London and Westminster, on occasion of the late earthquakes”; and sixty thousand copies had been already sold to eager purchasers. This 12mo tract of twelve pages was ably written, and was a faithful warning of the just judgments which the people and the nation might expect unless they repented of the enormous sins with which they were now disgraced. “The gospel,” says Sherlock, “had been not only rejected, but treated with malicious scorn. The press swarmed with books, some to dispute, and some to ridicule the great truths of religion, both natural and revealed. Blasphemy and horrid imprecations might be heard on every hand. Lewdness and debauchery so prevailed among the lowest classes, as to keep them idle, poor, and miserable. By lewd pictures, sold in the open day, the abominations of the public stews were exposed to view. Histories or romances of the vilest prostitutes were published. Friendly visits for conversation had degenerated into meetings for gambling; and men, who had lost all principles of religion, and were lost to all sense of morality, in time of sickness, when fears of futurity were revived, became an easy prey to popish priests, and greedily swallowed their absolution cordials, which, like other cordials, gave present ease, but wrought no cures.” Sherlock’s letter was timely, and faithful, and did him honour; but it also helped to create the excitement which gave credence to the mad soldier’s prophecy, and which led to the strange scenes witnessed during the night of April 3, and the early morn of April 4. There can be no question that, at this period, the wickedness of London and of the nation was enormous. The people were not only glutted with all the inordinate gratifications and pleasures common to the country; but they had grown delicate in vice, and had adopted all the dainties of debauchery from abroad; and it is a fact, that the very parties, who fled from London for fear of another earthquake, on returning, seemed desirous of apologizing for their cowardice by plunging into revels and riotings more dissolute than ever. Conscious of their folly, they imputed blame to Sherlock, for raising unnecessary fears, by his pastoral, excellent, and truly seasonable charge. Grub Street pamphlets, the harangues of coffee house libertines, and the craven and calumnious whispers of drawing rooms, once more filled with fugitives returned to forsaken homes, soon made his lordship the public butt of abusive ridicule.[92]