elled. The chariots of Sir George Savile and Charles
Turner, two leading advocates for the late toleration, though in
Opposition, were demolished; and the Duke of Richmond and Burke were
denounced to the mob as proper objects for sacrifice. Lord Mahon
laboured to pacify the tempest, and towards eight and nine, prevailed
on so many to disperse, that the Lords rose and departed in quiet; but
every avenue to the other House was besieged and blockaded, and for four
hours they kept their doors locked, though some of the warmest members
proposed to sally out, sword in hand, and cut their way. Lord North and
that House behaved with great firmness, and would not submit to give any
other satisfaction to the rioters, than to consent to take the Popish
laws into consideration on the following Tuesday; and, calling the
Justices of the Peace, empowered them to call out the whole force of the
country to quell the riot.

The magistrates soon brought the Horse and Foot Guards, and the pious
ragamuffins soon fled; so little enthusiasm fortunately had inspired
them; at least all their religion consisted in outrage and plunder; for
the Duke of Northumberland, General Grant, Mr. Mackinsy, and others, had
their pockets picked of their watches and snuff-boxes. Happily, not a
single life was lost.

This tumult, which was over between nine and ten at night, had scarce
ceased before it broke out in two other quarters. Old Haslang's[1]
Chapel was broken open and plundered; and, as he is a Prince of
Smugglers as well as Bavarian Minister, great quantities of run tea and
contraband goods were found in his house. This one cannot lament; and
still less, as the old wretch has for these forty years usurped a hired
house, and, though the proprietor for many years has offered to remit
his arrears of rent, he will neither quit the house nor pay for it.

[Footnote 1: Count Haslang was the Bavarian Minister.]

Monsieur Cordon, the Sardinian Minister, suffered still more. The mob
forced his chapel, stole two silver lamps, demolished everything else,
threw the benches into the street, set them on fire, carried the brands
into the chapel, and set fire to that; and, when the engines came, would
not suffer them to play till the Guards arrived, and saved the house and
probably all that part of the town. Poor Madame Cordon was confined by
illness. My cousin, Thomas Walpole, who lives in Lincoln's Inn Fields,
went to her rescue, and dragged her, for she could s