Ferdinand was then sent for, and his mother entreated him to prevent the riot by sending his own people to calm the excitement of the populace, and commanding the instigator of the disturbance to return to Madrid. But hardly were these requests complied with when fresh tumult was heard. It seemed that Manuel Godoy was preparing to go to rest on the night of March 17, when he heard the noise of the mob at his house. He caught up a cloak, filled his pockets with gold, armed himself with pistols, and strove to save himself by a secret passage which led into the house of the widowed Duchess of Osuna. But the key was evidently not there, so the wretched man lay in his hiding-place like a mouse in a trap for thirty-six hours, suffering all the pains of fatigue and hunger and thirst, and fearing every minute to be assassinated. At last he returned into his own salon. A sentinel saw him, and he was seized by those in possession of his house. Of course he might have made use of his firearms, but, worn out with the sufferings of body and mind during the last thirty-six hours, he gave himself up to his persecutors. Like wolves after their prey, the people hounded the wretched man, and they tried to stop the Guard acting in his defence by putting poles under the horses’ bellies to prevent their advance. At last, however, the fugitive was bravely hoisted on to the saddle of the horse of one of the Guard, and he was taken off at a quick trot from the scene of his sufferings. When the news reached Madrid of the imprisonment of the Prince de la Paz on March 19, the mob flocked to the Plazuela del Almirante, where his house adjoined that of the Dukes of Alba. There the scene of Aranjuez was repeated: the furniture and treasures were cast out of the windows, and were for the most part devoured by the flames of the fire which was lighted close to the door. Then, drunk with vengeance, the populace proceeded with burning torches to the houses of the Prince’s relatives, and sacked that of his mother, his brother Don Diego, the Marquis of Branciforte, his brother-in-law, and those of the ex-Ministers Alvarez y Soler, of Don Manuel Sixto Espinosa, and Amoros. The riding-school of the fallen favourite was converted into an altar to St. Joseph. It is from the pen of Maria Luisa that we have the most graphic description of the events, for in a letter to her daughter she writes thus:[2] [2] “History of Ferdinand VII.,” 1843, and the correspondence of Napoleon with the Bourbon family, published in the _Moniteur_ in 1808. “MY BELOVED DAUGHTER, “Tell the Grand Duke of Berg what is the situation of the King, myself, and the poor Prince de la Paz.