During the whole of the day， and also during the leisure of Sunday， the fermentation increases； on Monday the 27th， another day of idleness and drunkenness， the bands begin to move. Certain witnesses encounter one of these in the Rue Saint-Sévérin， "armed with clubs，" and so numerous as to bar the passage. "Shops and doors are closed on all sides， and the people cry out， 'There's the revolt！'" The seditious crowd belch out curses and invectives against the clergy， "and， catching sight of an abbé， shout 'Priest！'" Another band parades an effigy of Réveillon decorated with the ribbon of the order of St. Michael， which undergoes the parody of a sentence and is burnt on the Place de Grève， after which they threaten his house. Driven back by the guard， they invade that of a manufacturer of saltpeter， who is his friend， and burn and smash his effects and furniture.[14] It is only towards midnight that the crowd is dispersed and the insurrection is supposed to have ended. On the following day it begins again with greater violence；for， besides the ordinary stimulants of misery[15] and the craving for license， they have a new stimulant in the idea of a cause to defend， the conviction that they are fighting "for the Third-Estate." In a cause like this each one should help himself； and all should help each other. "We should be lost，" one of them exclaimed， "if we did not sustain each other." Strong in this belief， they sent deputations three times into the Faubourg Saint-Marceau to obtain recruits， and on their way， with uplifted clubs they enrol， willingly or unwillingly， all they encounter. Others， at the gate of Saint-Antoine， arrest people who are returning from the races， demanding of them if they are for the nobles or for the Third-Estate， and force women to descend from their vehicles and to cry "Vive le Tiers-Etat "[16]. Meanwhile the crowd has increased before Réveillon's dwelling； the thirty men on guard are unable to resist； the house is invaded and sacked from top to bottom； the furniture， provisions， clothing， registers， wagons， even the poultry in the back-yard， all is cast into blazing bonfires lighted in three different places； five hundred louis d'or， the ready money， and the silver plate are stolen. Several roam through the cellars， drink liquor or varnish at haphazard until they fall down dead drunk or expire in convulsions. Against this howling horde， a corps of the watch， mounted and on foot， is seen approaching；[17] also a hundred cavalry of the "Royal Croats，" the French Guards， and later on the Swiss Guards. "Tiles and chimneys are rained down on the soldiers，"who fire back four files at a time. The rioters， drunk with brandy and rage， defend themselves desperately for several hours； more than two hundred are killed， and nearly three hundred are wounded； they are only put down by cannon， while the mob keeps active until far into the night. - Towards eight in the evening， in the rue Vieille-du-Temple， the Paris Guard continue to make charges in order to protect the doors which the miscreants try to force. Two doors are forced at half-past eleven o'clock in the Rue Saintonge and in the Rue de Bretagne， that of a pork-dealer and that of a baker.
Even to this last wave of the outbreak which is subsiding we can distinguish the elements which have produced the insurrection， and which are about to produce the Revolution. -- Starvation is one of these： in the Rue de Bretagne the band robbing the baker's shop carries bread off to the women staying at the corner of the Rue Saintonge. -- Brigandage is another： in the middle of the night M.
du Chatelet's spies， gliding alongside of a ditch， "see a group of ruffians" assembled beyond the Barrière du Tr？ne， their leader， mounted on a little knoll， urging them to begin again； and the following days， on the highways， vagabonds are saying to each other， "We can do no more at Paris， because they are too sharp on the look-out； let us go to Lyons！" There are， finally， the patriots： on the evening of the insurrection， between the Pont-au-Change and the Pont-Marie， the half-naked ragamuffins， besmeared with dirt， bearing along their hand-barrows， are fully alive to their cause； they beg alms in a loud tone of voice， and stretch out their hats to the passers， saying， "Take pity on this poor Third-Estate！" -- The starving， the ruffians， and the patriots， all form one body， and henceforth misery， crime， and public spirit unite to provide an ever-ready insurrection for the agitators who desire to raise one.
IV. The Palais-Royal.