The rioters of the next day did not hesitate a moment. The order of the Directory had somewhat intimidated them. But Chabot, the deputy so celebrated for his violence at the Jacobin Club, hastened to reassure them. "To-morrow," said he, "you will be received with open arms by the National Assembly. People count on you." The Faubourg Saint-Antoine was in commotion. Condorcet said, in speaking of the anxieties expressed by the ministers: "Is it not fine to see the Executive asking legislators to provide means of action! Let them save themselves; that is their business!"
The Most Christian King is treated like the Divine Master. Pétion, mayor of Paris, is to play the rôle of Pontius Pilate. He washes his hands of all that is to happen. He orders the battalions of National Guards under arms for the following day, not in order to oppose the march of the columns of the people, but to fraternize with the petitioners, and act as escort to the insurrection. This equivocal measure, he thinks, will set him right with both the Directory and the populace. To one he says: "I am watching," and to the other, "I am with you." { 185} The rioters count on Pétion as anarchy counts on weakness. He is precisely the magistrate that suits the faubourgs when they resort to violent measures. A last conventicle was held at the house of Santerre the brewer, chief of battalion of the National Guard of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, on the night of June 19-20. It broke up at midnight. All was ready. The leaders of the insurrection repaired each to his post. They summoned their loyal adherents, and sent them about in small detachments to assemble and mass together the working classes, as soon as they should leave their houses in the morning. Santerre had declared that the National Guard could offer no opposition to the rioters. "Rest easy," said he to the conspirators; "Pétion will be there." Louis XVI. no longer feigned not to notice the danger. "Who knows," said he during the night to M. de Malesherbes, with a melancholy smile, "who knows if I shall see the sun set to-morrow?"
It is Wednesday, June 20, 1792, the anniversary of the oath of the Jeu de Paume. The signal is given. The faubourgs assemble. It is five in the morning. Santerre, on horseback, is at the Place de la Bastille, at the head of a popular staff. The army of rioters forms slowly. Some anxiety is shown at first. The departmental decree forbidding armed gatherings had been posted, and occasioned some reflection in the timid. But Santerre reassures them. He tells them that the National Guard will not be ordered to oppose their march, and that they may count on Pétion's complicity.