When morning dawned, a proclamation, forbidding the banquet, was posted on every street-corner.  The soldiers were everywhere confined to their quarters, the windows of which were stuffed with mattresses; but to residents in Paris the day seemed to pass quietly, though about noon the Place de la Madeleine was full of men surrounding the house of Odillon Barrot, the chief leader of the opposition, demanding what, under the circumstances, they had better do.  In the Place de la Concorde, troops were endeavoring to prevent the crowd from crossing the Seine and assembling in front of the Chamber of Deputies.  In order to break up the throng upon the bridge, a heavy wagon was driven over it at a rapid pace, escorted by soldiers, who slashed about them with their sheathed swords.  At the residence of M. Guizot, then both Prime Minister and Minister for Foreign Affairs, a large crowd had assembled and had broken his windows; but the rioters were dispersed the Municipal Guard and the Police.

In the afternoon, on the Place de la Concorde, a party of men and boys, apparently without leaders, contrived to break through the troops guarding the bridge, and began to ascend the steps of the Chamber of Deputies.  Being refused admission to the hall, they proceeded to break windows and do other damage.  Then a party of dragoons began to clear the bridge, but good-humoredly, and the people were retiring as fast as they might, when a detachment of the Municipal Guard arrived.  The Municipal Guard was a handsome corps of mounted police, the men being all stalwart and fine-looking.  They wore brazen helmets and horse-tails and glittering breastplates, but they were very unpopular, while the National Guards were looked on by the rioters as their supporters.  The Municipal Guards, when they came upon the bridge, began treating the crowd roughly, a good many persons were hurt, and an old woman was trodden down.  At this the crowd grew furious, stones were thrown, and the soldiers drew their swords.  Before nightfall there was riot and disorder all over Paris.  Towards dusk the rappel—­the signal for the National Guard to muster—­had been beaten in the streets, and soon many soldiers of that body might be seen, escorted by men in blouses carrying their guns, while the National Guards, unarmed, were shouting and singing.

All Tuesday, February 22, the affair was a mere riot.  But during the night the secret societies met, and decided on more formidable action.

The next morning was chilly and rainy, very dispiriting to the troops, who had bivouacked all night in the public squares, where they had been ill-provided with food and forage.  The coats and swords of the students at the Polytechnic had been removed during the night, to prevent their joining the bands who were singing the “Marseillaise” and the “Dernier Chant des Girondins” under their windows.

Meantime barricades had been raised in the thickly populated parts of Paris, and successful efforts had been made to enlist the sympathies of the soldiers and the National Guard.