"Triple nom de Dieu！" exclaims one of them， "I didn't come a hundred and eighty leagues to restrain myself from sticking a hundred and eighty heads on the end of my pike！"[80] Accordingly， they form in themselves a special， permanent， resident body， allowing no one to divert them from their adopted occupation. "They turn a deaf ear to the excitements of spurious patriotism"；[81] they are not going to be sent off to the frontier. Their post is at the capital； they have sworn "to defend liberty"； neither before nor after September make them deviate from this end. When， after having drawn money on every treasury and under every pretext， they at last consent to leave Paris， it is only on the condition that they return to Marseilles. Their operations are limited to the interior of France， and only against political adversaries. But their zeal in this field is only the greater； it is their band which， first of all， takes the twenty-four priests from the town hall， and， on the way， begins the massacre with their own hands.[82]
Then there are the "enragés" of the Paris proletariat， a few of them clerks or shopkeepers， most of them artisans of all the trades；locksmiths， masons， butchers， wheelwrights， tailors， shoemakers， waggoners， especially dockers working in the harbor， market-porters， and， above all， journeymen and apprentices of all kinds， in short， manual workers on the bottom of the social ladder.[83] Among these we find beasts of prey， murderers by instinct， or simple robbers.[84]
Others who， like one of the disciples of Abbé Sicard， whom he loves and venerates， confess that they never stirred except under constraint.[85] Others are simple machines， who let themselves be driven： for instance the local forwarding agent， a good sort of man， but who， dragged along， plied with liquor， and then made crazy， kills twenty priests for his share， and dies at the end of the month， still drinking， unable to sleep， frothing at the mouth and trembling in every limb.[86] And finally the few， who， with good intentions， are carried away by the bloody whirlwind， and， struck by the grace of Revolution， become converted to the religion of murder. One of them a certain Grapin， deputized by his section to save two prisoners， seats himself alongside of Maillard， sits in judgment at his side during sixty-three hours， and demands a certificate from him.[87] The majority， however， entertain the same opinions as the cook， who， after taking the Bastille， finding himself on the spot and having cut off M.
de Launay's head， regards it as a "patriotic" action， and deems himself worthy of a "medal for having destroyed a monster." These people are not common criminals， but well-disposed persons living in the vicinity， who， seeing a public service established in their neighborhood，[88] issue from their homes to give a hand； their degree of probity is about the same as we find nowadays among people of the same condition in life.