On June 5th, the Vendée rebels were closing in on Le Mans, just a day's journey away. It was on this fateful afternoon that Fouché appeared before Napoleon.
"General Bonaparte, I need the cooperation of your army," Fouché stated.
"Tell me, how can I assist you?" Napoleon responded promptly.
Fouché retrieved a map of Le Mans from his coat and spread it on the table.
"General Bonaparte, do you see these residences marked with red crosses?" Fouché inquired.
"Are these the houses of the rebels?" Napoleon asked.
"Yes," Fouché confirmed, "they are conspiring to launch a rebellion, joining forces with the Vendée insurgents."
"Do you want me to arrest them?" Napoleon asked.
"No, you don't need to worry about arrests," Fouché revealed a predatory smile, "You and your officers are not locals, and apprehending suspects might not be your strong suit. Your task is to secure these critical locations and enforce a strict curfew in the city. You can issue orders that anyone seen on the streets after dark, except our own people, can be shot. Le Mans is an ideal place; it has intact city walls. As long as you watch over these key areas, none of these traitors can escape!"
Napoleon lowered his head and studied the map carefully before saying, "Where do you anticipate the fiercest resistance from the rebels?"
"It would be here," Fouché pointed out. "I know they've hidden a cache of weapons and gathered around a hundred men."
"The streets in that area are narrow and winding. Engaging there would result in unnecessary losses," Napoleon supported his chin with his hand, gazing at the map. "I suggest you strike here first. They will certainly be alerted, and they'll have two choices. One is to reinforce this area."
Napoleon pointed at a spot on the map, "I'll station a company and two cannons here. If they come to support, they'll have to pass through this spot, and that's where we'll eliminate them. Alternatively, they might choose to flee, and they'd go this way."
Napoleon's finger traced the streets on the map, then stopped at a bend in the road, "Here. I'll station two more cannons and twenty cavalry here. As they turn the corner and move forward, they'll suddenly be hit from behind... heh heh."
"Excellent, General Bonaparte, that's the plan!" Fouché agreed.
After nightfall, Le Mans quickly fell into silence. Due to the imminent war, the city had already imposed a curfew, and people were forbidden from being outdoors after dark.
Around 1 o'clock, the sound of footsteps and the creaking wheels of wagons suddenly echoed through the streets. Many residents by the street were awakened by these noises and peered outside, witnessing soldiers carrying torches running along the roads.
"What's happening?" they wondered, calling their families and preparing for the worst.
Mayor Constantine de Lorne, too, was startled by the noises outside and had just sat up in bed. A commotion ensued outside the front door, followed by an urgent knock on his bedroom door.
"Sir, it's Commissioner Fouché. He's with a detachment of soldiers and requests your presence to lead the operation against the rebellious insurgents."
Lorne was taken aback. He had sympathies leaning toward the Girondists. The recent events in Paris had left him anxious, and now this sudden crisis left him bewildered about how to respond.
"Sir, Commissioner Fouché is waiting downstairs," the servant repeated when the master didn't respond.
"Ah, tell him I'll be down shortly. Ask him to wait," Lorne regained his senses and hastily replied.
The servant left, and Lorne got out of bed. His wife quickly helped him dress.
"Constantine, will everything be alright?" his wife asked.
"Julie, don't worry; everything will be fine," Lorne reassured her, giving her a kiss on the forehead. He then opened the door and descended the stairs.
In the living room, he saw Fouché and a detachment of soldiers waiting.
"Mr. Mayor, I apologize for the inconvenience at this hour," Fouché said, though his tone and expression did not reflect any remorse.
"It's an urgent situation; some traitors are planning a rebellion, and we must take action to stop them. Now, please come with me to the town hall to oversee the situation."
"Well, what about...?" Lorne began to ask.
"Mr. Mayor, I will leave a detachment of soldiers to protect your family. Now, please, come with me. Our time is precious," Fouché urged.
The two men left the house. Just as they stepped outside, there was a gunshot from the direction of the city. A volley of gunshots followed.
Lorne was startled, but Fouché seemed completely unperturbed. He opened the carriage door with a smile and said, "Mr. Mayor, please get in. Don't worry; my coachman is very experienced, and this carriage won't tip over."
When they arrived at the town hall, gunfire had erupted all around. Looking out of the town hall's second-floor window, they could see flames rising in the west.
"Is that...?" Lorne pointed to the west.
"Yes, that's some of the wealthiest folks in the city. The people of France granted them a good life, but they still weren't satisfied and even dreamed of keeping the French people under their feet. So, they conspired with the royalists. It's quite laughable, wouldn't you say, Mr. Mayor? The rich are always unreliable."
"Mr. Commissioner, do you have evidence?" Lorne inquired.
"We have some evidence, though it's not enough to build a complete case, it's sufficient to raise suspicions. We will have more evidence soon. And in times like these..." Fouché smiled, "in times like these, do we really need evidence? For the sake of protecting the interests of the people of France, isn't suspicion enough?"
"But aren't those people also part of the people of France?" Lorne mustered his courage to ask.
"Are they the people of France?" Fouché smiled and shook his head slowly. "Mr. Mayor, you have a misunderstanding of the term 'the people.' The revolution is for the people, and the people should not be understood as a class that, due to its wealth, possesses privileges and enjoys all the pleasures of life and all the social wealth. The people are the sum of all the citizens of France, but first and foremost, they defend our country's borders with their lives and sustain the toiling masses of society with their labor. Our revolution, if it only cares about the wealth of a few hundreds while leaving two and a half million in poverty, would be a political and moral atrocity – the greatest in the world! We must correct this atrocity and use revolutionary means when necessary. Do you understand? We are now correcting this atrocity with our own means."
Seemingly in line with Fouché's rhetoric, a series of cannon shots suddenly sounded from outside.
"What's happening? Do we need artillery for the arrests?" Lorne's face turned as pale as a corpse.
"Don't you understand yet? This isn't about arrests; it's a war, a war between one class and another!" Fouché revealed a chilling smile. "In essence, the wealthy will never become true revolutionaries or true republicans. The foundation of the republic is the equality of citizens, and those wealthy individuals will always consider themselves a special class. No citizen should possess more wealth than their survival requires. If someone with such wealth were a true republican, they would donate it to the state to fight the enemies of the people."
At this point, Fouché paused and then said to Lorne, "Mr. Mayor, do you understand now? You must know that the rich are unreliable; many of them, in pursuit of excessive wealth, are in contact with our enemies. The wealthy also tend to stick together, with numerous connections among them. That includes connections with you, Mr. Mayor. But now, you must choose to stand with us or with them."
At this moment, several cannon shots were heard from outside, but the sounds seemed to come from a different direction.
"The rebellion has been crushed!" Fouché said with a smile. "I'll personally interrogate those traitors shortly. These shameless individuals often indulge in idle talk – you must make your choice as soon as possible."
"I..." Lorne swayed and seemed on the verge of collapsing. He reached out to support himself against a nearby table to prevent himself from falling. His face alternated between pale and red, but at last, he seemed to have made a firm decision. He lifted his head and said to Fouché, "I am loyal to the republican system."
"Very well, I'm glad to see you make the right choice," Fouché said with a gentle smile.
The next morning, the town hall's bell rang, summoning the citizens who had endured a night of terror. Fouché delivered an enthusiastic speech, and then in the town square, erected a contraption improved by His Majesty the King. One by one, he severed over a hundred noble heads, reuniting many families.
Inspired by Fouché's speech and led by Mayor Lorne, a group of wealthy individuals loyal to the republic donated their excess wealth and aided Fouché in uncovering more hidden riches belonging to the insurgents. Using a fraction of these riches, Fouché rapidly organized a militia in Le Mans, with a force of up to five thousand men.