The series of blows seemed to have dazed Robespierre. In protest of the Committee of Public Safety's perceived defiance of him, he decided to feign illness and stop attending their meetings. Meanwhile, his key supporter, Saint-Just, was dispatched as a northern commander due to the growing threat of an attack by the anti-French coalition forces. In the Committee of Public Safety, Robespierre's loyalists dwindled down to just Couthon. To many observers, it appeared that Robespierre was losing his grip on power.
However, those who truly understood Robespierre knew that he would not surrender easily. He was undoubtedly planning a formidable counterattack.
Robespierre wasn't actually sick, and during the day, he could be seen smiling as he moved about various impoverished neighborhoods, conversing with and inquiring about the lives of the common people. In the evening, he would return to his modest attic, write letters, and meet with people who came secretly to see him.
Normally, Fouché would have kept a close watch on Robespierre, monitoring his every move to uncover his schemes. But in this critical moment, a crisis struck Fouché's own home.
Fouché's six-year-old daughter fell seriously ill, possibly with pneumonia.
In those times, pneumonia was a deadly killer, claiming more lives than even the guillotine that Robespierre wielded.
No matter how future generations would satirize and criticize the chameleon Fouché, such as Chateaubriand describing him as a "man without tears and a heart," they still had to acknowledge that, for his wife, Fouché was a good husband, and for his children, he was a loving father.
Fouché remained faithful to his wife throughout his life, even though she was just a "poor, humble, plain, and short" commoner. After achieving a prominent position, many like him would often indulge in countless extramarital affairs, even swapping mistresses with one another, as Paul Barras did later. But Fouché, who had long held high office, had never been involved in such affairs.
Fouché also kept his children sheltered from the tumultuous politics outside, shielding them from these harsh realities. While outside, he exuded a stern and imposing presence, his face devoid of any hint of a smile. A single glance or gesture from him was enough to send shivers down the spines of countless people, leaving them sleepless as they speculated about the meaning behind his enigmatic expressions.
Yet, even in the most perilous and challenging moments, when he returned home, that perennially icy poker face melted away, and he revealed the warmest smile in the world.
He would cradle his children, his bristly face brushing against their small cheeks, making them giggle with delight. He called them "my little darlings," "my sweethearts," and indulged them in the silliest of games, thoroughly enjoying every moment. He never brought the concerns of the outside world into his home, but as soon as he stepped out the door, he transformed back into the sinister, unpredictable head of the secret police.
His daughter's illness disrupted Fouché's life, and although his reason told him he couldn't let his guard down at this crucial juncture, his emotions and knowledge reminded him that his daughter might not have much time left, and he might soon have to prepare a small coffin for her.
"Perhaps there won't be any abrupt changes," Fouché reassured himself, knowing he was deceiving himself, but for the first and only time in his life, he allowed himself this irrational behavior.
He delegated more of the responsibilities to others and found time to be by his daughter's side during her final moments. To prevent contagion, he kept his wife and other children at a distance and cared for his daughter alone. The people who took his place in various roles were far from matching his capabilities, which allowed Robespierre's actions to go unnoticed.
During this period, Robespierre met with many members of the Jacobin Club. He warned them that if he were to fall, the oppressed forces from the days of the Jacobins, the Feuillants, the Girondins, and even the Dantonists, would rise and seek revenge. Would they spare those who now inhabited the Jacobin Club?
"Blood has been spilled, heads have rolled, hatred has festered. Each of you has blood on your hands. Do you really think you can change allegiances at a time like this? If I fail, their fate from the past will surely be repeated in your lives!"
These chilling words frightened the assembly, and they knelt before Robespierre, tears streaming down their faces. In their prayers of repentance, they used the most venomous language to curse the snake known as Joseph Fouché, who had tempted them into his web of deceit.
A few days later, during another Jacobin Club meeting, former President Robespierre suddenly appeared. He declared his intention to expose a viper, urging everyone to see its true face.
The name of this snake was none other than "Joseph Fouché." This man concocted a litany of baseless accusations against Fouché, including organizing orgies with numerous men and women, fathering a horde of illegitimate children, and recounting sordid tales about Fouché and his illegitimate daughters, without realizing how young those daughters must be, given Fouché's age.
Stunned, Fouché hadn't had the chance to refute when Robespierre joined in. He claimed that scoundrels like Fouché had infiltrated the Jacobin Club, which was a disgrace to the club's honor. He suggested an immediate vote to expel this morally corrupt impostor and snake from the Jacobin Club.
So, the Jacobin Club swiftly held a vote, and the result was a resounding victory for Robespierre's faction, expelling Joseph Fouché from the club.
It was a thunderous blow. Fouché's previous advantages in his machinations had almost entirely evaporated in that moment. The guillotine, once far from his reach, seemed to inch closer again. Considering that just one day before beheading Danton, Robespierre had also executed Danton's wife, and Robespierre had been their wedding witness and the godfather of their daughter, Fouché could hardly imagine what fate awaited his own wife and children if he were sent to the scaffold.
Having regained control over the Jacobin Club, Robespierre knew how precarious his situation was. He was fully aware of the growing resentment toward him and that his base of support was unstable. He couldn't trust anyone, not even those who groveled at his feet, confessing their sins and begging for forgiveness, whether they were from the Jacobin Club or the Committee of Public Safety. He knew that should he reveal any vulnerability, they would undoubtedly betray him. Once a traitor, always a traitor!
So, Robespierre needed a reliable foundation. He believed that the only potential foundation for him could be the sans-culottes, the working-class people.
As a result, Robespierre controlled the National Convention and passed increasingly extreme laws favoring the sans-culottes. He didn't mind disrupting the entire economy, even if these laws were detrimental to the interests of the "respectable" citizens. Robespierre knew that his actions would only fuel more resentment from those in the National Convention and the Jacobin Club. However, these people had proven to be unreliable, even if he were to take their interests into account. Would they truly remain loyal to him?
"You've betrayed Robespierre once," Fouché whispered to Paul Barras. "Robespierre will never trust you again. That's why he's courting the sans-culottes. He's not sure if they're still on his side as they were before. But let me tell you, people have short memories, especially when they're bribed with material wealth. If the sans-culottes stand by him, you and everyone else will walk the same path as the Dantonists!"
"But everyone is too afraid to take action," Barras replied.
"So, let's make them even more afraid. That fear will eventually drive them to action," Fouché said in a low voice, wearing a sinister smile, "Monsieur Barras, do you know of someone, like a Charlotte Corday, who can perform the task of assassinating Couthon? The assassination must be in a public place, the attempt must fail, and the assassin must take their own life immediately."
Barras fell silent. After Fouché voiced this request, Barras understood the implications. If the assassination failed, it would still cause significant repercussions. If an investigation were conducted, it would put everyone from the sans-culottes to the National Convention on edge. Threats and blackmail would follow.
"Perhaps you should speak with Tallien; he may know someone suitable," Barras suggested.
Tallien, a lowly-born revolutionary, was once a trusted aide of Georges Danton. When the Dantonists were executed, Tallien was fortunate to escape. He had connections with criminal elements before the revolution, and his loyalty to Danton made him a potential candidate for this dangerous mission. In these circumstances, he was the best option.