SECTION. IV. The Dying Infidel. 1. VOLTAIRE. "The Frenchman first in literary fame, Mention him if you please-Voltaire ?-The same, Lived long, wrote much, laugh'd heartily, and died. An infidel in health;-but what when sick? O! then a text would touch him to the quick."-CowPEE. It is well known that this celebrated infidel laboured through a long life to diffuse the poison of infidelity. In life he was pre-eminent in guilt, and at death in misery. He had been accustomed for years to call the adorable Saviour "the Wretch," and to vow that he would crush him. He closed many of his letters to his infidel friends with these words-" Crush the Wretch;" -yet such is the detestable meanness, as well as wickedness of infidelity, that during these efforts to destroy Christianity, he was accustomed to receive the sacrament, and to attend to some other outward acts of religion, that he might be able to deny his infidelity if accused of it! Such was he in health; but dangerous sickness and approaching death, though they could not soften the hard heart of the hypocritic infidel into real penitence, filled it with agony, remorse, and despair. Voltaire had risen, in poor deluded France, high in worldly prosperity and fame; but the Most High appeared to permit him to rise to the pinnacle of glory, only that he might sink with deeper ruin to the gulfs below, and thus afford a more impressive warning of the effects of his folly and his sin. The following awful description has been given of his last hours: "It was during Voltaire's last visit to Paris, when his triumph was complete, and he had even feared he should die with glory amidst the acclamations of an infatuated theatre, that he was struck by the hand of Providence, and fated to make a very different termination of his career. "In the midst of his triumphs, a violent bleeding raised apprehensions for his life. D'Alembert, Diderot, and Marmontel, hastened to support his resolution in his last moments, but were only witnesses to their mutual ignominy, as well as to his own. "Here let not the historian fear exaggeration. Rage, remorse, reproach, and blasphemy, all accompany and characterize the long agony of the dying atheist. His death, the most terrible that is ever recorded to have stricken the impious man, will not be denied by his companions in impiety. Their silence, however much they may wish to deny it, is the least of those corroborative proofs that could be adduced. Not one of them has ever dared to mention any sign given, of resolution or tranquillity, by the premier chief, during the space of three months, which elapsed from the time he was crowned in the theatre, until his decease. Such a silence expresses how great their humiliation was in his death! "It was on his return from the theatre, and in the midst of the toils he was resuming in order to acquire fresh applause, when Voltaire was warned, that the long career of his impiety was drawing to an end." In spite of all the infidel philosophers who flocked around him, in the first days of his illness, he gave signs of wishing to return to the God he had so often blasphemed. He called for the priest, who ministered to Him whom he had sworn to crush, under the appellation of the Wretch." His danger increasing he wrote, entreating the Abbe Gualtier to visit him. He afterward made a declaration, in which he, in fact, renounced his infidelity. This declaration was signed by himself and two witnesses, one of whom was the Marquis de Villevicille, to whom, eleven years before, Voltaire was wont to write, "Conceal your march from the enemy, in your endeavours to crush the Wretch!" "Voltaire had permitted this declaration to be carried to the rector of St. Sulpice, and to the archbishop of Paris, to know whether it would be sufficient. When the Abbe Gualtier returned with the answer, it was impossible for him to gain admittance to the patient. The conspirators had strained every nerve to hinder their chief from consummating his recantation, and every avenue was shut to the priest, whom Voltaire himself had sent for. The demons haunted every access; rage succeeded to fury and fury to rage again, during the remainder of his life. "Then it was that D'Alembert, Diderot, and about twenty others of the conspirators, who had beset his apartment, never approached him, but to witness their own ignominy; and often he would curse them, and exclaim Retire! It is you that have brought me to my present state! Begone! I could have done without you all; but you could not exist without me! And what a wretched glory have you procured me!' "Then would succeed the horrid remembrance of his conspiracy. They could hear him, the prey of anguish and dread, alternately supplicating or blaspheming that God whom he had conspired against; and in plaintive accents would he cry out, O Christ! O Jesus Christ!' and then complain that he was abandoned by God and The hand, which had traced, in ancient writ, the sentence of an impious and reviling king, seemed to trace before his eyes, Crush then, do crush the Wretch.' In vain he turned his head away; the time was coming apace when he was to appear before the tribunal of Him he had blasphemed; and his physicians, particularly Mr. Tronchin, calling in to administer relief, thunderstruck, retired, declaring the death of the impious man to be terrible indeed. The pride of the conspirators would willingly have suppressed these declarations, but it was in vain. The Mareschal de Richelieu flies from the bed-side, declaring it to be a sight too terrible to be sustained; and Mr. Tronchin, that the furies of Orestes could give but a faint idea of those of Voltaire." In one of these visits the doctor found him in the greatest agonies, exclaiming, with the utmost horror, "I am abandoned by God and man." He then said, "Doctor, I will give you half of what I am worth, if you will give me six months' life." The doctor answered, "Sir, you cannot live six weeks." Voltaire replied, "Then I shall go to hell, and you will go with me!" and soon after expired. 2. THOMAS PAINE. Horrible is the end of the unrighteous generation." THIS unhappy man is well known to have been one of the most malignant enemies of Christianity. He was an avowed infidel in principle, and an open profligate in practice. He lived despised by the wise and good, and, like many other infidels, died apparently full of dread of the future, though a stranger to that repentance which is unto life. The following account of the concluding scenes of his life, is from the pen of Dr. Manley, a respectable physician, who attended him in his last illness: "During the latter part of his life, though his conversation was equivocal, his conduct was singular. He would not be left alone night or day; he not only required to have some person with him; but he must see that he or she was there, and would not allow his curtains to be closed at any time; and if, as it would sometimes unavoidably happen, he was left alone, he would scream and halloo until some person came to him. When relief from pain would admit, he would seem thoughtful and contemplative, his eyes generally closed, and his hands folded on his breast, although he never slept without the assistance of an anodyne. There was something remarkable in his conduct at this time, which comprises about two weeks before his death, particularly when we reflect that Thomas Paine was the author of the Age of Reason.' He would call out during his paroxysms of distress, without intermission, O Lord, help me!-God, help me!-Jesus Christ, help me!—() Lord, help me,' &c.; repeating the same expressions without the least variation, in a tone that would alarm the house. It was this conduct, that induced me to think that he had abandoned his former opinions; and I was more inclined to that belief when I understood from his nurse, who is a very serious, and I believe a pious woman, that he would occasionally inquire, on seeing her engaged with a book, what she was reading; and being answered, and at the same time being asked whether she should read aloud, he assented, and would appear to give particular attention. I took occasion, during the night of the 5th and 6th of June, to test the strength of his opinions respecting revelation. I purposely made him a very late visit; it was a time which seemed to suit my errand, it was midnight. He was in great distress, constantly exclaiming in the words above-mentioned, when I addressed him in the following manner, the nurse being present: Mr. Paine, your opinions, by a large |