French infidels faced terror and despair in death, showing deism offers no true help.
The following affecting account of the death of several of the leading infidels in France, at the period of the revolution, is extracted from Sir Walter Scott's "Life of Buonaparte," and strikingly shows that deism can afford no help in the hour of trial:
None of all the victims of the reign of terror felt its disabling influence so completely as the despot Robespierre, who had so long directed its sway. The Hotel de Ville, where he and his companions had assembled, was surrounded by about 1500 men, and cannon turned upon the doors. The deserted group of theorists within conducted themselves like scorpions, which, when surrounded by fire, are said to turn their stings on each other, and on themselves. Mutual and ferocious upbraiding took place among these miserable men. "Wretch! were these the means you promised to furnish?" said Payan to Henriot, whom he found intoxicated, and incapable of resolution or exertion, and seizing on him as he spoke, he precipitated the revolutionary general from a window. Henriot survived the fall only to drag himself into a drain, in which he was afterwards discovered, and brought out to execution. The younger Robespierre threw himself from the window, but did not perish on the spot. Las Basas dispatched himself with a pistol-shot. St. Just, after imploring his comrades to kill him, attempted his own life with an irresolute hand, and failed. Couthon lay beneath the table brandishing a knife, with which he repeatedly wounded his bosom, without daring to add force enough to reach his heart. Robespierre, in an unsuccessful attempt to shoot himself, had only inflicted a horrible fracture on his under jaw.
In this situation they were found, like wolves in their lair, foul with blood, mutilated, despairing, and yet not able to die. Robespierre lay on a table in an ante-room, his head supported by a deal box, and his hideous countenance half hidden by a dirty cloth bound round the shattered chin.
The captives were carried in triumph to the convention, who, without admitting them to the bar, ordered them, as outlaws, for instant execution. As the fatal ears passed to the guillotine, those who filled them, but especially Robespierre, were overwhelmed with execrations, from the friends and relatives of victims whom he had sent on the same melancholy road.
The nature of his previous wound, from which the cloth had never been removed, till the executioner tore it off, added to the torture of the sufferer. The shattered jaw dropped, and the wretch yelled aloud, to the horror of the spectators. A masque, taken from that dreadful head, was long exhibited in different nations of Europe, and appalled the spectators by its ugliness, and the mixture of fiendish expression with that of bodily agony.