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 the whole audience rose and received him with frantic applause. An actor came forward and crowned him with a wreath of laurels, while the people stormed and shouted. It certainly was a triumph, a remarkable triumph, not only for the man, but for his opinions. There was no discordant voice. As one who was present said, "Envy, hatred, fanaticism, and intolerance dared not murmur."

But all these entertainments were too much for the old man. He grew more feeble and ill, and died at last on May 30, 1778, at the age of eighty-three. Shortly before his death Voltaire signed a declaration which summed up his belief: "I die worshiping God, loving my friends, and not hating my enemies, but detesting superstition." His body, dressed up as though he were alive, was taken out of Paris in a carriage and buried at Scellières, about a hundred miles away. The bishops of the diocese sent an order to forbid the burial, but it was too late. No newspaper was allowed to mention his death or anything about him, and the Academy was forbidden to hold the service which was customary on the death of a member. In the twentieth century just the same orders were issued by the Russian Government when Tolstoy died. Nothing is feared more by Church and State than the influence of a great reformer.

Over Voltaire's body controversy raged just as it had over the living man.

On the eve of the French Revolution the National