“The people owe their freedom to Voltaire!” cried Regnault de St. Jean d’Angely; “for by enlightening them he gave them power. Nations are enthralled by ignorance alone; and when the torch of reason displays to them the ignominy of bearing these chains, they blush to wear them, and they snap them asunder!” Like a conqueror, seated on his trophies, they placed Voltaire’s coffin in the midst of the spot upon which the horrible Bastille had stood, and upon a great heap of stones which had formed part of that stronghold; and thus Voltaire, dead, triumphed over those stones which had gained a victory over him in life, for Voltaire had been a prisoner in the Bastille. On one of the blocks which formed this second altar of the country they carved this inscription: “RECEIVE ON THIS SPOT, WHERE DESPOTISM ONCE FETTERED THEE, THE HONORS DECREED TO THEE BY THY COUNTRY.” All Paris poured out to walk in the triumphal procession which accompanied the quiet ashes to their last resting-place. The car upon which the coffin lay was harnessed by twelve horses, four abreast, their manes plaited with golden tassels and beautiful flowers, the reins being held by men dressed in ancient Greek costume. On the car was a sort of altar upon which lay a waxen statue of the philosopher crowned with laurel. This was placed over the remains. The money spent upon this pageant was immense; whence it came, no one has ever learnt. It was almost miraculous. Meanwhile, the people were living upon a couple of ounces of bread apiece, and a few miserable vegetables. That passion and vengeance could have been kept alive upon such reducing diet, is the truest evidence of the justice of the national cause. The military formed a portion of the procession, while cannon boomed incessantly during the march. Finally—and it is the most significant fact of this remarkable pageant—a _printing-press_ was made to take part in the procession. At this press, agile printers were taking off impressions of sentences in honor of Voltaire, the printed papers being cast to the seething multitude fresh printed as they were. Here and there the red cap—the cap of liberty—might be seen, surmounting the ominous pike. Every actor and actress in Paris followed, dressed in the costumes of the characters of Voltaire’s plays. Members of all the learned bodies followed; a gigantic pyramid was carried along, bearing the titles of all his works; and, finally, the statue of the demigod himself—a statue of gold—was borne upon the shoulders of men dressed in Grecian costume, this being followed by a casket of gold, containing a copy of each of his works. Troops of singing-girls dressed in white met the quiet cause of all this demonstration, and showered white flowers upon the catafalque; hymns to his genius were sung, the air was sick with perfume, and the city trembled with the roar of adoration.