"I admit," said he, "that a bad use is made of this liberty at the present moment. But that by no means authorizes this absurd tyranny. I beg you to remember that I have all my life combated against tyranny, and that I will combat it wherever I find it. That popularity to which I have aspired, and which I have enjoyed, is not a feeble reed. I will thrust it deep into the earth, and will make it shoot up in the soil of justice and of reason. And I now solemnly swear, if a law against emigration is voted, I swear to disobey you."[265] The Assembly was truly in a dilemma. They could not prohibit emigration without grossly violating that declaration of rights which they had just adopted with solemnities which had arrested the attention of the world. They could not permit this flood of emigration without exposing France to ruin; for it was well known that the nobles, with all the wealth they could accumulate, were crossing the frontiers merely to organize themselves into armies for the invasion of France. Mirabeau never displayed more power than on this occasion, in overawing and commanding the Assembly. He succeeded in arresting the measure. This, however, was his last triumph. Disease was making rapid ravages, his frame was exhausted, and death approached. A sudden attack of colic confined him to his chamber, and soon all hope of recovery was relinquished. He was still the idol of the people, and crowds, in breathless silence, thronged around his abode, anxious to receive bulletins of his health. The king and the people alike mourned, for both were leaning upon that vigorous arm. He could not repress an expression of satisfaction in view of his labors and his accomplishments. To his servants he said, "Support this head, the greatest in France." "William Pitt," he remarked, "is the minister of preparations. He governs with threats. I would give him some trouble if I should live."[266] On the morning of his death he said to an attendant, "Open the window. I shall die to-day. All that can now be done is to envelop one's self in perfumes, to crown one's self with flowers, to surround one's self with music, that one may sink quietly into everlasting sleep." Soon, in a paroxysm of extreme agony, he called for opium, saying, "You promised to save me from needless suffering." To quiet him a cup was presented, and he was deceived with the assurance that it contained the desired fatal opiate. He swallowed the draught, and in a moment expired, in the forty-second year of his age. It was the 2d of April, 1791. His death caused profound grief. All parties vied alike in conferring honor upon his remains. The nation went into mourning, a magnificent funeral was arranged, and the body was deposited in the tomb with pomp surpassing that which had accompanied the burial of the ancient kings of France. Suspicions are still cherished that Mirabeau died the victim of poison.[267]