nificently by torch-light in the
cathedral, ten thousand armed men, and as many mourners, attending at the
ceremony. The fisherman's dress which he had worn was rent into shreds by
the crowd, to be preserved as relics; the door of his hut was pulled off
its hinges by a mob of women, and eagerly cut up into small pieces, to be
made into images, caskets, and other mementos. The scanty furniture of his
poor abode became of more value than the adornments of a palace; the
ground he had walked upon was considered sacred, and, being collected in
small phials, was sold at its weight in gold, and worn in the bosom as an
amulet.

Almost as extraordinary was the frenzy manifested by the populace of Paris
on the execution of the atrocious Marchioness de Brinvilliers. There were
grounds for the popular wonder in the case of Masaniello, who was
unstained with personal crimes. But the career of Madame de Brinvilliers
was of a nature to excite no other feelings than disgust and abhorrence.
She was convicted of poisoning several persons, and sentenced to be burned
in the Place de Greve, and to have her ashes scattered to the winds. On
the day of her execution, the populace, struck by her gracefulness and
beauty, inveighed against the severity of her sentence. Their pity soon
increased to admiration, and, ere evening, she was considered a saint. Her
ashes were industriously collected; even the charred wood, which had aided
to consume her, was eagerly purchased by the populace. Her ashes were
thought to preserve from witchcraft.

In England many persons have a singular love for the relics of thieves and
murderers, or other great criminals. The ropes with which they have been
hanged are very often bought by collectors at a guinea per foot. Great
sums were paid for the rope which hanged Dr. Dodd, and for those more
recently which did justice upon Mr. Fauntleroy for forgery, and on
Thurtell for the murder of Mr. Weare. The murder of Maria Marten, by
Corder, in the year 1828, excited the greatest interest all over the
country. People came from Wales and Scotland, and even from Ireland, to
visit the barn where the body of the murdered woman was buried. Every one
of them was anxious to carry away some memorial of his visit. Pieces of
the barn-door, tiles from the roof, and, above all, the clothes of the
poor victim, were eagerly sought after. A lock of her hair was sold for
two guineas, and the purchaser thought himself fortunate in getting it