erefore, to the heads of the chief
parties that an oath of peace should be taken by the whole body of the
burghers. Allegretti's account of the ceremony, which took place at dead
of night in the beautiful Cathedral of Siena, is worthy to be
translated. 'The conditions of the peace were then read, which took up
eight pages, together with an oath of the most horrible sort, full of
maledictions, imprecations, excommunications, invocations of evil,
renunciation of benefits temporal and spiritual, confiscation of goods,
vows, and so many other woes that to hear it was a terror; _et etiam_
that _in articulo mortis_ no sacrament should accrue to the salvation,
but rather to the damnation of those who might break the said
conditions; insomuch that I, Allegretto di Nanni Allegretti, being
present, believe that never was made or heard a more awful and horrible
oath. Then the notaries of the Nove and the Popolo, on either side of
the altar, wrote down the names of all the citizens, who swore upon the
crucifix, for on each side there was one, and every couple of the one
and the other faction kissed; and the bells clashed, and _Te Deum
laudamus_ was sung with the organs and the choir while the oath was
being taken. All this happened between one and two hours of the night,
with many torches lighted. Now may God will that this be peace indeed,
and tranquillity for all citizens, whereof I doubt.'[1] The doubt of
Allegretti was but too reasonable. Siena profited little by these
dreadful oaths and terrifying functions. Two years later on, the same
chronicler tells how it was believed that blood had rained outside the
Porta a Laterino, and that various visions of saints and specters had
appeared to holy persons, proclaiming changes in the state, and
commanding a public demonstration of repentance. Each parish organized a
procession, and all in turn marched, some by day and some by night,
singing Litanies, and beating and scourging themselves, to the
Cathedral, where they dedicated candles; and 'one ransomed prisoners,
for an offering, and another dowered a girl in marriage.'

In Bologna in 1457 a similar revival took place on the occasion of an
outbreak of the plague. 'Flagellants went round the city, and when they
came to a cross, they all cried with a loud voice: _Misericordia!
misericordia!_ For eight days there was a strict fast; the butchers shut
their shops.' What follows in the Chronicle is comic: 'Meretrices ad
concubita nullum ad