ty intrigues stand
in the way of that broad policy in which safety lay, for they could not
forget past instances of Asiatic invasion. The frightful ravages wrought
by the Huns and the Avars were far in the past, but no long time had
elapsed since the coming of the Magyars and the Mongols, and now here
was another of those hordes of murderous barbarians, hanging like a
cloud of war on the eastern skirt of Europe, and threatening to rain
death and ruin upon the land. The dread of the nations was not amiss.
They had neglected to strengthen the eastern barrier to the Turkish
avalanche. Now it threatened their very doors, and they must meet it at
home.

The Turks were not long in making their purpose evident. Within two
years after the fall of Constantinople they were on the march again, and
had laid siege to Belgrade, the first obstacle in their pathway to
universal conquest. The Turkish cannons were thundering at the doors of
Europe. Belgrade fallen, Vienna would come next, and the march of the
barbarians might only end at the sea.

And yet, despite their danger, the people of Germany remained supine.
Hungary had valiantly defended itself against the Turks ten years
before, without aid from the German empire. It looked now as if Belgrade
might be left to its fate. The brave John Hunyades and his faithful
Hungarians were the only bulwarks of Europe against the foe, for the
people seemed incapable of seeing a danger a thousand miles away. The
pope and his legate John Capistrano, general of the Capuchins, were the
only aids to the valiant Hunyades in his vigorous defence. They preached
a crusade, but with little success. Capistrano traversed Germany,
eloquently calling the people to arms against the barbarians. The result
was similar to that on previous occasions, the real offenders were
neglected, the innocent suffered. The people, instead of arming against
the Turks, turned against the Jews, and murdered them by thousands.
Whatever happened in Europe,--a plague, an invasion, a famine, a
financial strait,--that unhappy people were in some way held
responsible, and mediaeval Europe seemed to think it could, at any time,
check the frightful career of a comet or ward off pestilence by
slaughtering a few thousands of Jews. It cannot be said that it worked
well on this occasion; the Jews died, but the Turks surrounded Belgrade
still.

Capistrano found no military ardor in Germany, in princes or people. The
princes contented t