TWO MARTYRS.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XVII, Issue XXII, 28 November 1896, Page 123

TWO MARTYRS.

A .Jewish Legend. The traveller in Rhineland who is proceed* ing from Mayence to Heidelberg, or in the reverse direction, might do worse than break his journey at the sleepy, old-time city of Worms. He will find few places along his route richer in historical interest. The delver among the Jewish antiquities of Worms wiil be rewarded by the discovery of some quaintly pathetic legends, tel ing of the sufferings endured by this remark able people. Entering the ancient synagogue, which lies in a small square off the Judengasse, one notices two lights ensconced against the eastern wall, on either side of the * ark,’ a chest in which are deposited the scrolls of the law. They are kept continually burning in memory of two martyrs who are said to have saciificed themselves in defence of the Jewish community of Worms. The story of their martyrdom is as follows : Some hundreds of years ago, at the period of Easter—always a time of danger tor the Jews of yore—a religious procession was wending its way through the streets of Worms. As it passed by rhe Jewish quarter, an alarm was raided that the Jews had insulted the Host. This was enough to fire the rabble with a thirst for vengeance. They demanded that the inhabitants of the Judengasse should produce the malefactors within seven days, or the lives of the entire community would stand forfeited. Inquiries were set on foot by the Jews, but no one had witnessed the outrage. When the last day of grace arrived without discovering any trace of the supposed culprits, the Jewish quarter was plunged in despair. This happened to be the seventh day of the fea-t of Passover. As on all festivals, Jewish and Christian. the gates of the Judengasse were locked. The beadle of the congregation went his usual rounds in the early morning, to house the faithful to prayer, when he reard a loud knocking at «he gates Two strangers presented themselves, asserting that they were Jews, and requesting to be admitted. The beadle informed them of the danger they were incurring by entering the Judengasse at such a time. * We know it,’ they replied, ‘ and are here to save our brethren.’ They were admitted. Presently the streets of Worms resound with riotous noise. An infuriated populace, on vengeance intent, are making their way to the Jewish quarter. This time the knocking at the gate* is men cing as thunder. They sway to and fro against the pressure of the surging crowd, and the doom of the unoffending community is imminent. Then the newly admitted strangers step forward. With a perfect self-possession they exclaim, • Imbrue not your hands in innocent blood. We, and we alone, are the authors of the deed !’ The gates are opened, and the crowd pass in. In the square which fronts the synagogue a funeral pyre is raised, in the flame* of which the strangers answer for their self accusation with their lives. Suddenly every eye is directed above, for from the crackling flumes two doves emerge, and, flying upwards, are lost in the immensity of space. Whence the martyrs who wrought this noteworthy deliverance for the Jews of Worms hailed, or who they were, was never known. The story has a legendaiy setting, but its essential truth is attested by the two lights which have ever since been kindled in the synagogue in their memory.— • Sunday at Home.’