Once upon a time, in a certain country, lived some Jews. They were
ordinary Jews, fit for pogroms, for being slandered, or any other state
requirements.
For example.
Whenever the native population began to show signs of being
dissatisfied with life, the authorities removed certain clauses from
the state regulations and sounded the following hope-awakening call:
"Draw near, you people; approach the seat of power."
The people drew near; and the authorities began to remonstrate with
them:
"What is the cause of the agitation?"
"Your Honours, we have nothing to eat."
"Have you any teeth left?"
"Yes, a few."
"You see, you always manage to conceal something from the authorities."
When the local authorities found that the agitation could be
suppressed by knocking out the remaining teeth, they immediately
resorted to that remedy. But if they saw that harmonious relations
could not be established by this means they began to ask tempting
questions:
"What do you want?"
"Some land."
Some of them who were so deep sunken in ignorance that they were not
able to understand what was in the interest of the state, went further
and kept repeating:
"We want reforms of some kind in order that our teeth and ribs and
insides, at least, may be regarded as our own property, and not be
touched without cause."
The authorities reasoned with them:
"Oh, friends, why should you have these idle dreams? It is said that
man liveth not by bread alone, also that one person that has been
beaten is worth two that have not."
"And do they agree?"
"Who?"
"Those who have not been beaten?"
"Of course, dear friends. Did not the English ask us not very many
years ago: 'Exile,' they said, 'all your own people to Siberia, and
put us in their place. We,' they said, 'will pay the taxes punctually,
and will drink twelve gallons of vodka per person per year, and,
generally speaking..' 'No,' we said, 'why should we? Our people are all
right, they are humble and obedient, they are not going to give us any
trouble.' So now, you good fellows, instead of getting excited like
this, don't you think you had better go and shake up the Jews a bit?
What do you say to that? What else are they for?"
The people pondered and pondered; they saw that they could get no
redress, so they decided to act upon the suggestion of the authorities.
"Well, fellows," they said, "with God's blessing we will smash them."
They ransacked fifty houses and killed a few Jews. But they soon tired
of their labours, and, their desire for reforms being satisfied,
everything went on as before.
Besides the authorities, the native population and the Jews, there
lived some kind-hearted people in the state. Their function was to
divert agitation into other channels and to quiet passions. After each
pogrom their whole number came together, eighteen men in all, and sent
forth to the world their written protest, thus:
"Although we know the Jews are Russian subjects, we are nevertheless
convinced that they ought not to be utterly exterminated, and,
therefore, taking all considerations into account, we hereby express
our condemnation of this extreme persecution of living people.
(_Signed_) High-Brow, Narrow-Chin, Long-Hair, Biting-Lip, Yea and Nay,
Big Bellows, Joseph Three-Ear, Noisy-One, Know-All, Cyril Just-So,
Flow-of-Words, Look-Wise, Quill-Driver, Lieutenant-Colonel (retired)
Drink-no-Beer, Narym (solicitor), Busybody, On-All-Fours and Grisha
In-the-Future, seven years old, a boy."
These protests appeared after each pogrom with the only difference that
the age of Grisha kept changing and that Quill-Driver signed on behalf
of Narym,[1] who was suddenly exiled to a town bearing the same name.
Sometimes the provinces responded to these protests:
"We sympathise and add our signatures," Pull-Apart telegraphed from
Sleepy-Town, and Featherbrain from Daft Town; Samogryzoff "and others"
from Okuroff also joined in. It was clear to everybody that "the
others" were an invention, to make the message look more formidable,
for there were no others in Okuroff.
The Jews were greatly distressed when they read these protests, and on
one occasion one of them, who was a very shrewd man, made the following
proposal:--
"Do you know what? You don't? Well, let us hide all the pens and ink
and paper before the next pogrom, and see what these eighteen people,
including Grisha, will do then."
These Jews knew how to act together. Once decided, they bought up and
hid all the paper and pens and poured all the ink into the Black Sea.
Then they quietly awaited the result.
They had not long to wait: the necessary permission was received from
the authorities, a pogrom took place, the hospitals were full of
Jews--and the humanitarians were running about St Petersburg looking
for pens and paper. They could find none anywhere except in the offices
of the authorities. And the latter would not give them any.
"What do you take us for?" they said. "We know what you want it for.
No, you must do without it this time."
"But how can we?" Mr Busybody entreated them.
"Well," they answered, "you ought to realise by now that we have given
you plenty of chances to protest."
Grisha, who was already forty-three years old, cried:
"I want to protest."
But there was nothing to protest on. A happy thought struck Know-All:
"Shall we write something on the fence at least?"
There were no fences in St Petersburg, only iron railings.
But they proceeded to the outskirts of the town, where, near the
slaughterhouses, they came upon an old fence. No sooner, however, had
Mr High-Brow made the first letter in chalk than, suddenly, as if
dropping from the skies came a policeman and began to expostulate with
him:
"What does this mean? When boys do this sort of thing they are whipped,
but you, staid gentlemen, what are you doing?"
Of course he could not understand them, taking them for writers old
enough to be writing their thousand and first article. They were
nonplussed, and, scattering literally in all directions, went home.
So that one pogrom was not protested against, and the humanitarians
were deprived of a pleasure.
People who understand the psychology of races say rightly: "The Jews
are a shrewd people."
[1] A well-known place of exile in Siberia.