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Updated: June 22, 2025
It would seem that little Sampson sheltering himself behind his capitalists had refused to give the poet a commission for a comic opera, and Pinchas raved at Gideon, M.P., who he was sure was Sampson's financial backer, and threatened to shoot him and danced maniacally about the office.
Pinchas was indeed a figure of mark, with somebody else's frock-coat on his meagre person, his hair flowing like a dark cascade under a broad-brimmed dusky hat, and his sombre face aglow with genius and cocksureness. 'Why should you expect thought from a rabbi? said Grunbitz. 'You don't expect truth from a tradesman. Besides, only youth thinks. 'That is well said, approved Pinchas.
They will make me Prime Minister like Lord Beaconsfield, only he was no true lover of his people, he was not the Messiah. To hell with the rich bankers and the stockbrokers we want them not. We will free ourselves." The extraordinary vigor of the poet's language and gestures told. Only half comprehending, the majority stamped and huzzahed. Pinchas swelled visibly.
"But de paper she is yours!" said the poet, forgetting his English in his excitement. "No, I am only the editor. I have been dismissed, and you are appointed instead of me." Pinchas dropped back into his chair like a lump of lead. He hung his head again and folded his arms. "Then they get not me for editor," he said moodily. "Nonsense, why not?" said Raphael, flushing. "Vat you think me?"
'I and you are the only two people in New York who serve the poetic drama I by writing, you by producing. Goldwater still shook his head, albeit a whit appeased by the flattery. Kloot replied for him: 'Your manuscript shall be returned to you by the first dustcart. Pinchas disregarded the youth. 'But I am willing you shall have only a fortnight's rehearsals. I believe in you, Goldwater.
"Vat vill you give me, if I find you a Rédacteur?" suddenly asked Pinchas. "I give up my editorial seat " "Pooh! I find you a first-class Rédacteur who vill not want a big salary; perhaps he vill do it for nothing. How much commission vill you give me?"
"Surely you can write to her publishers?" And the door closed upon the Russian dreamer, leaving the practical Englishman dumbfounded at his never having thought of this simple expedient. But before he could adopt it the door was thrown open again by Pinchas, who had got out of the habit of knocking through Raphael being too polite to reprimand him.
Diffidence is not a mark of the Jew. The claims of Ebenezer Sugarman and of Melchitsedek Pinchas were put forth most vehemently by Ebenezer and Melchitsedek respectively, and their mutual accusations of incompetence enlivened Mr. Schlesinger's back office. "He ain't able to spell the commonest English words," said Ebenezer, with a contemptuous guffaw that sounded like the croak of a raven.
Pinchas laughed enthusiastically in his turn, but replied: "Surely you will plead my cause, you whose motto is the Hebrew saying 'the husband help the housewife, God help the bachelor." "But have you the wherewithal to support her?" "Shall my writings not suffice? If there are none to protect literature in England, we will go abroad to your birthplace, Reb Shemuel, the cradle of great scholars."
Melchitsedek Pinchas by dint of a five-pound note from Sir Asher Aaronsberg in acknowledgement of the dedication to him of the poet's 'Songs of Zion' had carried his genius to the great new Jewry across the Atlantic. He had arrived in New York only that very March, and already a crowd of votaries hung upon his lips and paid for all that entered them.
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