But one must distinguish; and of a large percentage of the educated class of Jew in Germany it would be difficult to speak too highly.  Germans may be the “salt of the earth,” as the Emperor once told them they were, but Jewish talent can with quite as much, perhaps more, justice be called the salt of German prosperity.  And not alone in the region of finance and commerce.  Some of the best intellect, most of the leading enterprise in Germany, in all important directions, is Jewish.  Many of her ablest newspaper proprietors and editors are Jews.  Many of her finest actors and actresses are Jews and Jewesses.  Many of her cleverest lawyers, doctors, and artists are Jews.  The career of Herr Albert Ballin, the Jewish director of the Hamburg-Amerika line, the Emperor’s friend, to whom Germany owes a great deal of her mercantile marine expansion, is a long romance illustrative of Jewish organizing power and success.

The Emperor’s friendship for Herr Ballin is obviously not entirely disinterested, but the interest at the root of it is an imperial one.  In this spirit he cultivates to-day, as he has done since he took over the Empire, the society of all his subjects, German or Jew, who either by their talents or through their wealth can contribute to the success of the mighty task which occupies his waking thoughts, and for all one knows, his sleeping thoughts—­his dreams—­as well.  Accordingly, the wealthy German is quite aware that if he is to be reckoned among the Emperor’s friends he must be prepared to pay for the privilege, since the Emperor is neither slow nor shy about using his influence in order to make the more fortunate members of the community put their hands deeply into their pockets for national purposes.  A little time ago he invited a number of merchant princes and captains of industry, as American papers invariably call wealthy Germans, to a Bier-abend at the palace.  When the score or so of guests were seated, he announced that he was collecting subscriptions for some public object—­the national airship fund, perhaps—­and sent a sheet of paper to Herr Friedlander Fuld, the “coal-king” of Germany, to head the list.  Herr Fuld wrote down L5,000, and the paper was taken back to the Emperor.  “Oh, this will never do, lieber Fuld,” he exclaimed, on seeing the amount.  “At this rate people will be putting down their names for L50.  You must at least double it.”  And Herr Fuld had to do so.  A few weeks afterwards there was another invitation to the palace, and the same sort of scene took place.  A little later still Herr Fuld got a third invitation, and as an imperial invitation is equivalent to a command, he had to go.  When he arrived he noticed his fellow-industrials looking uneasy, not to say sad.  The Emperor noticed it too, for his first words were:  “Dear gentlemen, to-night the beer costs nothing.”