en symbolically I do not consider it of any
importance, and that I shall only dedicate myself more entirely to
upholding the rights of my unhappy brethren. But, nevertheless, I find
it beneath my dignity and a taint upon my honor, to allow myself to be
baptized in order to hold office in Prussia. I understand very well
the Psalmist's words: 'Good God, give me my daily bread, that I may
not blaspheme thy name!'"

The uncle's offer was accepted. In 1819 Harry Heine entered the
university of Bonn. During his stay in Hamburg began his unrequited
passion for a cousin who lived in that city--a passion which inspired
a large portion of his poetry, and indeed gave the keynote to his
whole tone and spirit. He sings so many different versions of the same
story of disappointment, that it is impossible to ascertain, with all
his frank and passionate confidences, the true course of the affair.
After a few months at Bonn, he removed to the university of Goettingen,
which he left in 1822 for Berlin. There is no other period in the
poet's career on which it is so pleasant to linger as on the two years
of his residence in the Prussian capital. In his first prose work, the
_Letters from Berlin_, published in the _Rhenish-Westphalian
Indicator_, he has painted a vivid picture of the life and gayety of
the city during its most brilliant season. "At the last rout I was
particularly gay, I was so beside myself, that I really do not know
why I did not walk on my head. If my most mortal enemy had crossed my
path, I should have said to him, To-morrow we will kill each other,
but to-night I will cordially cover you with kisses. _Tu es beau, tu
es charmant! Tu es l'objet de ma_ _flamme je t'adore, ma belle!_
these were the words my lips repeated instinctively a hundred times;
and I pressed everybody's hand, and I took off my hat gracefully to
everybody, and all the men returned my civilities. Only one German
youth played the boor, and railed against what he called my aping the
manners of the foreign Babylon; and growled out in his old Teutonic,
beer-drinking bass voice, 'At a _cherman_ masquerade, a _Cherman_
should speak _Cherman_.' Oh German youth! how thy words strike me as
not only silly, but almost blasphemous at such moments, when my soul
lovingly embraces the entire universe, when I would fain joyfully
embrace Russians and Turks, and throw myself in tears on the breast of
my brother the enslaved African!"

The doors of the most delightfu