of Spandau, and he related to me how unpleasant it is
when one is obliged to wear irons in winter. For myself I thought it
very unchristian that the irons were not warmed a trifle. If the
irons were warmed a little for us they would not make so unpleasant
an impression, and even chilly natures might then bear them very
well; it would be only proper consideration, too, if the fetters were
perfumed with essence of roses and laurels, as is the case in this
country (France). I asked my Justizrath whether he often got oysters
to eat at Spandau? He said, No; Spandau was too far from the sea.
Moreover, he said meat was very scarce there, and there was no kind
of _volaille_ except flies, which fell into one's soup. . . . Now, as
I really needed some recreation, and as Spandau is too far from the
sea for oysters to be got there, and the Spandau fly-soup did not
seem very appetizing to me, as, besides all this, the Prussian chains
are very cold in winter, and could not be conducive to my health, I
resolved to visit Paris."

Since this time Paris has been Heine's home, and his best prose works
have been written either to inform the Germans on French affairs or to
inform the French on German philosophy and literature. He became a
correspondent of the _Allgemeine Zeitung_, and his correspondence, which
extends, with an interruption of several years, from 1831 to 1844, forms
the volume entitled "Franzosische Zustande" (French Affairs), and the
second and third volume of his "Vermischte Schriften." It is a witty and
often wise commentary on public men and public events: Louis Philippe,
Casimir Perier, Thiers, Guizot, Rothschild, the Catholic party, the
Socialist party, have their turn of satire and appreciation, for Heine
deals out both with an impartiality which made his less favorable
critics--Borne, for example--charge him with the rather incompatible sins
of reckless caprice and venality. Literature and art alternate with
politics: we have now a sketch of George Sand or a description of one of
Horace Vernet's pictures; now a criticism of Victor Hugo or of Liszt; now
an irresistible caricature of Spontini or Kalkbrenner; and occasionally
the predominant satire is relieved by a fine saying or a genial word of
admiration. And all is done with that airy lightness, yet precision of
touch, which distinguishes Heine beyond any living writer. The charge of
venality was l