cheat us; he has done good work in the
world by his poems and writings; he has backed up many, and lifted the
hearts of many, by pure thought; he means what he says. Yet, what is
altogether lighter than vanity? The human heart, answers the
religionist. What is altogether deceitful upon the scales? The human
heart. What is a Vanity Fair, a mob, a hubbub and babel of noises, to be
avoided, shunned, hated? The world. And, lastly, what are our thoughts
and struggles, vain ideas, and wishes? Vain, empty illusions, shadows,
and lies. And yet this man, with the inspiration which God gives every
true poet, tells us to trust to our _hearts_, and what the world calls
_illusions_. And he is right.

Now there are, of course, various sorts of illusions. The world is
itself illusive. None of us are exactly what we seem; and many of those
things that we have the firmest faith in really do not exist. When the
first philosopher declared that the world was round, and not a plane as
flat and circular as a dinner-plate or a halfpenny, people laughed at
him, and would have shut him up in a lunatic asylum. They said he had an
"illusion;" but it was they who had it. He was so bold as to start the
idea that we had people under us, and that the sun went to light them,
and that they walked with their feet to our feet. So they do, we know
well now; but the pope and cardinals would not have it, and so they met
in solemn conclave, and ordered the philosopher's book to be burnt, and
they would have burnt him, too, in their hardly logical way of saving
souls, only he recanted, and, sorely against his will, said that it was
all an "illusion." But the pope and his advisers had an illusion, too,
which was, that dressing up men who did not believe in their faith, in
garments on which flames and devils were represented--such a garment
they called a _san benito_--and then burning them, was really something
done for the glory of God. They called it with admirable satire an _auto
da fe_ (an "act of faith"), and they really did believe--for many of the
inquisitors were mistaken but tender men--that they did good by this;
but surely now they have outgrown this illusion. How many of these have
we yet to outgrow; how far are we off the true and liberal Christianity
which is the ideal of the saint and sage; how ready are we still to
persecute those who happen, by mere circumstances attending their birth
and education, to differ from us!

The inner world of man,