for an Oriental to be either; the
East understands metaphysics too well for that. Of course, the real
objection which a philosophical Christian would bring against the
religion of Omar, is not that he gives no place to God, it is that he
gives too much place to God. His is that terrible theism which can
imagine nothing else but deity, and which denies altogether the
outlines of human personality and human will.

"The ball no question makes of Ayes or Noes,
But Here or There as strikes the Player goes;
And He that tossed you down into the field,
He knows about it all--he knows--he knows."

A Christian thinker such as Augustine or Dante would object to this
because it ignores free-will, which is the valour and dignity of the
soul. The quarrel of the highest Christianity with this scepticism is
not in the least that the scepticism denies the existence of God; it is
that it denies the existence of man.

In this cult of the pessimistic pleasure-seeker the Rubaiyat stands
first in our time; but it does not stand alone. Many of the most
brilliant intellects of our time have urged us to the same
self-conscious snatching at a rare delight. Walter Pater said that we
were all under sentence of death, and the only course was to enjoy
exquisite moments simply for those moments' sake. The same lesson was
taught by the very powerful and very desolate philosophy of Oscar
Wilde. It is the carpe diem religion; but the carpe diem religion is
not the religion of happy people, but of very unhappy people. Great joy
does, not gather the rosebuds while it may; its eyes are fixed on the
immortal rose which Dante saw. Great joy has in it the sense of
immortality; the very splendour of youth is the sense that it has all
space to stretch its legs in. In all great comic literature, in
"Tristram Shandy" or "Pickwick", there is this sense of space and
incorruptibility; we feel the characters are deathless people in an
endless tale.

It is true enough, of course, that a pungent happiness comes chiefly in
certain passing moments; but it is not true that we should think of
them as passing, or enjoy them simply "for those moments' sake." To do
this is to rationalize the happiness, and therefore to destroy it.
Happiness is a mystery like religion, and should never be rationalized.
Suppose a man experiences a really splendid moment of pleasure. I do
not mean something connected with a bit of enamel, I mean something
with a violent happine