To the _Atlantic Monthly_ thanks are due for permission to reprint chapters I, III and IV; to the _North American Review_, for chapter VIII; and to the _Century_, for chapters V, VI, IX and X. R. H. S. GEEENBUSH, MASS. August, 1914. * * * * * CONTENTS I. A DEFENSE OF JOY II. THE BRIMMING CUP III. ENTHUSIASM IV. A CHAPTER OF ENTHUSIASMS V. THE AUTO-COMRADE VI. VIM AND VISION VII. PRINTED JOY VIII. THE JOYFUL HEART FOR POETS IX. THE JOYOUS MISSION OF MECHANICAL MUSIC X. MASTERS BY PROXY * * * * * THE JOYFUL HEART I A DEFENSE OF JOY Joy is such stuff as the hinges of Heaven's doors are made of. So our fathers believed. So we supposed in childhood. Since then it has become the literary fashion to oppose this idea. The writers would have us think of joy not as a supernal hinge, but as a pottle of hay, hung by a crafty creator before humanity's asinine nose. The donkey is thus constantly incited to unrewarded efforts. And when he arrives at the journey's end he is either defrauded of the hay outright, or he dislikes it, or it disagrees with him. Robert Louis Stevenson warns us that "to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive," beautifully portraying the emptiness and illusory character of achievement. And, of those who have attained, Mr. E. F. Benson exclaims, "God help them!" These sayings are typical of a widespread literary fashion. Now to slander Mistress Joy to-day is a serious matter. For we are coming to realize that she is a far more important person than we had supposed; that she is, in fact, one of the chief managers of life. Instead of doing a modest little business in an obscure suburb, she has offices that embrace the whole first floor of humanity's city hall. Of course I do not doubt that our writer-friends note down the truth as they see it. But they see it imperfectly. They merely have a corner of one eye on a corner of the truth. Therefore they tell untruths that are the falser for being so charmingly and neatly expressed. What they say about joy being the bribe that achievement offers us to get itself realized may be true in a sense. But they are wrong in speaking of the bribe as if it were an apple rotten at the core, or a bag of counterfeit coin, or a wisp of artificial hay. It is none of these things. It is sweet and genuine and well worth the necessary effort, once we are in a position to appreciate it at anything like its true worth. We must learn not to trust the beautiful writers too implicitly. For there is no more treacherous guide than the consummate artist on the wrong track.