but also of the novel and drama, among them some of the greatest, like
the _Divine Comedy_, so far as they spring intimately from the
life of the artist, are "fragments of a great confession," and have
had the sanitary value of a confession for their creators. It is not
always possible to trace the personal feelings and motives lying behind
the artist's fictions; for the suffering soul covers its pains with
subtle disguises; yet even when we do not know them, we can divine
them. We are certain, for example, that Watteau's gay pictured visions
were the projection--and confession--of his own disappointed dreams.
The great advantage of art over ordinary expression, in this respect,
is its universality. Art is the confessional of the race. The artist
provides a medium through which all men can confess themselves and
heal their souls. In making the artist's expression ours, we find an
equal relief. Who does not feel a revival of some old or present despair
of his own when he reads:--

Un grand sommeil noir
Tombe sur ma vie;
Dormez toute espoir,
Dormez toute envie!

Je ne vois plus rien,
Je perds la memoire
Du mal et du bien....
Oh, la triste histoire!

yet who does not at the same time experience its assuagement? And this
effect is not confined to lyrical art, for so far as, in novel and
drama, we put ourselves in the place of the dramatis persona, we can
pour our own emotional experiences into them and through them find