Above all, the Unanimist remembers and realizes afresh the old truth that "no man liveth unto himself." According to the Expressionist's creed, as we have seen, the end of art is to utter and communicate emotion. The fullest and finest emotions are those one human being feels towards another. Every sympathy is an enrichment of life, every antipathy a negation. It follows then, that, for the Unanimist, Love is the fulfilling of his Law. It is a beautiful and life-giving faith, felt and with a perfect sincerity expressed towards all nature by the Indian poet Tagore, and towards humanity especially by M. Vildrac in his _Book of Love_ ("Livre d'Amour"). He tells us in his "Commentary" how to-day the poet, sitting at home with pen and paper before him, feels that he is pent in, stifled by himself. He had been about to re-tell the old, old story of himself, to set himself once more on the stage of his poem--the same old dusty self tricked out, costumed anew. Suddenly he knows the figure to be tawdry and shameful. He is hot all over when he looks at it; he must out into the air, into the street, out of the stuffy museum where so long he has stirred the dead egotist ashes, out into the bigger life, the life of his fellows; he must live, with them, by them, in them. "I am weary of deeds done inside myself, I am weary of voyages inside myself, And of heroism wrought by strokes of the pen, And of a beauty made up of formulæ. "I am ashamed of lying to my work, Of my work lying to my life, And of being able to content myself, By burning sweet spices, With the mouldering smell that is master here." Again, in "The Conquerors," the poet dreams of the Victorious One who has no army, the Knight who rides afoot, the Crusader without breviary or scrip, the Pilgrim of Love who, by the shining in his eyes, draws all men to him, and they in turn draw other men until, at last: "The time came in the land, The time of the Great Conquest, When the people with this desire Left the threshold of their door To go forth towards one another. "And the time came in the land When to fill all its story There was nothing but songs in unison, _One round danced about the houses_, One battle and one victory." And so our tale ends where it began, with the Choral Dance. FOOTNOTES: [54] _Ethics_, X, 4. [55] H. Bergson, _Life and Consciousness_, Huxley Lecture, May 29, 1911. [56] Religion is here used as meaning the worship of some form of god, as the practical counterpart of theology. [57] Mr. D.S. MacColl. [58] D.S. MacColl, _Nineteenth Century Art_, p. 21. (1902.)