Such a freedom is the very condition of spirituality; for faith, hope, and charity are not servile virtues, but heavenward-tending impulses of the free soul, activities of the will. Here lies their value; since only in true love, voluntary service, deliberate choice, can the possibilities of human nature be fulfilled: “Toutes les soumissions d’esclaves du monde, ne valent pas un beau regard d’homme libre.” Therefore, for the author of this gospel of freedom and hope, the course of salvation takes an exactly opposite course to that described by Huysmans and his school. The typical soul for Péguy is not the “twice-born” exhausted and fastidious sensualist Durtal, driven at last to seek reconciliation by his overwhelming sense of sin. It is the “once-born” simple and ardent peasant child, Joan of Arc; brought straight from the sheepfold to serve the heroic purposes of God. “Tenant tout un royaume en sa ténacité Vivant en plein mystère avec sagacité Mourant en plein martyre avec vivacité La fille de Lorraine à nulle autre pareille.” The typical experience is an experience of growth, freshness, novelty; action rightly directed, and a vision which perceives beauty and dignity in the antique and homely labours of the race. The cultivator of the earth and the rearer of children, the faithful priest, the strong and loyal soldier—of these is the kingdom of heaven. Of these and by these the old France was built up; and through these ideals and virtues, and the national saints in whom they are expressed, the new France may be saved. With Huysmans in our mystical moments we are usually inside a church, assisted by incense and plain-chant of the best quality: with Péguy, we are in the open air, in the market garden, or in the nursery. There his poetry, in Francis Thompson’s beautiful image, “plays at the foot of the Cross.” Even the Holy Innocents in heaven are playing at bowling hoops with their palms and crowns. “At least, I think so,” says God, “for they never asked _My_ permission.” “Tel est mon paradis.... Mon paradis est tout ce qu’il y a de plus simple.” Side by side with Péguy’s spiritual gospel, or rather entwined with it, goes his practical and patriotic gospel. Since for him the whole of life was crammed with spiritual significance, he saw in the patriotic passion a sacrament of heavenly love, and in earthly cities symbols of the City of God. Hence nationalism was to him, as to Dostoevsky, essentially religious, and Joan of Arc— “Une humble enfant perdue en deux amours, L’amour de son pays parmi l’amour de Dieu”— was the perfect saint, fusing the two halves of human experience in one whole. These two aspects of love he could not separate, for they seemed to him equally the flowers of a completed life. Even God, he thought, would find it difficult to decide between them.