whom he snaps at, with sullen ill success.  Such dim hope as he may have that I may take him out with me, will be, hour by hour, wearily disappointed; or, worse, darkened at once into a leaden despair by an authoritative “No”—­too well understood.  His fidelity only seals his fate; if he would not watch for me, he would be sent away, and go hunting with some happier master:  but he watches, and is wise, and faithful, and miserable; and his high animal intellect only gives him the wistful powers of wonder, and sorrow, and desire, and affection, which embitter his captivity.  Yet of the two, would we rather be watch-dog or fly?

150.  Indeed, the first point we have all to determine is not how free we are, but what kind of creatures we are.  It is of small importance to any of us whether we get liberty; but of the greatest that we deserve it.  Whether we can win it, fate must determine; but that we will be worthy of it we may ourselves determine; and the sorrowfullest fate of all that we can suffer is to have it without deserving it.

151.  I have hardly patience to hold my pen and go on writing, as I remember (I would that it were possible for a few consecutive instants to forget) the infinite follies of modern thought in this matter, centred in the notion that liberty is good for a man, irrespectively of the use he is likely to make of it.  Folly unfathomable! unspeakable! unendurable to look in the full face of, as the laugh of a cretin.  You will send your child, will you, into a room where the table is loaded with sweet wine and fruit—­some poisoned, some not?—­you will say to him, “Choose freely, my little child!  It is so good for you to have freedom of choice; it forms your character—­your individuality!  If you take the wrong cup or the wrong berry, you will die before the day is over, but you will have acquired the dignity of a Free child?”

152.  You think that puts the case too sharply?  I tell you, lover of liberty, there is no choice offered to you, but it is similarly between life and death.  There is no act, nor option of act, possible, but the wrong deed or option has poison in it which will stay in your veins thereafter forever.  Never more to all eternity can you be as you might have been had you not done that—­chosen that.  You have “formed your character,” forsooth!  No; if you have chosen ill, you have De-formed it, and that for ever!  In some choices it had been better for you that a red-hot iron bar struck you aside, scarred and helpless, than that you had so chosen.  “You will know better next time!” No.  Next time will never come.  Next time the choice will be in quite another aspect—­ between quite different things,—­you, weaker than you were by the evil into which you have fallen; it, more doubtful than it was, by the increased dimness of your sight.  No one ever gets wiser by doing wrong, nor stronger.  You will get wiser and stronger only by doing right, whether forced or not; the prime, the one need is to do that, under whatever compulsion, until you can do it without compulsion.  And then you are a Man.