"Da sank ban for sidste Gang til mit Bryst Og udbröd: 'Et Ord du mig give, Et kräftigt Ord, som kan vaere min Tröst Paa min sidste Gang i Live!" "Og jeg sagde ... Men, Fredrik, du skræmmer mig! sig ... Du rejser dig ... hvad bar du i Sinde? Du stirrer paa mig saa bleg som et Lig ... _Fredrik._ "O Moder! Moder! hold inde! Du sagde: 'Naar du for din Frelser staar, Da sig: Min Gud og min Broder, Tilgiv mig for dine Martyrsaar, For min Anger og for min Moder.' _Gertrud._ "Ha! hvoraf ved du det? _Fredrik._ "Mig det var, Forst nu mig selv jeg fatter. Det er din virkelige Sön, du har, Og nu lever han Livet atter."[1] Heiberg here makes a beautiful and ingenious use of the idea. But the Romanticists are not content with this. It is not enough for them to transpose the personality into the past, or to deck it with the bright peacock's tail of future existences. They split the Ego into strips, they resolve it into its elements. They scatter it abroad through space, as they stretch it out through time. For the laws of space and time affect them not. Self-consciousness is self-duplication. But it is an unhealthy self which cannot overcome and master this selfduplication. This we saw in the case of Lovell and of Roquairol. There is no greater misery than morbid self-contemplation. He who indulges in it separates himself from himself, observes himself from the point of view of a spectator, and ere long experiences the horrible feeling of the prisoner who, when he looks up, sees the eye of the warder at the little glass pane in the door of his cell. His own eye has become quite as terrible to him as another man's. What tends to make this condition permanent is partly the religious and moral feeling that one ought never to lose sight of, but to be always labouring at and improving one's self, and partly natural curiosity regarding the unknown; one looks upon one's self as a country, the coast of which is known, but the interior of which is still to be explored.