of male and female beauty or grandeur, wrought by sculptors who
appeared never to have debased their souls by the sight of any
meaner forms than those of gods or godlike mortals. But the deep
simplicity of these great works was not to be comprehended by a mind
excited and disturbed, as mine was, by the various objects that had
recently been presented to it. I therefore turned away with merely
a passing glance, resolving on some future occasion to brood over
each individual statue and picture until my inmost spirit should
feel their excellence. In this department, again, I noticed the
tendency to whimsical combinations and ludicrous analogies which
seemed to influence many of the arrangements of the museum. The
wooden statue so well known as the Palladium of Troy was placed in
close apposition with the wooden head of General Jackson, which was
stolen a few years since from the bows of the frigate Constitution.

We had now completed the circuit of the spacious hall, and found
ourselves again near the door. Feeling somewhat wearied with the
survey of so many novelties and antiquities, I sat down upon
Cowper's sofa, while the virtuoso threw himself carelessly into
Rabelais's easychair. Casting my eyes upon the opposite wall, I was
surprised to perceive the shadow of a man flickering unsteadily
across the wainscot, and looking as if it were stirred by some
breath of air that found its way through the door or windows. No
substantial figure was visible from which this shadow might be
thrown; nor, had there been such, was there any sunshine that would
have caused it to darken upon the wall.

"It is Peter Schlemihl's shadow," observed the virtuoso, "and one of
the most valuable articles in my collection."