The first impression received from the Moreau Museum is that of having entered an enchanted castle, which has about it something of the treasure cave of the mountain sprites, something of the palace of the Elf-queen, as we know them from the “Thousand and One Nights,” and German folk-stories. And if we have tarried longer, and our eyes have grown accustomed to the ripple of pearls and precious stones, of enamel and gold, we are astonished at the strange, weird stiffness and stillness of all these splendid creatures, and really feel we are surrounded by ghosts and spectres that have assumed only in pretence the guise of men. Moreau formed his views on Baudelaire’s rules. In the rooms of his museum we fancy we are looking at a series of book-illustrations for the _Fleurs-du-mal_. “Je hais le mouvement qui déplace les lignes, Et jamais je ne pleure et jamais je ne ris.” “I hate the movement which displaces the lines, and never do I weep and never laugh” would, as an inscription above the entrance, most fittingly convey in words the main feature of Moreau’s art. For nearly all his pictures, but most of all for the “Triumph of Alexander the Great,” “Penelope’s Suitors,” and the “Daughters of Thespius,” the verses of the _Paris Dream_ would suit as a deliberate description. “J’avais banni de ces spectacles Le vègétal irregulier . . . . . Babel d’escaliers et d’arcades, C’était un palais infini, Plein de bassins et de cascades Tombant dans l’or mat ou bruni. . . . . . C’étaient des pierres inouies . . . . . Et sur ces mouvantes merveilles Planait.... Un silence d’éternité.”