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monk； devoid alike of cares and pleasures； and from the depths of his
cell he looked out upon the meadows； woods； and vineyards of his
convent。 Pausing before some work of Teniers； he took for his own the
helmet of the soldier or the poverty of the artisan； he wished to wear
a smoke…begrimed cap with these Flemings； to drink their beer and join
their game at cards； and smiled upon the comely plumpness of a peasant
woman。 He shivered at a snowstorm by Mieris； he seemed to take part in
Salvator Rosa's battle…piece； he ran his fingers over a tomahawk form
Illinois； and felt his own hair rise as he touched a Cherokee
scalping…knife。 He marveled over the rebec that he set in the hands of
some lady of the land； drank in the musical notes of her ballad； and
in the twilight by the gothic arch above the hearth he told his love
in a gloom so deep that he could not read his answer in her eyes。
He caught at all delights； at all sorrows； grasped at existence in
every form； and endowed the phantoms conjured up from that inert and
plastic material so liberally with his own life and feelings； that the
sound of his own footsteps reached him as if from another world； or as
the hum of Paris reaches the towers of Notre Dame。
He ascended the inner staircase which led to the first floor； with its
votive shields； panoplies； carved shrines； and figures on the wall at
every step。 Haunted by the strangest shapes； by marvelous creations
belonging to the borderland betwixt life and death； he walked as if
under the spell of a dream。 His own existence became a matter of doubt
to him； he was neither wholly alive nor dead； like the curious objects
about him。 The light began to fade as he reached the show…rooms； but
the treasures of gold and silver heaped up there scarcely seemed to
need illumination from without。 The most extravagant whims of
prodigals； who have run through millions to perish in garrets； had
left their traces here in this vast bazar of human follies。 Here；
beside a writing desk； made at the cost of 100；000 francs； and sold
for a hundred pence； lay a lock with a secret worth a king's ransom。
The human race was revealed in all the grandeur of its wretchedness；
in all the splendor of its infinite littleness。 An ebony table that an
artist might worship； carved after Jean Goujon's designs； in years of
toil； had been purchased perhaps at the price of firewood。 Precious
caskets； and things that fairy hands might have fashioned； lay there
in heaps like rubbish。
〃You must have the worth of millions here！〃 cried the young man as he
entered the last of an immense suite of rooms； all decorated and gilt
by eighteenth century artists。
〃Thousands of millions； you might say；〃 said the florid shopman； 〃but
you have seen nothing as yet。 Go up to the third floor； and you shall
see！〃
The stranger followed his guide to a fourth gallery； where one by one
there passed before his wearied eyes several pictures by Poussin； a
magnificent statue by Michael Angelo； enchanting landscapes by Claude
Lorraine； a Gerard Dow （like a stray page from Sterne）； Rembrandts；
Murillos； and pictures by Velasquez； as dark and full of color as a
poem of Byron's； then came classic bas…reliefs； finely…cut agates；
wonderful cameos！ Works of art upon works of art； till the craftsman's
skill palled on the mind； masterpiece after masterpiece till art
itself became hateful at last and enthusiasm died。 He came upon a
Madonna by Raphael； but he was tired of Raphael； a figure by Correggio
never received the glance it demanded of him。 A priceless vase of
antique porphyry carved round about with pictures of the most
grotesquely wanton of Roman divinities； the pride of some Corinna；
scarcely drew a smile from him。
The ruins of fifteen hundred vanished years oppressed him； he sickened
under all this human thought； felt bored by all this luxury and art。
He struggled in vain against the constantly renewed fantastic shapes
that sprang up from under his feet； like children of some sportive
demon。
Are not fearful poisons set up in the soul by a swift concentration of
all her energies； her enjoyments； or ideas； as modern chemistry； in
its caprice； repeats the action of creation by some gas or other？ Do
not many men perish under the shock of the sudden expansion of some
moral acid within them？
〃What is there in that box？〃 he inquired； as he reached a large closet
final triumph of human skill； originality； wealth； and splendor； in
which there hung a large； square mahogany coffer； suspended from a
nail by a silver chain。
〃Ah； monsieur keeps the key of it；〃 said the stout assistant
mysteriously。 〃If you wish to see the portrait； I will gladly venture
to tell him。〃
〃Venture！〃 said the young man； 〃then is your master a prince？〃
〃I don't know what he is；〃 the other answered。 Equally astonished；
each looked for a moment at the other。 Then construing the stranger's
silence as an order； the apprentice left him alone in the closet。
Have you never launched into the immensity of time and space as you
read the geological writings of Cuvier？ Carried by his fancy； have you
hung as if suspended by a magician's wand over the illimitable abyss
of the past？ When the fossil bones of animals belonging to
civilizations before the Flood are turned up in bed after bed and
layer upon layer of the quarries of Montmartre or among the schists of
the Ural range； the soul receives with dismay a glimpse of millions of
peoples forgotten by feeble human memory and unrecognized by permanent
divine tradition； peoples whose ashes cover our globe with two feet of
earth that yields bread to us and flowers。
Is not Cuvier the great poet of our era？ Byron has given admirable
expression to certain moral conflicts； but our immortal naturalist has
reconstructed past worlds from a few bleached bones； has rebuilt
cities； like Cadmus； with monsters' teeth； has animated forests with
all the secrets of zoology gleaned from a piece of coal； has
discovered a giant population from the footprints of a mammoth。 These
forms stand erect； grow large； and fill regions commensurate with
their giant size。 He treats figures like a poet； a naught set beside a
seven by him produces awe。
He can call up nothingness before you without the phrases of a
charlatan。 He searches a lump of gypsum； finds an impression in it；
says to you； 〃Behold！〃 All at once marble takes an animal shape； the
dead come to life； the history of the world is laid open before you。
After countless dynasties of giant creatures； races of fish and clans
of mollusks； the race of man appears at last as the degenerate copy of
a splendid model； which the Creator has perchance destroyed。
Emboldened by his gaze into the past； this petty race； children of
yesterday； can overstep chaos； can raise a psalm without end； and
outline for themselves the story of the Universe in an Apocalypse that
reveals the past。 After the tremendous resurrection