The Eden Musee was designed in a variety of styles. Its roof was mansard. Attached to its facade were figures such as sea nymphs and caryatids.

Taking queue from Madame Tussaud's and Musee Grevin, wax figures of famous figures and historical scenes decorated the halls of the grand building. They were meant to be a pleasure for all. The New York Times described its opening as "a strictly first-class resort, particularly for ladies and children."

In one rather unfortunate accident, strong winds caused a 300-pound urn on the balustrade of the facade to become dislodged. The urn fell and instantly killed a local lithographer who was reading one of the Musee's advertisements.

A larger than life figure named "Ajeeb" was toted as a chess-playing robot on the second floor of the Musee. The 10-foot automaton sat atop a velvet pillow and thrilled opponents who challenged him to a game. Little did they know, Ajeeb wasn't a robot at all - multiple men would fit inside the paper-mache man and direct Ajeeb's movements from the inside of the dummy.

The Musee sought to attract visitors from all over the globe with its scenes from far away places. Of its roster of figurines representing political leaders, rulers from almost every country were included.

A catalog presented patrons with a monthly list and description of each exhibition and attraction. This included a "Chamber of Horrors," and a Winter Garden that served light refreshments.

Unsurprisingly perhaps, wax dioramas quickly fell out of public interest. The Musee was notable for being one of the first to include motion pictures in its list of permanent features, however, this alone was not enough to keep this world of oddities afloat. The Musee declared bankruptcy in 1915.

The collection of wax figures and the Chamber of Horrors were sold at auction and displayed on Coney Island. The new Eden Musee only lasted some 12 years. On the week of the second Eden Musee's closing, a fire engulfed a portion of the building. The New Yorker wrote about the incident on March 19th, 1928: "\[The fire] began burning near Charlie Chaplin's effigy; the sad and funny little man subsided mournfully into smoking grease. The flames leaped from figure to figure, stroking their oily faces with a hot and magic hand."