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Updated: May 27, 2025
Camille Mauclair in his Idées Vivantes proposes in all seriousness a scheme for the fusion of the seven arts, though he deplored Wagner's efforts to reach a solution. Mauclair's theory is that the fusion can only be a cerebral one, that actually mingling sculpture, architecture, music, drama, acting, colour, dancing can never evoke the sensation of unity. Synthesis is not thus to be attained.
"No, not so very long ago ... Wait a bit! ... It was the night ... of course, yes ... It was the night when Carlotta you know, Mr. Commissary gave her famous 'co-ack'!" "Really? The night when Carlotta gave her famous 'co-ack'?" And M. Mifroid, replacing his gleaming glasses on his nose, fixed the stage-manager with a contemplative stare. "So Mauclair takes snuff, does he?" he asked carelessly.
There are those who have got to be made to feel something before they can begin to feel for themselves believe me, they are not the least sensitive or genuine of amateurs: they are only the most honest. I should like very much to do for even one of them what M. Mauclair did for me.
As Canaille Mauclair says: "Carrière was first influenced by the Spaniards, then by Ver Meer and Chardin ... formerly he coloured his canvas with exquisite delicacy and with a distinction of harmonies that came very near to Whistler's.
Not a long, but a full life, a happy one, and at the last, glory "le soleil des morts," as Balzac said and a competence for his dear ones. And it is to the honour of such writers as Roger Marx, Anatole France, Hamel, Morice, Mauclair, Verhaeren, Geffroy, that they recognised the genius of Carrière from the beginning.
He saw that, at the same time, he was pushing a human body and he could not keep back an exclamation, for he recognized the body at once: "Mauclair! Poor devil! He is dead!" But Mr. Commissary Mifroid, whom nothing surprised, was stooping over that big body. "No," he said, "he is dead-drunk, which is not quite the same thing." "It's the first time, if so," said the stage-manager
Even at Cambridge the spirit of the age, which is said to pervade the air like a pestilence, had infected me; and I set out on my first visit to Paris full of curiosity about what was then the contemporary movement at its last gasp. My guide was M. Mauclair; his book it was that put me in the right way.
It may have been consumption and Mauclair makes out a strong case and it may have been the expression of a rare poetic temperament. Watteau was a poet of excessive sensibility as well as the contriver of dainty masques and ballets. In literature one man at least has understood him, Walter Pater.
Gustave Kahn notes that few followed him to the grave. He was unknown except to some choice spirits, the dozen superior persons of Huysmans, scattered throughout the universe. His wife survived him only a short time. Little has been written of him, the most complete estimate being that of Camille Mauclair, with an introduction by Maeterlinck who calls his Hamlet more Hamlet than Shakespeare's.
Mauclair, on the contrary, includes Manet's name in his more comprehensive and more scientific study, as he also includes the name of Edgar Degas Degas, who is a latter-day Ingres, plus colour and a new psychology. The title of impressionism has been a misleading one. If Degas is an impressionist, pray what then is Monet?
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