terrible a formula, as in the last cry of Don José with which the work ends: “Yes, it is I who have killed her, I—my adored Carmen!” —Such a conception of love (the only one worthy of a philosopher) is rare: it distinguishes one work of art from among a thousand others. For, as a rule, artists are no better than the rest of the world, they are even worse—they _misunderstand_ love. Even Wagner misunderstood it. They imagine that they are selfless in it because they appear to be seeking the advantage of another creature often to their own disadvantage. But in return they want to _possess_ the other creature.… Even God is no exception to this rule, he is very far from thinking “What does it matter to thee whether I love thee or not?”—He becomes terrible if he is not loved in return “_L’amour_—and with this principle one carries one’s point against Gods and men—_est de tous les sentiments le plus égoiste, et par conséquent, lorsqu’il est blessé, le moins généreux_” (B. Constant). 3. Perhaps you are beginning to perceive how very much this music _improves_ me?—_Il faut méditerraniser la musique._ and I have my reasons for this principle (“Beyond Good and Evil,” pp. 216 _et seq._) The return to Nature, health, good spirits, youth, _virtue_!—And yet I was one of the most corrupted Wagnerites.… I was able to take Wagner seriously. Oh, this old magician! what tricks has he not played upon us! The first thing his art places in our hands is a magnifying glass: we look through it, and we no longer trust our own eyes—Everything grows bigger, _even Wagner grows bigger_.… What a clever rattlesnake. Throughout his life he rattled “resignation,” “loyalty,” and “purity” about our ears, and he retired from the _corrupt_ world with a song of praise to chastity!—And we believed it all.…