open before him—what if the reef on which he had been wrecked could be interpreted as a goal, as the ulterior motive, as the actual purpose of his journey? To be wrecked here, this was also a goal:—_Bene navigavi cum naufragium feci_ … and he translated the “Ring” into Schopenhauerian language. Everything goes wrong, everything goes to wrack and ruin, the new world is just as bad as the old one:—Nonentity, the Indian Circe beckons … Brunnhilda, who according to the old plan had to retire with a song in honour of free love, consoling the world with the hope of a socialistic Utopia in which “all will be well”; now gets something else to do. She must first study Schopenhauer. She must first versify the fourth book of “The World as Will and Idea.” _Wagner was saved.…_ Joking apart, this _was_ a salvation. The service which Wagner owes to Schopenhauer is incalculable. It was the _philosopher of decadence_ who allowed the _artist of decadence_ to find himself.— 5. _The artist of decadence._ That is the word. And here I begin to be serious. I could not think of looking on approvingly while this _décadent_ spoils our health—and music into the bargain. Is Wagner a man at all? Is he not rather a disease? Everything he touches he contaminates. _He has made music sick._ A typical _décadent_ who thinks himself necessary with his corrupted taste, who arrogates to himself a higher taste, who tries to establish his depravity as a law, as progress, as a fulfilment. And no one guards against it. His powers of seduction attain monstrous proportions, holy incense hangs around him, the misunderstanding concerning him is called the Gospel,—and he has certainly not converted only the _poor in spirit_ to his cause! I should like to open the window a little:—Air! More air!—