nd a
return to Christianly sick and obscurantist ideals? And finally even a
denial of self, a deletion of self, on the part of an artist who
theretofore had worked with all the power of his will in favour of the
opposite cause, the spiritualisation and sensualisation of his art? And
not only of his art, but also of his life? Let us remember how
enthusiastically Wagner at one time walked in the footsteps of the
philosopher Feuerbach. Feuerbach's words "healthy sensuality" struck
Wagner in the thirties and forties very much as they struck many other
Germans--they called themselves the young Germans--that is to say, as words
of salvation. Did he ultimately _change his mind_ on this point? It would
seem that he had at least had the desire of _changing_ his doctrine
towards the end.{~HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS~} Had the _hatred of life_ become dominant in him as in
Flaubert? For "Parsifal" is a work of rancour, of revenge, of the most
secret concoction of poisons with which to make an end of the first
conditions of life, _it is a bad work_. The preaching of chastity remains
an incitement to unnaturalness: I despise anybody who does not regard
"Parsifal" as an outrage upon morality.--

How I Got Rid Of Wagner.

1.

Already in the summer of 1876, when the first festival at Bayreuth was at
its height, I took leave of Wagner in my soul. I cannot endure anything
double-faced. Since Wagner had returned to Germany, he had condescended
step by step to everything that I despise--even to anti-Semitism.{~HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS~} As a
matter of fact, it was then high time to bid him farewell: but the proof
of this came only too soon. Richard Wagner, ostensibly the most triumphant
creature alive; as a matter of fact, though, a cranky and desperate
_decadent_, suddenly fell helpless and broken on his knees before the
Christian cross.{~HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS~} Was there no German at that time who had the eyes to
see, and the sympathy in his soul to feel, the ghastly nature of this
spectacle? Was I the only one who _suffered_ from it?--Enough, the
unexpected event, like a flash of lightning, made me see only too clearly
what kind of a place it was that I had just left,--and it also made me
shudder as a man shudders who unawares has just escaped a great danger. As
I continued my journey alone, I trembled. Not long after this I was ill,
more than ill--I was _tired_;--tired of the continual disappointments over
everything which remained for us mo