About artists

I was reading Maytreyi Devi's book "It does not die", recently discovered, which she wrote as a response to Mircea Eliade's "Maytreyi". I was wondering, is there a limit of the sacrifice for the art that artists should respect? I mean, the result of their best work has always their roots in some deep experience they might have had once. No writer can write about a tragic love if they havent experienced it in their lives. If they havent felt it before, they have to build it in themselves, but this requires somebody else's sacrifice, as well. For love, there should be complicity from 2 sides, usually equally shared. Is that fair for the non-artist? Is that actually real love, or just an instrument, a raw-material for the masterpiece?

Even I, in my high-school years, when I prepared to be an actress, responded to "If you really want to become and actress, you have to keep yourself young and you should stay away from falling in love" with: "Love helps poetry". And it helped it. I've never felt that real on the stage like the time I had that childish, unfullfilled love.

I feel that ME didn't really love Maytreyi, but the concept of the trouble he could get into if he loved her and wanted to marry her. He loved drama. He loved experiencing the new, the mistery, the unknown. But he didnt love HER as a woman. He knew this will lead to the development of his artist soul. What effect had this development on Maytreyi? She was locked in her room and married quickly to someone her partent chose for her. She was beaten up. She lost her honour in front of his family and she lost her younger (mentally ill) sister, who comitted suicide. And finally she lost her heart, her abbility to love fully again.
The question is: do artists have the right to use somebody for a higher couse? Do they have the right to distroy someones life to feed decades later people with pages of mistery and splendor?