Monday, May 23:
Long sleep; then the delayed festivities. Arrival of the playpen designed by Hans, I put Fidi in it, the children gather around it, Loulou recites her poem in front of the cage, then we carry the cage into the garden; four of the birds fly away immediately; only a single chaffinch remained behind, unwilling to follow the calls of its brethren; for fear that the cat might get it, I tell Jakob to take it out and give it to Loulou to place on a bush; this is done, but probably the shock numbed it, for it flew, not upward, but downward, and Jakob’s dog, which we had not even noticed, pounced on it—it was dead. Thus this little festival of joy ended in tragedy, the poor bird had sensed its coming death. What a grim lesson—how wretched the human being’s pitiful good intentions in relation to Fate! The finch had to pay with its life for the freedom of its brethren.
I write to Prof. Nietzsche; after lunch, first drive with Grane to Stanz. In the evening our fireworks. Alluding to the morning serenade, R. calls me the conductor of his life.