IV

Now, all vegetation is subject to certain biological laws, and fir trees, when uprooted from their soil, are known to have the devastating tendency to drop their needles, especially when they are standing in warm rooms, and at my uncle’s it was always warm. The life span of the silver fir is somewhat longer than that of the common fir, as has been proved in the well-known treatise Abies vulgaris and abies nobilis, by Dr. Hergenring. However, even the life span of the silver fir is not unlimited. With the approach of the carnival season, it became apparent that an attempt must be made to subject my aunt to new distress: the tree was rapidly losing its needles, and during the evening carol singing a slight frown was noticed on my aunt’s forehead. At the advice of a really outstanding psychologist, the attempt was now made to speak, in a casual conversational tone, of a possible end to the Christmas season, especially now that trees were beginning to put forth their leaves, something generally acknowledged to be an indication of approaching spring, whereas in our latitudes the word “Christmas” is unquestionably associated with conceptions of winter. My very astute uncle suggested one evening that everyone join in singing the songs “Hark, the birds have all arrived!” and “Come, Lovely May,” but even at the very first line of the first of those songs my aunt put on such a grim expression that everyone immediately broke off and intoned “O Christmas Tree!” Three days later, my cousin Johannes was instructed to undertake a mild act of spoliation; but no sooner had he reached out and taken the cork hammer from one of the dwarfs than my aunt started screaming so violently that the dwarf was immediately made whole again, the candles were lit, and, somewhat hastily but very loud, the carol “Silent Night” burst forth.

However, the nights were no longer silent. Loudly singing groups of youthful drunkards roamed through the city with trumpets and drums, everything was covered with streamers and confetti, and children in fancy dress filled the streets during the day, shooting, yelling, some of them singing too. According to private statistics there were at least sixty thousand cowboys and forty thousand Czardas princesses in our city. In short, it was carnival time, a feast we are accustomed to celebrate with a vigor equal to if not surpassing that of Christmas. But my aunt seemed to be blind and deaf: she deplored the carnival costumes that inevitably turn up in the clothes closets of our homes during this time; in a sad voice she complained of the decline of morality since people seemed unable, even during Christmastime, to refrain from these immoral goings-on; and when in my cousin’s bedroom she discovered a balloon that, although deflated, still clearly showed a white jester’s cap painted on it, she burst into tears and begged my uncle to put a stop to these unholy goings-on.

To its consternation, the family had to conclude that my aunt actually was under the delusion that it was “Christmas Eve.” At any rate, my uncle called a family conclave, pleaded for forbearance toward his wife, consideration for her strange mental condition, and proceeded to organize another expedition in order at least to ensure the peace of the evening festivities.

While my aunt was asleep, the decorations were removed from the old tree and installed on the new one, and her condition remained gratifying.