The Blue Wonder
A poor young doctor and his wife compete to gain an inheritance from a rich, devout aunt.
This story has been attributed to German author Heinrich Zschokke (1771-1848). It was published in 1837, and is set in Vienna, Austria.
Doctor Falcon was a handsome fellow. He had been to two universities and learned so much that there was nobody more learned in the modern systems of medicine. But learning such as this is not to be acquired for nothing, it had cost our worthy doctor nearly every penny of his inheritance. “Never mind!” thought he to himself; “when I get home, I’ll marry some rich girl or other, who may take a fancy to becoming the doctor’s lady.”
But what are the wisest resolutions against the eloquence of a pretty face? Doctor Falcon fell in love with Susan, who was as pretty as a lover could wish her, and she had the best disposition in the world to become a doctor’s lady, but she had no money.
“Never mind, my dear Susan!” said the doctor, as he kissed her “you see, a doctor must marry, otherwise people have no confidence in him. You will bring me credit, and credit will bring me patients and the patient’s money. If they should fail, we have good expectations. Your aunt, Miss Sarah Bugle, is old, over fifty years, and so rich that even a small part of her fortune will help us out of all our trouble. We may plan upon that!”
Susan’s mother did not object to the match, nor her father, for they were both in heaven; and her guardian was pleased to see his ward make a respectable connexion. Her aunt, Sarah, was also well-pleased, because as long as Susan remained unmarried, Sarah saw very clearly that she would be obliged to give her some financial help. Miss Sarah Bugle was careful with her money.
So, Susan became Mrs. Falcon, and the doctor looked most keenly out of his window to see the patients come to his house, on the strength of his increased claims to credit. However, they came very sparingly; and instead, there appeared every year a merry little face, to increase the parental joys of Doctor Falcon and his lady.
Susan was an excellent housewife, so that you would have sworn the doctor must have been extremely well off. “How they manage to do it, I can’t think!” Aunt Sarah would often exclaim. “It’s a blue wonder to me!”
Not that it was always sunshine: there were days when the budget was quite exhausted; and sometimes whole weeks would elapse without a single guilder1 finding its way into the house. But it was always some consolation to know that Aunt Sarah was rich, sickly, and growing old. The worse matters looked at home, the more hopeful they became at the prospect of an inheritance.
The doctor and Susan depended rather too confidently on the inheritance of the aunt. For even supposing that the 55 year ‘old’ lady had been so near to her death as her loving relatives imagined, it so happened that there were other interested parties. Another niece, and two nephews, whose claims were all as strong as those of Susan and her husband. All looked forward with equal longing to receiving an inheritance.
The first nephew, Bugle, the philosopher, had perhaps least cause of all, as he was rich enough. But he visited her regularly, often invited her to dinner, and sent her all sorts of specialities from his kitchen. He was accordingly honoured with the title of her ‘own darling nephew’.
However, his cousin, the Reverend Primarius Bugle, by means of his theology, exercised great influence over the aunt, as she was very pious and devout. She was greatly comforted by the visits of her reverend nephew. She would call him the saviour of her soul, her greatest of benefactors, and promise to think of him in her last hour. This was music to the ears of the theologian. ‘I cannot fail to be the sole beneficiary,’ he would think to himself; ‘or, as our pious aunt says, it would be a blue wonder indeed.’
Nor would his calculation have been a bad one, but for his cousin Lawyer Tweezer, who was married to Aunt Sarah’s niece. His legal ability made him a man of great importance to the aunt. Aunt Sarah lent money on high interest and good security, and worked so diligently for the salvation of those who borrowed from her, that they were sure to become poorer and poorer under her ministration. “Blessed are the poor!” she would exclaim when they were paying her interest on interest.
It would sometimes happen, however, that Aunt Sarah was carried too far by her virtuous zeal for the future welfare of her neighbours; so that, what with her securities, and her compound interest, and the wickedness of her debtors, she would occasionally find herself involved in disputes and litigation. Without the aid of Lawyer Tweezer, she would frequently have seen interest and principal slipping through her fingers. “I should be a poor, forsaken, lost woman, my dearest nephew,” she would often say to Tweezer, “if you were not there, to take my part. The time may come when I shall be able to repay you.” This was music to the ears of the jurist. He hoped one day to find himself the sole heir, and fancied he should be able to touch the right note when it came to the writing of the will.
However, Miss Sarah Bugle had not the least inclination to die and leave her fortune. She was, therefore, by no means displeased with the competition for her inheritance. Nobody gained by it more than herself. It brought her the dainties of philosophy, the consolations of religion, the protection of the law, and moderate doctor’s bills.
Then one morning, the aunt’s maid appeared at the doctor’s house and exclaimed “Quick, doctor! Pray come immediately! Miss Sarah is dying!”. As she popped her head in at the door, she continued “my lady has been looking most wretched for some days.”
When this news came Falcon was sitting, endeavouring to console his weeping Susan. He promised the maid he would come immediately, but remained with his wife, to console her. But he had little success. Poor Susan wept more bitterly than ever, and her husband sat beside her, unconscious of the cause of her tears.
“Come, be open-hearted to your husband, my dearest love,” he said; “you torture me to see you thus, while you conceal from me the cause.”
“Well, then listen to me. Oh! We have four children.”
“Ay, and the finest in the town, if I am not mistaken! They are all so gentle, so amiable, so …”
“No, my dear husband; but what is to become of us in the future?”
“Oh, thou unbelieving Susan! Let us rely on Providence.”
Susan concealed her face in his chest, clung to him, and in a scarcely audible whisper, said, “I am to be a mother for the fifth time.”
The papa was half inclined to cry himself at this unlooked for announcement. However, he concealed his consternation as well as he could. “Nay, sweetheart, is that all?” he exclaimed. “Come, Susan, we shall have five little angels instead of four. We cannot fail to be happy!”
Susan had had her cry out, and became more tranquil as a matter of course; but the doctor found no such vent for his uneasiness. He walked up and down the room, looked out of the window, and nothing could divert his thoughts. He would have forgotten the dying Miss Bugle, had not Susan reminded him that it was time to hasten to her deathbed.
Doctor Falcon took up his hat, and left the house. The little domestic dialogue still weighed on his spirits. He thought only of the small number of his patients, and the exhausted state of his bank account.
When he arrived at his dearly beloved aunt’s, he did not, indeed, find her on her deathbed. Instead, she was seated before a large book, which she had opened at Reflections on Death.
“What is the matter with you?” asked the learned Doctor Falcon, as he laid his hat and stick aside.
“The Lord knows,” sighed Aunt Sarah in a soft and plaintive tone, “I have suffered much for several days. I feel as if my final hour has come, and that would be terrible.”
The doctor felt her pulse, but all the good man’s thoughts were at home, with Susan.
“Do you think there is danger, my dear Falcon?” asked the aunt.
“Not for many years,” replied the doctor, scarcely knowing what he said.
“Well, that is some consolation,” replied the lady in a more cheerful tone. She then spoke of a thousand different things, none of them in any way connected with her indisposition. The doctor, meanwhile, was not listening to a word of what the good lady was saying. But at length he began to lose patience.
“What then is the matter with you?” he repeated.
“Oh, my appetite! I have not relished a spoonful of soup these two days. And then my head aches as if it would burst.”
“Something you have eaten has, perhaps, disagreed with you, aunt”
“Gracious Heaven! No, Falcon, the stomach cannot be in fault. I live so simply, so frugally. Seriously, I don’t think I have for several weeks eaten anything likely to disagree with me. But sometimes I have a toothache, sometimes heartburn and vomiting. Good Heavens! Do look at me, Falcon, look how pale I am, how my eyes are sunk in my head. Oh dear! I am certainly very unwell.”
“Well, what do I care?” said the doctor in a peevish tone, his mind entirely occupied by Susan’s condition: “you’re in the family way2.”
“Merciful Heaven!” screamed the virgin lady, in a voice that might have been heard three streets off. “Merciful Heaven! That would be a blue wonder indeed!”.
A cold sweat came over the doctor as he heard these animated tones from the maiden lips of Miss Sarah Bugle. He immediately recollected that, what with ill-humour, and an absent mind, he had been betrayed into a spectacularly foolish speech, and one that no chaste virgin was ever likely to forgive.
‘I will let the storm vent itself, and seek safety in flight, before the neighbours come pouring in, to see what’s the matter’, thought the terrified doctor. And opening the door he rushed into the street, and home.
On the following day Doctor Falcon could not, for the soul of him, help laughing at his own blunder. However, Susan began to reprove her husband’s levity.
“I would not say another word, my dear, if I were not convinced that you have offended my aunt for ever. Such an affront can never be forgiven by so pious a maiden lady. It is ill for us, and particularly now. We have a long winter before us.”
At that there was a slight tap at the door, and Aunt Sarah’s maid entered with a sealed note, and an urgent request from his aunt that the doctor would without fail, precisely at one o’clock, favour her with a visit.
“I shall be sure to come,” said Doctor Falcon, as he took the note and dismissed the maid.
He weighed the note in his hand, and turned jestingly to his wife. “Feel, Susan; it is as heavy as lead.” He opened it, and, lo! ten new ducats fell out3. He looked at the envelope, it was addressed to Doctor Falcon, there could be no mistake. Such unheard-of liberality on the part of the stingy Sarah justly amazed the couple.
“Well, this is the bluest of all my aunt’s blue wonders!” exclaimed Falcon. “Look! Providence watches over us and our children. The winter is provided for.” Falcon clasped his wife in his arms. He said not another word for several minutes, but he wept inwardly; for he was unwilling that she should see how deeply he was affected.
As the clock struck one, Doctor Falcon stood by the bedside of the aunt. With real emotion, and sincere gratitude, he approached her. “Best of aunts!” he said. “Your present of to-day has made Susan and me very happy.”
“Dear nephew,” said the sick lady, in the gentlest tone of which her voice was capable, “I have long, very long, been your debtor.”
“And forgive me my rudeness of yesterday,” continued the doctor.
Aunt Sarah modestly covered her face with her handkerchief. After a while she said, but without looking at him, “Nephew, I am about to put unlimited confidence in you - my life depends on you. Can you keep a secret? Will you?”
Doctor Falcon was ready to promise everything.
“Well, I will come and live with you, as long as you keep my secret. I will give you a thousand guilders every year for my board. And when I die, you shall have all that I leave behind me.” The doctor fell on his knees by her bedside, and renewed his oath with increased solemnity. The he stood.
“Nephew, when you left me yesterday after that dreadful announcement …”
The doctor was about to fall once more on his knees, “Pardon the expression, my angelic aunt! It was …”
“No, nephew, perhaps you were right.”
“It was an unpardonable stupidity on my part.”
“No, nephew, I believe you are not wrong.”
“Impossible, my angelic aunt!”
“Nephew, you are right. I ought to have been wiser at my time of life, you mean. You are right, but now you will know all. The misfortune has happened. I was married. Secretly, very secretly indeed, but all in an honourable way, all quite orderly. But who’ll believe me? Now he lies dead, killed by a bullet. Here are his letters. He is dead, and …”
“Who, aunt?” exclaimed Falcon in utter amazement.
“Alas! The trumpeter of the French regiment of Hussars, that was quartered here during the summer and autumn. God be merciful to his soul! Here I am now, a widow, and not a soul knows it, not a soul would believe it. It will kill me if it become known, it would be a blue wonder to the town. My good name is all to me.”
The doctor shook his head, he could scarcely recover from his surprise. The trumpeter had indeed been frequently seen at Miss Bugle’s house, but Doctor Falcon had never dreamt of such a powerful affinity between a trumpeter and a Bugle. He had no difficulty now in accounting for the generosity of the anxious lady, who would rather have lost her life than that the whole town should know that the brightest mirror of all maiden virtue had been dimmed and breathed upon4.
He now pledged his word of honour that he would keep her secret, and conceal her from all the world until she felt able to appear in public again. It would be reported that she was ill, and under the plea of receiving more careful attendance, she was to live at the doctor’s house, and break off every other communication.
The gift of the country-house was duly & legally executed. They moved immediately and Aunt Mary gave up all her business interests. The maiden matron became invisible. No one was allowed to wait on her, except Susan, who had been told of the secret.
The winter passed and was succeeded by spring. The warm days of summer were approaching. Doctor Falcon very soon obtained the conviction that his aunt had little cause to worry about her health. He had told her so, and explained to her the real nature of her illness in vain. Aunt Mary would on no account be undeceived. Susan and her husband were finally obliged to desist from every attempt to dispel her ridiculous illusions of a pregnancy, as Aunt Mary threatened that she should begin to doubt the doctor’s friendship. She seldom left her bed.
“She makes me uneasy,” said Susan to her husband.
“It is hypochondria, a fixed idea,” said the doctor. “My medicine is of no avail against the extravagancies of her imagination. I know of nothing I can do, unless it be to drive away one fancy by substituting another. But I have an idea.”
It then happened that Susan stopped visiting Aunt Sarah’s room. Then the aunt was informed that Susan had had a misfortune.
“Has the child been born dead?” inquired Sarah.
“Alas!” replied the doctor.
“Alas!” rejoined the aunt.
One day not long after and before daybreak, Aunt Sarah was awakened in an unusual manner. Her face was sprinkled with water, and strong scents were held to her nose. She opened her eyes, and saw the doctor.
“Righteous Heaven! I am dying! You are killing me! Nephew, nephew, what are you doing to my nose?”
“Hush, aunt, don’t speak a word!” said the doctor with a mysterious look, “only tell me how you feel yourself.”
“Tolerably well, nephew.”
“You have been unconscious for four hours, aunt. I was uneasy for your life. But it’s all right now, you are saved. A lovely child …”
“How!” exclaimed Sarah, rubbing her nose.
“A sweet little boy. Do you wish to see the pretty fellow? If you will keep yourself quiet, and not move, why …”
“But, nephew …”
“I have passed it off upon everyone in the house as my wife’s child.”
“Oh, nephew! thank you for your prudence, your assistance, and your counsel! It is a blue wonder!”
Aunt Sarah trembled all over with joy as a woman brought in the baby, it was sleeping. Sarah spoke not a word, but looked at it long, wept bitterly, and kissed the little creature again and again. When it had been carried away, she whispered to the doctor, “He is the living picture of the trumpeter to the French regiment. God be merciful to him!”
After the prescribed number of weeks of rest, Sarah perfectly recovered her spirits and moved about the house more cheerful and active than she had been for many years before. She hugged the baby and evidently doted on it with unbounded tenderness. She had been successfully cured of one ridiculous illusion, by one yet more ridiculous.
Overflowing with gratitude, Aunt Sarah’s first visit out of the house was to the church, and thence she proceeded to a lawyer to execute a deed of her whole fortune to Doctor Falcon, reserving for herself only a large annuity by way of pocket-money and a trust for the baby.
In this way, the blue wonders of Miss Sarah Bugle suddenly converted our Doctor Falcon into a rich man. The triumph of the medical profession was irrevocably confirmed. Then did law, theology, and philosophy furiously rage against each other. They could not forgive one another for the loss of the expected legacy. Doctor Falcon was readily excused, for he was innocent. With him, all parties were ready to renew a friendly intercourse, for he was now one of the wealthiest men in the town.
This story was written by Heinrich Zschokke. The translator is unknown. It was originally published in 1837, then revised and updated by K.J. Wilsdon in 2025.
The Guilder was the currency in Austria during most of the 19th century.
“In the family way” means that you are pregnant. It was considered rude and embarrassing to talk about pregnancy, so even doctors used euphemisms.
The ducat coin was used as a trade coin in Europe from the later Middle Ages until the 19th century. Its most familiar version, the gold ducat or sequin contained around 3.5 grams of 98.6% fine gold, and gained wide international acceptance over the centuries.
To lose one’s reputation in Victorian England was a terrible fate, especially for women who were held to higher standards than men. Aunt Sarah would have lost all her friends, and even the tradespeople would have ignored her. As a wealthy lady, if it was known that she had married a humble trumpeter it would have been enough to ruin her. But to be pregnant as well, would have ensured social ruin.
It is a curious story. By the way, this was a time in the 18th century, a period of Romanticism, as depicted in the sad Blue Flower. But this Blue Wonder is a more practical reality.