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THREE SUNDAYS IN
A WEEK.
 "YOU hard-hearted,
dunder-headed, obstinate, rusty,
crusty, musty,
fusty,
old savage!" said I, in fancy, one afternoon, to my grand uncle
Rumgudgeon — shaking my fist at him in imagination.Only in imagination. The fact is, some trivial
discrepancy did
exist,
just then, between what I said and what I had not the courage to say —
between what I did and what I had half a mind to do.The old porpoise, as I opened the drawing-room door,
was
sitting
with
his feet upon the mantel-piece, and a bumper of port in his paw, making
strenuous efforts to accomplish the ditty.
"My dear uncle," said I, closing the door
gently, and
approaching
him
with the blandest of smiles, "you are always so very kind and
considerate,
and have evinced your benevolence in so many — so very many
ways —
that — that I feel I have only to suggest this little point to you once
more
to make sure of your full acquiescence." "Hem!" said he, "good boy! go on!" "I am sure, my dearest uncle, [you confounded old
rascal!] that you
have no design really, seriously, to oppose my union with Kate. This is
merely a joke of yours, I know — ha! ha! ha! — how very
pleasant you
are at times.""Ha! ha! ha!" said he, "curse you! yes!" "To be sure — of course! I knew you were jesting.
Now,
uncle, all
that
Kate and myself wish at present, is that you would oblige us with your
advice as — as regards the time — you know, uncle — in
short, when
will
it be most convenient for yourself, that the wedding shall — shall —
come
off, you know?" "Come off, you scoundrel! — what do you mean by
that? — Better
wait
till it goes on." "Ha! ha! ha! — he! he! he! — hi! hi! hi! — ho! ho!
ho! — hu! hu!
hu! — oh, that's good! — oh, that's capital — such a wit! But
all we
want
just now, you know, uncle, is that you would indicate the
time precisely." "Ah! — precisely?" "Yes, uncle — that is, if it would be quite
agreeable
to yourself." "Would'nt it answer, Bobby, if I were to leave it at
random — some
time within a year or so, for example? — must I say precisely?"
"If you please, uncle — precisely." "Well, then, Bobby, my boy — you're a fine fellow,
are'nt [page 294:] you? —
since
you will have the exact time, I'll — why I'll oblige you for
once." "Dear uncle!" "Hush, sir!" [drowning my voice] — I'll oblige you
for
once. You
shall
have my consent — and the plum, we mus'nt forget the plum — let
me
see!
when shall it be? To-day's Sunday — is'nt it? Well, then, you shall be
married precisely — precisely, now mind! — when three
Sundays come
together
in a week! Do you hear me, sir! What are you gaping at? I
say, you
shall
have Kate and her plum when three Sundays come together in a week —
but
not till then — you young scapegrace — not till then,
if I die
for
it.
You know me — I'm a man of my word — now be off!" Here he
swallowed
his
bumper of port, while I rushed from the room in despair. A very "fine old English gentleman," was my
grand-uncle
Rumgudgeon,
but unlike him of the song, he had his weak points. He was a little,
pursy,
pompous, passionate, semicircular somebody, with a red nose, a thick
skull, a long purse, and a strong sense of his own
consequence. With the
best heart in the world, he contrived, through a predominant whim of contradiction,
to earn for himself, among those who only knew him superficially, the
character
of a curmudgeon. Like many excellent people, he seemed possessed with a
spirit of tantalization, which might easily, at a casual
glance, have
been
mistaken for malevolence. To every request, a positive "No!" was his
immediate
answer; but in the end — in the long, long end — there were
exceedingly
few requests which he refused. Against all attacks upon his purse he
made
the most sturdy defence; but the amount extorted from him, at last was
generally in direct ratio with the length of the siege and the
stubbornness
of the resistance. In charity no one gave more liberally or with a
worse
grace. For the fine arts, and especially for the
belles[[-]]lettres, he
entertained
a profound contempt. With this he had been inspired by Casimir Perier,
whose pert little query "A quoi un poete est il bon?" he was in
the
habit
of quoting, with a very droll pronunciation, as the ne plus ultra
of
logical
wit. Thus my own inkling for the Muses had excited his entire
displeasure.
He assured me one day, when I asked him for a new copy of Horace, that
the translation of "Poeta nascitur non fit" was [["]]a nasty
poet
for
nothing
fit" — a remark which I took in high dudgeon. His repugnance to "the
humanities"
had, also, much increased of late, by an accidental bias in favor of
what
he supposed to be natural science. Somebody had accosted him in the
street,
mistaking him for no less a personage than Doctor Dubble L. Dee, the
lecturer
upon quack physics. This set him off at a tangent; and just at the
epoch
of this story — for story it is getting to be after all — my
grand[[-]]uncle
Rumgudgeon was accessible and pacific only upon points which happened
to
chime in with the caprioles of the hobby he was riding. For the rest,
he
laughed with his arms and legs, and his politics were stubborn and
easily
understood. He thought, with Horsley, that "the people have nothing to
do with the laws but to obey them." I had lived with the old gentleman all my life. My
parents, in
dying,
had bequeathed me to him as a rich legacy. I believe the old villain
loved
me as his own child — nearly if not quite as well as he loved Kate —
but it was a dog's existence that he led me, after
all. From my first
year
until my fifth, he obliged me with very regular floggings. From five to
fifteen, he threatened me, hourly, with the House of Correction. From
fifteen
to twenty, not a day passed in which he did not promise to cut me off
with
a shilling. I was a sad dog, it is true — but then it was a part of my
nature — a point of my faith. In Kate, however, I had a firm friend,
and
I knew it. She was a good girl, and told me very sweetly that I might
have
her (plum and all) whenever I could badger my grand[[-]]uncle
Rumgudgeon,
into
the necessary consent. Poor girl! — she was barely fifteen, and
without
this consent, her little amount in the funds was not come-at-able until
five immeasurable summers had "dragged their slow length along." What,
then, to do? At fifteen, or even at twenty-one (for I had now passed my
fifth olympiad) five years in prospect are very much the same as five
hundred.
In vain we besieged the old gentleman with importunities. Here was a piece
de resistance (as Messieurs Ude and Careme [[Carême]] would
say) which suited
his
perverse fancy to a T. It would have stirred the indignation of Job
himself,
to see how much like an old mouser he behaved to us two poor wretched
little
mice. In his heart he wished for nothing more ardently than our union.
He had made up his mind to this [column 2:] all along. In fact,
he would have given
ten thousand pounds from his own pocket (Kate's plum was her own)
if he
could have invented anything like an excuse for complying with our
very
natural wishes. But then we had been so imprudent as to broach the
subject ourselves. Not to oppose it under such
circumstances, I sincerely
believe
was not in his power. I have said already that he had his weak points; but,
in
speaking of
these, I must not be understood as referring to his obstinacy: that
was
one of his strong points — "assurement ce n'etait pas sa foible."
When
I mention his weakness I have allusion to a bizarre
old-womanish
superstition
which beset him. He was great in dreams, portents, et id genus omne
of
rigmarole. He was excessively punctilious, too, upon small points of
honor,
and, after his own fashion, was a man of his word, beyond doubt. This
was,
in fact, one of his hobbies. The spirit of his vows he made no
scruple
of setting at naught, but the letter was a bond inviolable. Now
it was
this latter peculiarity in his disposition, of which
Kate's ingenuity
enabled
us one fine day, not long after our interview in the dining-room, to
take
a very unexpected advantage; and, having thus, in the fashion of all
modern
bards and orators, exhausted in prolegomena, all the time at my
command,
and nearly all the room at my disposal, I will sum up in a few words
what
constitutes the whole pith of the story. It happened then — so the Fates ordered it — that
among the naval
acquaintances of my betrothed, were two gentlemen who had just set foot
upon the shores of England, after a year's absence, each, in foreign
travel.
In company with these gentlemen, my cousin and I, preconcertedly paid,
uncle
Rumgudgeon a visit on the afternoon of Sunday, October the tenth, —
just
three weeks after the memorable decision which had so cruelly defeated
our hopes. For about half an hour the conversation ran upon ordinary
topics;
but at last, we contrived, quite naturally, to give it the following
turn: Capt. Pratt. "Well I have been absent just
one year. Just one
year
to-day, as I live — let me see! yes! — this is October the tenth. You
remember, Mr. Rumgudgeon, I called, this day year, to bid you good-bye.
And by the way, it does seem something like a coincidence, does
it not
— that our friend, Captain Smitherton, here, has been absent exactly a
year also — a year to-day?" Smitherton. "Yes! just one year to a
fraction. You will
remember,
Mr.
Rumgudgeon, that I called with Capt. Pratol [[Pratt]] on this very day,
last
year,
to pay my parting respects." Uncle. "Yes, yes, yes — I remember it very
well — very
queer
indeed!
Both of you gone just one year. A very strange coincidence, indeed!
Just
what Doctor Dubble L. Dee would denominate an extraordinary concurrence
of events. Doctor Dub —" Kate. (Interrupting.) "To be sure, papa, it is
something
strange;
but
then Captain Pratt and Captain Smitherton didn't go alttogether
[[altogether]] the same
route, and that makes a difference you know." Uncle. "I don't know any such thing, you
huzzy! How
should I? I
think
it only makes the matter more remarkable. Doctor Dubble L. Dee" — Kate. "Why, papa, Captain Pratt went round
Cape Horn, and
Captain
Smitherton
doubled the Cape of Good Hope."Uncle. "Precisely! — the one went east and
the other
went west, you
jade, and they both have gone quite round the world. By the by, Doctor
Dubble L. Dee" — Myself, (hurriedly.) "Captain Pratt,
you must come and
spend the
evening
with us to-morrow — you and Smitherton — you can tell us all about
your
voyage, and we'll have a game of whist and" — Pratt. "Whist, my dear fellow — you forget.
To-morrow
will be
Sunday.
Some other evening" — Kate. "Oh, no. fie! — Robert's not quite
so bad as
that. To-day's
Sunday." Uncle. "To be sure — to be sure!"Pratt. "I beg both your pardon's [[pardons]] — but I
can't be so
much mistaken.
I know to-morrow's Sunday, because" —Smitherton, (much surprised.) "What are
you all thinking
about?
Was'nt yesterday, Sunday, I should like to know?" All. "Yesterday, indeed! you are out!" Uncle. "To-day's Sunday, I say — don't I
know?" Pratt. "Oh no! — to-morrow's Sunday." Smitherton. "You are all mad — every one of
you. I am
[page 295:] as positive
that
yesterday was Sunday, as I am that I sit upon this chair." Kate, (jumping up eagerly.) "I see it
— I see it all.
Papa, this is
a judgment upon you, about — about you know what. Let me alone, and
I'll
explain it all in a minute. It's a very simple thing, indeed. Captain
Smitherton
says that yesterday was Sunday: so it was; he is right. Cousin Bobby,
and
uncle and I, say that to-day is Sunday: so it is; we are right. Captain
Pratt maintains that to-morrow will be Sunday: so it will; he is right,
too. The fact is, we are all right, and thus three Sundays have
come
together
in a week." Smitherton, (after a pause.) "By the
by, Pratt, Kate has
us
completely.
What fools we two are! Mr. Rumgudgeon, the matter stands thus: the
earth,
you know, is twenty-four thousand miles in circumference. Now this
globe
of the earth turns upon its own axis — revolves — spins round — these
twenty-four thousand miles of extent, going from west to east, in
precisely
twenty-four hours. Do you understand, Mr. Rumgudgeon?"Uncle. "To be sure — to be sure — Doctor
Dub" —Smitherton, (drowning his voice.)
"Well, sir; that is at
the rate of
one thousand miles per hour. Now, suppose that I sail from this
position
a thousand miles east. Of course, I anticipate the rising of the sun
here
at London, by just one hour. I see the sun rise one hour before you do.
Proceeding, in the same direction, yet another thousand miles, I
anticipate
the rising by two hours — another thousand, and I anticipate it by
three
hours, and so on, until I go entirely round the globe, and back to this
spot, when, having gone twenty-four thousand miles east, I anticipate
the
rising of the London sun by no less than twenty-four hours; that is to
say, I am a day in advance of your time. Understand, eh?" Uncle. "But Double L. Dee" —Smitherton, (speaking very loud.) "Captain
Pratt, on the
contrary,
when
he had sailed a thousand miles west of this position, was an hour, and
when he had sailed twenty-four thousand miles west, was twenty-four
hours,
or one day, behind the time at London. Thus, with me, yesterday
was
Sunday — thus, with you, to-day is Sunday — and thus, with Pratt,
to-morrow
will be Sunday. And what is more, Mr. Rumgudgeon, it is positively
clear
that we are all right; for there can be no philosophical reason
assigned
why the idea of one of us should have preference over that of the
other." Uncle. "My eyes! — well, Kate — well, Bobby!
— this is a judgment
upon me, as you say. But I am a man of my word — mark that! you
shall
have her, boy (plum and all,) when you please. Done up, by Jove! Three
Sundays all in a row! I'll go, and take Dubble L. Dee's opinion upon that."EDGAR A. POE.
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