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[Illustration: Charles Burke]
Charles Burke
This is the history of the evolution of a play. Many hands were concerned in its growth, but its increase in scenic effect as well as in dialogue was a stage one, rather than prompted by literary fervour. No dramatization of Washington Irving's immortal story has approached the original in art of expression or in vividness of scene. But, if historical record can be believed, it is the actor, rather than the dramatist, who has vied with Irving in the vitality of characterization and in the romantic ideality of figure and speech. Some of our best comedians found attraction in the r�le, yet, though Charles Burke and James A. Herne are recalled, by those who remember back so far, for the very Dutch lifelikeness of the genial old drunkard, Joseph Jefferson overtops all memories by his classic portrayal.
As far as literary value of the versions is concerned, it would
be small loss if none of them were available. They form a
mechanical frame-work as devoid of beauty as the skeleton
scarecrow in Percy Mackaye's play, which was based on Hawthorne's
Feathertop
in Mosses from an Old Manse.
It
was only when the dry bones were clothed and breathed into by
the actor's personality that the dramatizations lived. One
can recall no plot that moves naturally in these versions; the
transformation of the story into dialogue was mechanical, done
by men to whom hack-work was the easiest thing in the world.
Comparing the Kerr play with the Burke revision of it, when the
text is strained for richness of phrase it might contain, only one
line results, and is worth remembering; it is Burke's original
contribution,—Are we so soon forgot when we are gone?
The frequency with which Rip Van Winkle
was dramatized
would indicate that, very early in the nineteenth century,
managers of the theatre were assiduous hunters after material
which might be considered native. Certainly Rip takes his place
with Deuteronomy Dutiful, Bardwell Slote, Solon Shingle and
Davy Crockett as of the soil.
Irving's Sketch Book
was published in 1819, and, considering
his vast interest in the stage, and the dramatic work done by
Rip
caught fire on the
stage both in America and in London. Mr. James K. Hackett
is authority for the statement that among his father's papers is
a letter from Irving congratulating him upon having made so
much from such scant material.
The legendary character of Irving's sources, as traced in German
folk-lore, does not come within the scope of this introduction.
The first record of a play is Thomas Flynn's appearance as Rip
in a dramatization made by an unnamed Albanian, at the South
Pearl Street Theatre, Albany, N. Y., May 26, 1828. It was
given for the benefit of the actor's wife, and was called Rip
Van Winkle; or, The Spirits of the Catskill Mountains.
Notice
of it may be found in the files of the Albany Argus. Winter, in
his Life of Joseph Jefferson, reproduces the prologue. Part of
the cast was as follows:
Flynn was a great friend of the elder Booth, and Edwin bore Thomas as a middle name.
In 1829, Charles B. Parsons was playing Rip
in Cincinnati,
Ohio, but no authorship is mentioned in connection with it,
so it must be inferred that it was probably one of those stock
products so characteristic of the early American theatre. Ludlow,
in his Dramatic Life,
records Rip
in Louisville, Kentucky,
November 21, 1831, and says that the Cincinnati performance
occurred three years before, making it, therefore, in
the dramatic season of 1828–29, this being Rip's first representation
West of the Alleghany Mountains, and, I believe, the first
time on any stage.
Ludlow proceeds to state that, while in
New York, in the summer of 1828, an old stage friend of his
offered to sell him a manuscript version of Rip,
which, on his
recommendation, he proceeded to purchase without reading
And then the manager indicates how a character part is
built to catch the interest of the audience, by the following bit
of anecdote:
It passed off there [in Cincinnati] without appearing to create any interest more than a drama on any ordinary subject, with the exception of one speech, which was not the author's, but introduced without my previous knowledge by one of the actors in the piece. This actor was a young gentleman of education, who was performing on the stage under the name of Barry; but that was not his real name, and he was acting the part ofNicholas Vedderin this drama. In the scene whereRipreturns to his native village after the twenty years of sleep that he had passed through, and finds the objects changed from what he remembered them,—among other things the sign over the door of the tavern where he used to take his drinks,—he enquires ofVedder, whom he had recognized, and to whom he had made himself known, who that sign was intended to represent, saying at the same time that the head of King George III used to hang there. In reply to him, instead of speaking the words of the author, Mr. Barry said,Don't you know who that is? That's George Washington.ThenRipsaid,Who is George Vashingdoner?To which Barry replied, using the language of General Henry (see hisEulogy on Washington,December 26, 1799),He was first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen!This woke the Cincinnatians up.
Joseph Jefferson rejected this emendation later on, giving as his reason that, once an audience is caught in the flare of a patriotic emotion, it is difficult for an actor to draw them back effectively to the main currents of his story. We have Ludlow's statement to the effect that Burke's version was not unlike that produced by him as early as 1828–29, in the middle West. Could it have had any relationship to the manuscript by Kerr?
In Philadelphia, at the Walnut Street Theatre, on October 30,
1829, William Chapman appeared as Rip, supported by Elizabeth
and J. (probably John) Jefferson. Winter suggests that the
dramatization may have been Ludlow's, or it may have been the
first draft of Kerr's. Though it is generally conceded that the
latter play was the one used by James H. Hackett, in a letter
received by the Editor from Mr. James K. Hackett, it is suggested
that his father made his own version, a statement not proved,
but substantiated by Winter.
The piece was given by Hackett, at the Park Theatre, New
York, on August 22, 1830, and Sol Smith, in his Theatrical
declares, I should despair
of finding a man or woman in an audience of five hundred, who
could hear [his] utterance of five words in the second act,
While the But
she was mine vrow
without experiencing some moisture in the
eyes.Galaxy, in a later year, for February, 1868,
states: His
The statement,
by Oliver Bell Bunce, is followed by this stricture against
Jefferson: Rip Van Winkle is far nearer the ordinary conception
of the good-for-nothing Dutchman than Mr. Jefferson's, whose
performance is praised so much for its naturalness.Jefferson, indeed, is a good example of our modern
art. His naturalness, his unaffected methods, his susceptible
temperament, his subtleties of humour and pathos are appreciated
and applauded, yet his want of breadth and tone sometimes
renders his performance feeble and flavourless.
On the day before
its presentment by Hackett, the New York Evening Post
contained the following notice:
Park Theatre, Mr. Hackett's Benefit. Thursday, 22d inst. First night of Rip Van Winkle and second night of Down East.—Mr. Hackett has the pleasure of announcing to his friends and the public that his Benefit is fixed for Thursday next, 22d inst., when will be produced for the first time the new drama ofRip Van Winkle; or, The Legend of the Kaatskill Mountains—(founded on Washington Irving's celebrated tale calledRip Van Winkle)—with appropriate Dutch costumes; the River and Mountain scenery painted by Mr. Evers, all of which will be particularly described in the bills of the day.—Principal characters—Rip Van Winkle, Mr. Hackett;Knickerbocker, Mr. Placide;Vedder, Mr. Chapman;Van Slous, Mr. Blakely;Herman, Mr. Richings;Dame Rip Van Winkle, Mrs. Wheatley;Alice, Mrs. Hackett;Lowenna, Mrs. Wallack.
Durang refers to the dramatist who is reputed to have done
the version for Mr. Hackett, as Old Mr. Kerr,
an actor, who
appeared in Philadelphia under the management of F. C.
Wemyss. However much of an actor John Kerr was, he must
have gained some small reputation as a playwright. In 1818,
Duncombe issued Kerr's Ancient Legends or Simple and
Romantic Tales,
and at the Harvard Library, where there is
a copy of this book, the catalogue gives Kerr's position in London
at the time as Prompter of the Regency Theatre. He must have
ventured, with a relative, into independent publishing, for there
was issued, in 1826, by J. & H. Kerr, the former's freely translated
melodramatic romance, The Monster and Magician; or,
taken from the French of J. T.
Merle and A. N. B�raud. He did constant translation, and it is
interesting to note the similarity between his The Wandering
Boys! or, The Castle of Olival,
announced as an original
comedy, and M. M. Noah's play of the same name.
There is valuable material in possession of Mr. James K. Hackett for a much needed life of his father. This may throw light on his negotiations with Kerr; it may also detail more thoroughly than the records now show why it was that, when he went to England in 1832, he engaged Bayle Bernard to make a new draft of the piece, given in New York at the Park Theatre, September 4, 1833. It may have been because he saw, when he reached London, a version which Bernard had shaped for the Adelphi Theatre, 1831–32, when Yates, John Reeve, and J. B. Buckstone had played together. But I am inclined to think that, whatever the outlines of the piece as given by Hackett, it was his acting which constituted the chief creative part of the performance. Like Jefferson, he must have been largely responsible for the finished product.
Hackett's success in dialect made him eager for any picturesque
material which would exploit this ability. Obviously, local
character was the best vehicle. That was his chief interest in
encouraging American plays. Bayle Bernard had done writing
for him before Rip.
In 1831, J. K. Paulding's The Lion of the
West
had proven so successful, as to warrant Bernard's transferring
the popular Col. Nimrod Wildfire to another play,
The Kentuckian.
Then, in 1837, Hackett corresponded with
Washington Irving about dramatizing the Knickerbocker
History,
which plan was consummated by Bernard as Three
Dutch Governors,
even though Irving was not confident of
results. Hackett went out of his way for such native material.
Soon after his appearance as Rip, the following notice appeared
in the New York Evening Post, for April 24, 1830:
Prize Comedy.—The Subscriber, desirous of affording some pecuniary inducement for more frequent attempts at dramatizing the manners and peculiarities of our own country, and the numerous subjects and incidents connected with its history, hereby offers to the writer of the best Comedy in 3 acts, in which a principal character shall be an original of this country, the sum of Two Hundred and Fifty Dollars—the decision to be made by a committee of competent literary gentlemen, whose names shall duly be made public.The manuscripts to be sent to the address of the subscriber through the Post Office, before 1st September, next,each accompanied with a letter communicating the address to which the author would desire his production returned, if unsuccessful, together with hisnamein asealed enclosure, which will only be opened in the event of his obtaining the Prize.Jas. H. Hackett, 64 Reed Street, New York
Many such prize contests were the fashion of the day.
Mr. James K. Hackett, in reminiscence, writes: My mother
used to tell me that Joe Jefferson played the part like a German,
whereas
Rip was a North River Dutchman, and in those days
dialects were very marked in our country. But my father soon
became identified with the part of Falstaff, and he used to say,
Jefferson is a younger man than I, so I'll let him have
.Rip. I
don't care to play against him
A stage version of the Irving story was made by one John H.
Hewitt, of Baltimore, and during the season of 1833–34 was
played in that city by William Isherwood. It was after this
that Charles Burke (1822–1854) turned his attention to the play,
and, as is shown in the text here reproduced, drew heavily upon
Kerr. Winter says that he depended also upon the dramatic
pieces used by Flynn and Parsons. The date of the first essayal
of the part in New York was January 7, 1850, at the New National
Theatre. But, during the previous year, he went with the
play to the Philadelphia Arch Street Theatre, where his half-brother,
Joseph, appeared with him in the r�le of Seth. Durang,
however, disagrees with this date, giving it under the heading
of the Summer Season of 1850 at the Arch Street Theatre,
and the specific time as August 19. In his short career Burke
won an enviable position as an actor. He had an eye and a
face,
wrote Joe Jefferson, that told their meaning before he
spoke, a voice that seemed to come from the heart itself, penetrating—but
melodious.
He was slender, emaciated, sensitive,—and
full of lively response to things. Like all of the Jeffersons,
he was a born comedian, and critics concede that W. E. Burton
feared his rivalry. Between Burke and his half-brother, there
was a profound attraction; they had barn stormed
together,
and through Burke's consideration it was that Joe was first
encouraged and furthered in Philadelphia. Contrasting Burton
and Burke, Jefferson wrote in his Autobiography:
Burton coloured highly, and laid on the effects with a liberal brush, while Burke was subtle, incisive and refined. Burton's features were strong and heavy, and his figure was portly and ungainly. Burke was lithe and graceful. His face was plain, but wonderfully expressive. The versatility of this rare actor was remarkable, his pathos being quite as striking a feature as his comedy. … His dramatic effects sprung more from intuition than from study; and, as was said of Barton Booth,the blind might have seen him in his voice, and the deaf have heard him in his visage.
But the height of Jefferson's praise was reached when he said:
Charles Burke was to acting what Mendelssohn was to music.
He did not have to work for his effects, as I do; he was not
analytical, as I am. Whatever he did came to him naturally,
as grass grows or water runs; it was not talent that informed his
art, but genius.
Such was the comedian who next undertook the r�le of Rip.
How often his own phrase, Are we so soon forgot,
has been
applied to the actor and his art! The only preservative we have
of this art is either in individual expressions of opinion or else
in contemporary criticism. Fortunately, John Sleeper Clarke,
another estimable comedian of the Jefferson family, has left an
impression of how Burke read that one famous line of his.
He has said:
No other actor has ever disturbed the impression that the profound pathos of Burke's voice, face, and gesture created; it fell upon the senses like the culmination of all mortal despair, and the actor's figure, as the low, sweet tones died away, symbolized more the ruin of the representative of the race than the sufferings of an individual: his awful loss and loneliness seemed to clothe him with a supernatural dignity and grandeur which commanded the sympathy and awe of his audience.
Never, said Clarke, who often played Seth to Burke's Rip,
was he disappointed in the poignant reading of that line—so
tender, pathetic and simple that even the actors of his company
were affected by it.
However much these various attempts at dramatization may
have served their theatrical purpose, they have all been supplanted
in memory by the play as evolved by Jefferson and
Boucicault, who began work upon it in 1861. The incident told
by Jefferson of how he arrived by his decision to play Rip, as
his father had done before him, is picturesque. One summer day,
Life and
Letters of Washington Irving,
and his eye fell upon this passage:
September 30, 1858. Mr. Irving came in town, to remain a few days. In the evening went to Laura Keene's Theatre to see young Jefferson asGoldfinchin Holcroft's comedy,The Road to Ruin.Thought Jefferson, the father, one of the best actors he had ever seen; and the son reminded him, in look, gesture, size, andmake,of the father. Had never seen the father inGoldfinch, but was delighted with the son.
This incident undoubtedly whetted the interest of Joseph
Jefferson, and he set about preparing his version. He had
played in his half-brother's, and had probably seen Hackett in
Kerr's. All that was needed, therefore, was to evolve something
which would be more ideal, more ample in opportunity for the
exercise of his particular type of genius. So he turned to the
haven at all times of theatrical need, Dion Boucicault, and talked
over with him the ideas that were fulminating in his brain. Clark
Davis has pointed out that in the Jefferson Rip
the credits
should thus be measured:
King Lear.
But, however the credit is distributed, Jefferson alone made the
play as it lives in the memories of those who saw it. It grew by
what it fed on, by accretions of rich imagination. Often times,
Jefferson was scored for his glorification of the drunkard. He and
Boucicault were continually discussing how best to circumvent
the disagreeable aspects of Rip's character. Even Winter
and J. Rankin Towse are inclined to frown at the reprobate,
especially by the side of Jefferson's interpretation of Bob Acres
or of Caleb Plummer. There is no doubt that, in their collaboration,
Boucicault and Jefferson had many arguments about
Rip.
Boucicault has left a record of the encounters:
Let us return to 1865,he wrote.Jefferson was anxious to appear in London. All his pieces had been played there. The managers would not give him an appearance unless he could offer them a new play. He had a piece calledRip Van Winkle, but when submitted for their perusal, they rejected it. Still he was sodesirous of playing Ripthat I took down Washington Irving's story and read it over. It was hopelessly undramatic.Joe, I said,this old sot is not a pleasant figure. He lacks romance. I dare say you made a fine sketch of the old beast, but there is no interest in him. He may be picturesque, but he is not dramatic. I would prefer to start him in a play as a young scamp, thoughtless, gay, just such a curly-head, good-humoured fellow as all the village girls would love, and the children and dogs would run after. Jefferson threw up his hands in despair. It was totally opposed to his artistic preconception. But I insisted, and he reluctantly conceded. Well, I wrote the play as he plays it now. It was not much of a literary production, and it was with some apology that it was handed to him. He read it, and when he met me, I said:It is a poor thing, Joe.Well, he replied,it is good enough for me. It was produced. Three or four weeks afterward he called on me, and his first words were:You were right about making.Ripa young man. Now I could not conceive and play him in any other shape
When finished, the manuscript was read to Ben Webster, the
manager of the Haymarket Theatre, London, and to Charles
Reade, the collaborator, with Boucicault, in so many plays.
Then the company heard it, after which Jefferson proceeded to
study it, literally living and breathing the part. Many are the
humourous records of the play as preserved in the Jefferson
Autobiography
and in the three books on Jefferson by Winter
Frances Wilson and Euphemia Jefferson.
On the evening of September 4, 1865, at the London Adelphi,
the play was given. Accounts of current impressions are extant
by Pascoe and Oxenford. It was not seen in New York until
September 3, 1866, when it began a run at the Olympic, and it did
not reach Boston until May 3, 1869. From the very first, it was
destined to be Jefferson's most popular r�le. His royalties, as
time progressed, were fabulous, or rather his profits, for actor,
manager, and author were all rolled into one. He deserted a large
repertory of parts as the years passed and his strength declined.
But to the very end he never deserted Rip. At his death the
play passed to his son, Thomas. The Jefferson version has been
published with an interpretative introduction by him.
When it was first given, the play was scored for the apparent
padding of the piece in order to keep Jefferson longer on the
stage. The supernatural elements could not hoodwink the
critics, but, as Jefferson added humanity to the part, and created
a poetic, lovable character, the play was greatly strengthened.
A LEGEND OF THE CATSKILLS
A ROMANTIC DRAMA IN TWO ACTS
ADAPTED FROM WASHINGTON IRVING'S SKETCH BOOK
By
[It is common knowledge that Rip Van Winkle,
as a play,
was a general mixture of several versions when it finally reached
the hands of Joseph Jefferson. From Kerr to Burke, from Burke
to Boucicault, from Boucicault to Jefferson was the progress.
The changes made by Burke in the Kerr version are so interesting,
and the similarities are so close, that the Editor has thought
it might be useful to make an annotated comparison of the two.
This has been done, with the result that the reader is given two
plays in one. The title-page of the Kerr acting edition runs as
follows: Rip Van Winkle; A Legend of Sleepy Hollow. A
Romantic Drama in Two Acts. Adapted from Washington Irving's
Sketch-Book by John Kerr, Author of
The
Burke version, used here as a basis, follows the acting text, without
stage positions, published by Samuel French. An opera on
the subject of Therese
, Presumptive
Guilt
, Wandering Boys
, Michael and Christine
, Drench'd
and Dried
, Robert Bruce
, &c., &c. With Some Alterations, by
Thomas Hailes Lacy. Theatrical Publisher. London.Rip Van Winkle,
the libretto written by Wainwright,
was presented at Niblo's Garden, New York, by the
Pyne and Harrison Troupe, Thursday, September 27, 1855.
There was given, during the season of 1919–20, by the Chicago
Opera Association, Rip Van Winkle: A Folk Opera,
with
music by Reginald de Kovan and libretto by Percy Mackaye,
the score to be published by G. Schirmer. New York.]
First performed at the West London Theatre (under the management of Mr. Beverley).
RIP VAN WINKLE
A Legend of the Sleepy Hollow.
CHARACTERS
ACT I. 1763
Act II. 1783.
CAST OF THE CHARACTERS
First dress:—A deerskin coat and belt, full brown breeches,
deerskin gaiters, cap. Second dress:—Same, but much worn
and ragged.
First dress:—Brown square cut coat, vest and
breeches, shoes and buckles. Second dress:—Black coat,
breeches, hose, &c.
powder.
First dress:—Ibid. Second dress:—Black frock coat,
tight pants, boots and tassels.
First dress:—Bodice, with half skirt, figured petticoat.
Second dress:—Brown satin bodice and skirt, &c.
A Village.—House, with a sign of George III.
—Two
or three tables.—Villagers discovered, smoking. at table. Chorus at rise of
curtain.
CHORUS.
SOLO.
CHORUS.
Neighbour Clausen, on your way hither, saw you anything of our friend, Rip Van Winkle? Where there's a cup of good liquor to be shared, he's sure to be on hand—a thirsty soul.
Truly, the man that turns up his nose at good liquor is a fool, as we Dutchmen have it; but cut no jokes on Rip; remember, I'm soon to be a member of his family: and any insult offered to him, I shall resent in the singular number, and satisfaction must follow, as the Frenchmen have it.
So, Knickerbocker, you are really determined to marry Rip's sister, the pretty Alice?
Yes, determined to be a prisoner in Hymen's chains, as the lovers have it. I've got Rip's consent, I've got Alice's consent, and I've got my own consent.
But have you got the dame's consent, eh?
There I'm dished and done up brown; would you believe it? she calls me a long, scraggy, outlandish animal, and that I look like two deal boards glued together!
Here comes Alice, and with her, Rip's daughter.
Enter with
Come along, loiterer! Woe betide us when we get home, for having tarried so long! What will the dame say?
Well, it's not my fault, for you have been up and down the lane a dozen times, looking for the schoolmaster, Knickerbocker.
Hold your tongue, Miss, it's no such thing.
You know you love him.
How do you know that, Miss Pert?
I can see it; and seeing is believing, they say. Oh, you're monstrous jealous of him, you know you are.
Jealous! I, jealous of him? No, indeed, I never wish to see his ugly face again.
Say not so, sweet blossom of the valley, for in that case I shall shoot myself in despair.
Oh, don't think of such a thing, for then your ghost might haunt me.
And I'm sure you would rather have him than his ghost, wouldn't you, Alice?
That's a very smart child. But Alice, sweet Alice, can't I drop in this evening, when the old folks are out of the way?
Not for the world; if the dame were to find you in the house, I don't know what would happen.
Don't you know, Alice, mammy always goes out
for an hour in the evening, to see her neighbour, Dame Wrigrim;
now, if you [To
That's an uncommon clever girl; but, Alice, I'm determined to turn over a new leaf with Dame Van Winkle; the next time I see her, I'll pluck up [my] courage and say to her—
[Without.] Alice! Alice! odds bodikins and pins, but
I'll give it you when I catch you.
Run, Alice, run!
[and run to right.
[Without.] Alice!
[and exeunt hastily.
Egad! the dame's tongue is a perfect scarecrow!
The sound of her voice sets them running just as if
she were one of the mountain spirits, of whom we hear so much
talk. [But where the deuce can Rip be all this while? [sings
without.] But talk of the devil and his imps appear.]
Rip, Rip, wass is dis for a business. You are a mix nootze
unt dat is a fact. Now, I started for de mountains dis mornin',
determined to fill my bag mit game, but I met Von Brunt, de one-eyed
sergeant—[comma see hah, unt brandy-wine hapben my
neiber friend];but
in K.but as
in K.not a
in K.comes down, and offers
cup to him.]—here is your [go-to-hell],Goot-hell
in K.brosber
in K. In this speech, there is a variation in dialect as v
for w
in such words as was,
and v
for o
in such a word as
one.
Drinks.
Why, neighbour Rip, where have you been all day?
Ha, ha! I never see no ghosts, though I've fought mit
spirits in my time, ha, ha!
And they always throw you, eh? ha, ha!
Dat's a fact! Ha, ha, ha!
But, Rip, where have you been?
Oh, very hard at workfroo my fingers as vas comeatable,
in K.
They appear to have slipped through your game bag
though, for
Ho, ho, ho! cut no jokes at my bag or I'll gib you de sack.
Come, Rip, sit down, take a pipe and a glass and make yourself comfortable.
[Nine, nine—ech con neiched—]Nein, nein
in K.
Your wife, Rip?
Manage mine [frow]frau
in K.baber
in K.freund, den
in K.All laugh.
Take one glass, Rip.Come.
No, I won't touch him.
Come, come, lay hold.
Now I'll be [d——d fun]stewed vhen
in K.
Well, if you won't. [All go to table but
Dere is [a]der
in K.gonguered
in K.Goes to table.
Ha, ha, ha!
Here, Rip, here's a glass at your service, and as for the
contents I'll warrant it genuine and no mistake. [Gives a cup.
Rory, here is your [go-to-hell],goot-hell
in K.brosber
in K.
Come, Rip, give us a stave.
Yes, yes, Rip, a stave, for the old dame will be after you soon and then we will all have to make a clearance.
Oh, tunner wasser! [won't]vont
in K. The present edition does not attempt to indicate such slight
variations and differences.
Ha, ha, ha! come, the song, the song.
Well, here is Rip Van Winkle's warning to all single fellows.
SONG.—
der tyfilin K.
Chorus.—That nobody can deny, &c.
stewedin K.
Chorus.—That nobody can deny, &c.
Chorus.—That nobody can deny, &c.v
takes the place of w
in K.
[Without.] Rip, Rip! I'll stretch your ears when I get
hold of them.
[Mine goot im himmel],Der tyfil
in K.
[Without.] Rip! you lazy varmint! Rip!
[Gets under the table with bottle.] Look out, boys! de wild
cat's coming.
Music.—and at table.—Enter with a stick.
Where is this wicked husband of mine! odds bodikins
and pins! I heard his voice; you've hid him somewhere! you
ought to be ashamed of yourselves to inveigle a husband from a
tender, loving spouse; but I'm put upon by all, because they
know the mildness of my temper.—[They laugh.]—Odds bodikins
and curling irons, but some of you shall laugh the other sides of
your mouths—I'll pull your pates for you.Exit.To the others.] Out of my sight, reprobates.
Music.—Chases them round table; they exit.—upsets table
and discovers
Oh, you Rip of all rips! what have you to say for yourself?
Here is your [go-to-hell],goot-hell
in K.
[Pulling him down the stage by the ear.] I'm cool—that
is to say not very hot: but the mildest temper in the world would
be in a passion at such treatment. Get home, you drunken monster,
or I sha'n't be able to keep my hands off you. Tell me, sir,
what have you been about all day?
Hard at work, my dumpsy dumpsy; de first ting I see dis morning was a fine fat rabbit.
A rabbit? Oh, I do like rabbits in a stew; I like everything in a stew.
I be [d——d]stewed
in K.
Well, well, the rabbit?
I was going to tell you, well, dere was de rabbit feeding in de grass.
Well, well, Rip?
I [puts]buts
in K.
Yes,—
I takes goot aim mit him.
Yes,—
I [pulls]bulls
in K.
Bang went the gun and down the rabbit fell.
Eh? snap went [de]der
in K.
No!
I be [d——d fun]stewed but
in K.
And you shot nothing?
Not dat time; but de next time, I picks me my flint, unt
I [creeps]creebs
in K.bond
in K.think
in K.
Ducks?
More as fifty black ducks—ducks as big as [a goose]gooses
in K.
And so will I [Raising stick.] if you miss fire this time.
Bang!
How many down?
[One!]von
in K.
Not more than one duck out of fifty?
Yes, a great deal more as [one] duck.
Then you shot more than one?
Yes, more as one duck,—I shot one old bull.
What?
I'm [d——d fun] dat is a fact! dat was one down, and
[my goot im himmel]den
in K.back
in K.
You went fast asleep for the rest of the day.
Dat's a fact. Howdo
follows how
in K.
[Catching him by the collar.] Home, sir, home! you lazy
scamp. [Beating him.
But, mine lublicka frow—
Home! [Beating him.
[Nine! nine!—]Nein, nein
in K.
Home! [Beats him.
[Mine goot im himmel.]Ter tyfill but I have cotch him dis time!
Music.—beats him off.
Footnotes
A Plain Chamber.
Enter
in K. The scene, which is different, runs as follows:
and Exeunt.]
Should the present application fail, I am a ruined man; all my speculations will be frustrated, and my duplicity exposed; yes, the dissipation of my son must inevitably prove his ruin as well as mine. To supply his wants, the public money has been employed; and, if unable to replace it, heaven knows what may be the consequence. But my son is now placed with an able advocate in New York, and should he pursue the right path, there may be still hopes of his reformation.
[Without.] My father, you say, is this way?
What voice is that; my son? What can have recalled him thus suddenly? Some new misadventure.—Oh, my forboding thoughts!
Enter
Herman, what brings you back? Are all my cautions thus lightly regarded, that they can take no hold upon your conduct?
You have good cause for warmth, sir, but learn the reason of my disobedience, ere you condemn. Business of importance has urged me hither—such as concerns us both most intimately.
Some fresh extravagance, no doubt, to drain my little left, and set a host of creditors loose upon me.
Not so, sir, but the reverse. List! you know our neighbour, Rip Van Winkle?
Know him? Aye, his idleness is proverbial; you have good cause to recollect him too, since 'twas by his courage your life was preserved, when attacked by the famished wolf.
He has a daughter scarcely seven years old; now, the attorney whom I serve has been employed to draw up the will and settle the affairs of this girl's aunt, who, for some slight offered by Van Winkle, has long since discarded the family. At her death, the whole of her immense wealth, in cash and land, is the inheritance of the girl, who is, at this moment, the richest presumptive heiress in the land.
What connection can Van Winkle's fortune have with ours?
Listen! Were it possible to procure his signature to a contract that his daughter, when of age, should be married to me, on this security money might be raised by us to any amount. Now, my good father, am I comprehensible?
Truly, this seems no visionary dream, like those in which, with fatal pertinacity, you have so oft indulged; and, on recollection, the rent of his tenement is in arrears; 'twill offer favourable opportunity for my calling and sounding him; the contract must be your care.
'Tis already prepared and lacks only his signature.—[Presenting
it.] Lawyers, who would do justice to their clients,
must not pause at conscience; 'tis entirely out of the question
when their own interest is concerned.
Herman, I like not this black-leg manner of proceeding:
yet it augurs thou wilt be no pettifogger. I'll to Van
Winkle straight and, though not legalized to act, yet in this case
I can do work which honest lawyers would scorn. [Exit.
[Solus.] True; the honest lawyer lives by his reputation,
and therefore pauses to undertake a cause he knows unjust:
but how easily are some duped. Can my father for a
moment suppose that the rank weeds of youth are so easily
uprooted? No! what is to be done, good father of mine, but to
serve myself? young men of the present generation cannot live
without the means of entering into life's varieties and this supply
will henceforth enable me to do so, to the fullest extent of my
ambitious wishes. [Exit.
Footnotes
Cottage.—Door.—Window in flat.—A closet
in flat, with dishes, shelves, &c.—Clothes-basket, with clothes.—Table,
chairs, arm-chair, with cloak over it.—Broom on stage.
enters cautiously.
Zooks! I'm venturing into a tiger's den in quest of a lamb. All's clear, however; and, could I but pop on little Alice, how we would bill and coo. She comes! lie still, my fluttering heart.
Enter
in K.speaking off, to the child,
[Without observing
[Aside.] Sensible, susceptible soul! [But
merit ever meets its recompense.]
No wonder I am fascinated; [his figure is so elegant,
and then his education! I never see him, but I am ready to jump
into his loving arms. [Turning, she is caught in the embrace of
he is so handsome, his figure is so elegant.
This is too much for human nature to support;
[this declaration is a banquet that gods might prize.
[Kneeling.
[Without.] Go along, you drunken brute.
The devil! 'tis Dame Van Winkle! [what's to become of me?
If you're found here I'm ruined! you must conceal yourself—but where?
That's the important question; oh,]
Not for the world! she is sure to want something out of it. Here, here, get into this clothes-basket, and let me cover you over with the foul linen.
It's a very foul piece of business altogether but I must stomach it whether I will or no.
Music.—She puts him into the basket and covers him with linen.
enters, dragging in
And now, sir, I've got you home, what have you to say for yourself, I should like to know?
Nothing, [my]mein
in K.
Where's all the game you were to bring home?
On de wing still: wouldn't venture to come mitin fire; for though dey missed mine gun, dere's one ting for certain, I never miss your blowing up.
My blowing up! Odds bodikins and pins! I shall never be able to contain myself! Where's the money to pay the rent, you oaf?
I don't know.—Do you?
You'll go to prison, and that'll be the end on't.
Come, no more quarrelling to-night. [We'll]Ve'll
in K.
To-morrow! it's always to-morrow with you. So, Alice, you are sitting and idling as usual, just like your brother, a precious pair of soft pates.
Soft [pate]bate
in K.broken
in K. Also add by your knocks.
And now, Alice, come with me that I may satisfy
myself how you have disposed of the children, for in these matters
you are just such a crawler as that vagrum there, [Is retiring.]
that terrapin!
Terrapin! Ah, dame, I leaves you to go the whole hog,
but hark'ee, my lovey, before you go, won't you return de leetle
bottle which you manage to get from me [last night]?
Odds bodikins, and pins! A man already drunk, and asking for more liquor! You sha'n't have a drop, you sot, that you shall not. The bottle indeed! not you, eh! faith!
[Exit with
[Tunder]Tonner
in K.tink
in K.finish
in K.
Music.—opens the closet door cautiously, and is rummaging
for a bottle, when he treads on who roars out
lustily. in his sudden alarm, upsets the [porcelain and
glass];
crockeryin K. and, falling, rolls into the middle of the chamber, quaking in every limb, and vociferating loudly.
Help! murder! fire! thieves!
in the interim]darts out of the closet, and,
[beyond the consciousness of future proceeding] Not in K., throws himself
into the arm-chair.—
Odds bodikins and pins! what's the matter, now?
[Raising his head cautiously.] Matter, indeed! [the
devil's]der tyfil's
in K.
In the cupboard!—[Going there, sees china broken;
squalling.]—All my fine porcelain destroyed! monster! vile,
rapacious monster! A devil, indeed, has been in the cupboard,
and that's you. The china, presented to me by my grand
relations, which I set such store on, smashed into a thousand
pieces; 'tis too much for my weak nerves. I shall swoon! I
shall faint! [She sinks in the arm-chair, but immediately starts up,
and, squalling, falls into arms.—regains
the closet, unobserved by all, save
Heaven have mercy on us! there was somebody in the chair! somebody in the chair!
Phoo! there's nothing in de chair, save your old cloak,
[Tossing it aside.] dat's all.
I'm so alarmed—so agitated, that—Alice, put your
hand into my pocket and you'll find a bottle. [ produces a
bottle.
[Aside.] A leetle bottle! Oh, dat's de [private]brivate
in K.hastening off, brings a wine-glass, which
fills and gives to
Here's your [go-to-hell],goot-hell
in K.brosber
in K.Drinks from the bottle; in the
interim, proceeds to the closet and brings
out, who
is making for the door, when, hearing some one approach, he again
escapes to his retreat.
[At door.] Oh, aunt! aunt! here's the burgomaster
coming up the garden.
Odds bodikins and pins! the burgomaster! what's to be done now? Coming for the rent! What's to be done now, I say?
I'll go to bed and [think]tink
in K.
[Crosses.
You sha'n't go to bed! you must make some fresh
excuse;—you're famous at them to me;—you have got into the
nobble and must get out of it as well as you can; I shall go and
As retires, she meets entering
inserted, in K.to whom she curtseys.
Good evening, Dame.
Your honour's servant. [Exit
[Aside.] La! what a stew I'm in. Alice take yourself off,
'tis full time. Wish I was off too, mit all my heart and soul.
[Aside.] Dear, dear! what will become of my poor
Knickerbocker. [Exit.
Well, honest Rip, how wags the world with you?
Bad enough, sir, for though [labouring]I vork
in K.
Why, where the bottle is concerned, few, I believe, can boast so much industry.
Dat is a fact; but I suppose you have called concerning
de rent. [Aside.] How my heart [goes and comes!]bit-and-bat
in K.Aloud.]
Now if your honour will be so [good]goot
in K.
To write the receipt: certainly.
Nine, nine! [Aside.] I'm stewed alive mit [perspiration.]bersbiration
in K.
We'll talk of the rent at a future period! There is another affair on which I wish to consult you.
Take a chair, your honour.—[Aside, rubbing his hands
together.]—It's all right, by de hookey.—[Aloud.]—Take a glass
mit me. [They take chairs.
You know my only son, [whose life you preserved?]
Yes; and a [wild]vild
and tog
in K.Drinks.
He [is now stationed in New York, studying the law,
and]
Beg [pardon],bardon
in K.
No, on my honour; and, to convince you that I'm in earnest, I have brought with me a contract, by which our offspring, when of age, are bound to intermarry, or forfeit their several fortunes. I shall settle all mine on Herman, and I shall expect you to do the same for your daughter.
Yah! yah! [ech woll]uncommon
in K.him
in K.Mynheer
in K.Drinks.
Well, here are the two contracts, both binding and legally drawn.
Yah! yah! [Drinks.—gives him the pen.] What
you want me to do mit dis?
Merely sign your name.
Me, [put]boot
and baber
in K.freund
in K.Noise in closet.] [Schat! you witch!]S—ss cat! be quiet wid you!
.
But I was about to propose, on condition of your signing the contract, to let you live rent free, in future.
Rent free! I'll sign! but [stop]!Stob
and vould
in K.der tyfil
in K.Noise.]—[Schat!
you witch!]S—s cat! you be quiet, or I will skin you as my vife skins me.
[Writing.] As you please.I will take care to get him so completely in my power that he shall not dare, however he might desire it, to avail himself of the power which that addition to the contract will give him.
Noise.
Schat! you witch!S—s cat! I vill cut off your tail.
Drinks.
Is that a cat, friend Rip? [Writing.
I don't know if it is a cat—but, if it is my dog [Snider],Schneider
in K.
There, friend Rip, I have inserted, at your request,
this codicil: Should the said Rip Van Winkle think fit to annul
this contract, within twenty years and a day, he shall be at full
liberty to do so.
Yah, yah! [dos] is recht—dat is goot. Now [Mr.]dat ist
in K; also Mynheer.
Sign it!
Wass?
Sign!
Give me de [paper]baber
in K.Takes it.]—How my head turns
round.—[Reading.]—Should the said Rip Van Winkle
—yah,
yah! dat is me.—"Rip Van Winkle—twenty years and a day."—Oh,
dat is all recht.—[Writing.]—R-i-p V-a-n—[Noise.]—Schat!
you witch! W-i-n-k-l-e—now, dere he is.
And there is the counterpart. [Gives it.
Dis is for me, eh? I'll put him in my breast [pocket]bocket
in K.
Now, Rip, I must bid you good evening.
Stop! Take some more liquor. Why, de bottle is empty. Here! Alice! Alice! get some more schnapps for de burgomaster.
No, not to-night. [Rising.] But, should you want any
you will always find a bottle for you at your old friend Rory's; so,
good-night.
Stop, [Mr.]Mynheer
in K.Rising.]—Alice, Alice! [comma see hah!]
Enter
Alice, give me mine hat. [Alice gives it.] Now, take care of
de house till I comes back: if de old woman comes before I gets
home, tell her I am gone out mit de burgomaster on [par—par—tick—partickler]bar-bar-tick-bartickler
in K.Exit, with
advances, and brings on from the
closet.
So, Mr. Knickerbocker, you are still here.
Yes, all that's left of me! and, now that the
coast is clear, I'll give them leg bail, as the lawyers have it; and
if ever they catch me here again—[He goes towards the door, and
returns in sudden alarm.] Oh dear! oh dear! here's mother Van
Winkle coming back. I shall never get out of this mess.
It's all your own fault! Why would you come to-night!
I shall never be able to come again—the cross vixen will take care of that if she catches me here.
[There is but one method of avoiding her wrath:]
With a good thrashing to boot, I suppose.
[No matter, if I can but slip out of the house, I don't care what
I slip into.]But, never mind.
sits in arm-chair, and is attired by
in a woman's dress: on rising, the petticoats but reach his
knees.] Confound the lower garments! they're too short [by
half.]
'Tis your legs are too long [by half!]He again sits.
enters.
[Well, I've got back and I see Mr. Van Slaus is gone!
but]
The pedlar woman, aunt, who has come for the things she left.
The pedlar woman—hark'ee gossip: bring no more of your rubbish here. Take yourself off, and let me have a clear house.
[Aside.] 'Gad, I wish I was safely cleared
out of it. [rises, hobbles forward; but, forgetting
the shortness of the petticoats, in curtseying, is discovered by the
from the exposure of his legs.
Odds bodikins and pins! who have we here! an imposter!
but you shall pay for it; this is a pedlar woman, indeed,
with such lanky shanks. [She rushes up to door and, locks it—then,
with a broom pursues him round; he flings bonnet in her
face.
Needs must, when the devil drives—so here goes.
He jumps through the window [which is dashed to pieces] Not in K.—and
disappears.—
What! laugh at his misconduct, hussey. One's just as
bad as the other. All born to plague me. Get you to bed—to
bed, I say. [drives off, and follows.
Footnotes
Half dark.—A front wood.—The report of a gun is
heard; shortly after, enters, with his fowling piece.
[Whip-poor-Will! egad, I think they'll whip poor Rip.]Takes
aim at bird; it flashes in the pan.]—Another miss! Oh,
curse the misses and the missusses! hang me if I can get a single
shot at the sky-flyers. [Wish]I vishes
in K. No attempt is being made to indicate small differences ofdialect.der
inserted in K.[
.Lies down.]
[Outside:] Rip Van Winkle.
A dead pause ensues.—Suddenly a noise like the rolling of cannonballs
is heard—then a discordant shout of laughter.—wakes
and sits up astonished.
What [the deuce]der debil
in K.; also mein frau.
Reclines and sleeps.Lies down to sleep.
[Outside.] Rip Van Winkle. [The laugh being repeated,
again awakes.Without.] Rip Van Winkle!
I can't be mistaken dis time. Plague on't, I've got among the spirits of the mountains, metinks, and haven't a drop of spirits left to keep them off.
Without.] Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle.
Rip Van Winkle! that's me to a certainty.
Music.—[the grotesque dwarf, enters],One of the enters.bending
beneath the weight of a large cask which he bears on his shoulder.—He
pauses, examines then invites him to assist him in placing
the cask on the ground, which complies with.
Hang me, if he hasn't brought my heart up into my
mouth: what an outlandish being, [a sea snake,]
Music.—[
in K.; also The asks.
pointing to the cask, [entreats] assistance in bearing it up the mountains.
Want me to help you up mit it? Why not say so at
first, my old codger? What a queer old chap, to be sure; but I
can't let him toil up the mountain with such a heavy load as dat,
no, no, and so, old [broad]pale
in K.
Music.—[
in K.assists in placing cask on shoulder. A
loud laugh is heard; is alarmed, but [signs him to
proceed and be of good courage—leads way up rocks. Another peal
of laughter, and hastily follows him.
Footnotes
Dark.—The Sleepy Hollow, in the bosom of the
mountains, occupying the extreme extent of the stage—stunted
trees, fragments of rock in various parts.—Moon in the horizon;
the entrance to this wild recess being by an opening from the
abyss in the rear of the glen.
Music.—with [enormous] Not in K. masked
heads and lofty tapering hats, discovered playing [
at Dutch pins—the majority seated on a rock drinking and smoking—thunder reverberates each time a bowl is delivered.
in K.; alsoIchen
sprite.
The retire up and station themselves in motionless
attitudes.
Music.—[
in K.The ascends by the opening in the rear followed
by with the keg.—advances on the left, and, with
the assistance of his conductor, places the cask on the
rock.—
The remain immovable.
I'm a dead man, to a certainty. Into what strange
company have I tumbled! crikey, what will become of me?
Dear, dear! would I were home again, even though along with
[Dame]Frau
in K.
Music.—The severally advance, and stare at him, then
resume their game. taps the cask; motions the
astonished to assist him in distributing its contents into
various flagons; an injunction with which he complies.—helps his companions.
After all, they seem a harmless set, and there can be no
argument with them, for they appear to be all dumbies.—[Lord
were my wife]if mein wife vere
trinking
in K.Fills
a flagon.]—Here goes!—Gentlemen, here's your [go-to-hells,]goot-hells
in K.Your family's goot-hells.
Drinks.]
Ha, ha, ha!
Music.—A grotesque dance ensues, during which continues to
supply himself from the keg.—He at length joins in the dance, and
becomes so exhausted, that he reels forward and sinks in front.
The dancing ceases, the utter three "ho, ho, ho's!"—[Some
of them sink.]Moon very bright. Tableau.
END OF ACT I.
Footnotes
The last of the First Act repeated; but the distance now
presents a richly cultivated country.—The bramble is grown into
a lofty tree, and all that remains of gun is its rusty barrel,
which is at the foot of the tree.
Bird Music.—discovered extended on the ground, asleep; his
hair grey, and beard grown to an unusual length.—The hour of
the scene is gray dawn and birds from sky and hill are
chirping.
The in Tableau.—Dance of the to the gleams of the rising
sun.—Tableau.
Speaks.]
Tableau.—They disappear as the clouds gradually
pass away and a full burst of bright sunshine
illumines the scene.]
[Speaking in his sleep.] Mother Van Winkle! [Dame]Frau
in K.He awakens in sudden
emotion.] Eh! by dunder! what's all dis,—where am I—in the
name of goodness where am I? [Gazing around.] On the Catskill
Mountains, by all that's miraculous! Egad! my rib will play the
very devil with me for stopping out all night. There will be a fine
peal sounded when I get home. [Rises.]
All through this speech in K., the dialect is pronounced.Rises with difficulty.nein
in K.Looking around.] Where is
my gun? I left it on a little bush. [On examining he finds the
rusty barrel of his gun.] Hillo! [come up, here's a grab!]donner unt blitzen.
goot
in K.of him.
Moves painfully.] My legs do seem as if they vould not come after me.
[Music.—Exit.
Footnotes
Scene Second.—Chamber.
Enter formerly
Enter Knickerbocker and arm-in-arm—both grown stout.
[Exeunt and
A well-furnished apartment in the house of
now a woman, enters.
Alas, what a fate is mine! Left an orphan at an early age,—a relation's bounty made me rich, but, to-day, this fatal day—poverty again awaits me unless I bestow my hand without my heart! Oh, my poor father! little did you know the misery you have entailed upon your child.
and enter, arm in arm. They are much
more corpulent than when seen in Act I and dressed in modern
attire,—in the extreme of former fashion.
Decided that cause in the most judgematical
like manner. White wasn't black. Saw that in a twinkling;
no one disputed my argument. [Speaking as entering.] Come
along, spouse! Lauks! how you do waddle up and down, side to
side, like one of our butter-laden luggers in a squall, as the Dutchmen
have it. Ah, Lorrenna, you here? but you appear more depressed
than customary. Those saddened looks are by no means
pleasing to those who would ever wish to see you cheerful. What
the dickens prevents your being otherwise when all around are so
anxious for your happiness!
Truly, am I beholden for your protection and ever grateful. But to place a smile on the brow whilst sorrow lingers in the bosom is a deceptive penance to the wearer—painful to those around who mark and must perceive the vizard; to say that I am happy would be inconsistent with truth. The persecutions of Herman Van Slaus—
Ah! my dear Lorrenna, many a restless night have I had on that varlet's account, as spouse knows.
That's as true as there's ghosts in the Catskills, as Dutchmen have it; for be darned if a single night passes that Alice suffers me to go to sleep peaceably.
Well, well; cheer thee, my niece; there is bounteous intelligence in store; nor think there is any idle fiction in this brain, as our divine poets picture.
There, there, Alice is getting into her romance again,—plain as my fist—she has been moonified ever since she became a subscriber for books at the new library! Planet struck, by gum, as philosophers have it, and—
And you have said so little to the purpose, that I must now interpose. My dear Lorrenna—Gustaffe—'tis your aunt who speaks—
There, now, pops in her word before a magistrate.
My Gustaffe! ha! say!—
Would have told you in a brace of shakes, as gamblers have it, if she hadn't thrown the dice first. Yes, my pretty chicky—Gustaffe's vessel is now making up the Hudson; so, cheer thee! cheer thee, I say! your lover is not far off.
Gustaffe so near? blessed intelligence! Oh, the happiest wishes of my heart are gratified! But are you certain? Do not raise my hopes without cause. Are you quite certain? speak, dear aunt; are you indeed assured, Gustaffe's vessel has arrived?
Didn't think fit to break the news too suddenly, but you have it.
The ship with wide-expanded canvas glides along
and soon
—I forget the remainder of the quotation; but 'tis
in the delectable work, Robinson Crusoe
—soon will you hear
him hail. [A knock is heard.] My stars foretell that this is either him—
Or somebody else, as I suppose.
Enter
Oh, sir; Squire Knickerbocker, Herman, son of the late Derric Van Slaus, is in the hall.
That's not the him whom I expected, at all events.
Son of the individual whom I succeeded
as burgomaster? Talk of the devil—now, I don't know how it is,
but I'm always squalmish when in company of these lawyers
that's of his cast. Qui Tam.
He wishes to be introduced. What is your pleasure?
Let him be so, by all means. An honest
man needn't fear the devil. [Exit
Excuse my presence, uncle. To hear him repeat
his claims, would but afflict a heart already agonized: and with
your leave, I will withdraw. [Exit.
Aye, aye; let me alone to manage him, as a barrister says to his client when he cross-questions a witness. See Miss Lorrenna to her chamber, Mrs. Knickerbocker. This Herman is a d——d rogue, as the English have it; and he'll go to the dominions below, as the devil will have it, and as I have had it for the last twenty years.
And I tell you, to your comfort, if you don't send the
varlet quick off with a flea in his ear, you shall have it. Yes,
Squire Knickerbocker, you shall have it, be assured. So says
Mrs. Knickerbocker, you shall have it. [Exit.
Truly, I've had plenty of it from you for the last eighteen years.
Enter
Sir, I wait upon you once more. The period is now expired when my just claim, which you have so long protracted, can be vainly disputed. A vain and idle dispute of justice.
Precious fine, indeed, sir,—but, my ward has a mighty strong reluctance to part with her fortune, and much more so to make you her partner for life. You are not exactly to her liking, nor to her in the world's generally.
One or the other she is compelled to. You are aware, sir, that the law is on my side! the law, sir—the law, sir!
Oh, yes! And, no doubt, every quibble that it offers will be twisted to the best purpose for your interest. You're a dabster at chicane, or you're preciously belied.
You will not, I presume, dispute the signature of the individual who formed the contract?
Oh, no! not dispute Rip's signature, but
his error in judgement. I happened to be a cabinet councillor
non compos
mentis, at the time, clapped his pen to a writing, artfully extracted
from him by your defunct father, whose memory is
better forgotten than remembered.
Sir, I came here, not to meet insult; I came hither,
persuaded you would acknowledge my right, and to prevent a
publicity that may be painful to both parties. You are inclined
to dispute them; before a tribunal shall they be arbitrated; and,
knowing my claims, Mr. Knickerbocker, know well that Lorrenna
or her fortune must be mine.
[Exit.
You go to Davy Jones, as the seamen have it. Lorrenna shall never be yours, and if ever she wants a cent whilst I have one, my name isn't Knickerbocker;—damme, as the dandies have it.
enters, with
My dear guardian, you have got rid of Herman, I perceive.
I wish I had, with all my soul; but he sticks to his rascally undertaking like a crab to its shell; egad, there will be no dislodging him unless he's clapped into a cauldron of boiling water, as fishmongers have it.
And boiled to rags. But, husband! husband, I say!
Mr. Knickerbocker, my dear, if you please.
Well, then, Mr. Knickerbocker, my dear, if you please, we have been looking out at the window to ascertain who came and went, and have discovered a fine, handsome fellow galloping towards the town, and I shouldn't at all wonder if it wasn't—
rushes in.
[Hurries to him.] My dear, dear Gustaffe!
[Embracing her.] My tender, charming Lorrenna!
Why, Gustaffe! Bless us! why, how the spark has grown.
Not quite so corpulent as you, spouse.
Spouse! Mr. Knickerbocker, if you please. Truly, wife, we have both increased somewhat in corporal, as well as temporal substance, since Gustaffe went to sea. But you know, Alice—
Mrs. Knickerbocker, if you please.
Well, Mrs. Knickerbocker—
Why, Knickerbocker, you have thriven well of late.
I belong to the corporation, and we must support our corporation as well as it. But not a word about the pig, as the butchers have it, when you were a little boy, and Alice courting me.
I court you, sirrah? what mean you?
Sirrah! Mr. Knickerbocker, if you please. Why, then, deary—we didn't like anyone to intrude on our society; do you take the hint? as the gamblers have it. Come along, Alice—Mrs. Knickerbocker, I would say—let us leave the lovers to themselves.
Again they meet, and sweet's the love that meets return.
Exeunt and singing in concert, Again they meet.
My dear Lorrenna, why this dejected look?—It is your own Gustaffe enfolds you in his arms.
Alas! I am no longer worthy of your love,—your friendship. A fatal bond extracted from my lamented father has severed us forever—I am devoid of fortune.
Lorrenna, you have been the star that has guided my bark,—thee, my compass—my north pole,—and when the magnet refuses its aid to the seaman, then will he believe that you have foundered in affection, or think that I would prove faithless from the loss of earthly pittance.
Shoals,—to speak in your nautical language—have
long, on every side, surrounded me; but, by my kind uncle's
advice, must we be guided. [Exit.
Footnotes
The Town of nativity, instead of the Village as
presented in first scene of the drama.—It is now a populous and
flourishing settlement.—On the spot where tap-house
formerly stood, is a handsome hotel, and the sign of George III
is altered into that of George Washington.
A settee in front,
with table.—The harbour is filled with shipping.—Music at the
opening of the scene.
[Kilderkin.
the landlord, enters from the Hotel.—Loud shouts.
Well, I reckon the election's about bustin' up. If that
temperance feller gets in I'm bound to sell out; for a rum-seller
will stand no more chance with him than a bob-tail cow in fly
time.—[Laugh.]—Hollo! who is this outlandish critter? he looks
as if he had been dead for fifty years and was dug up to vote
against the temperance ticket.—
Music.—Enter and laughing. In K.,
—Enterand pointing atRip ,who comeson.
Where I was I wonder? my neiber frints, knost you ty spricken?
Vhere I was I wonder? my kneiber freunds, sprechen sie deutsch?
Ha, ha, ha!
I say, old feller, you ain't seed nothing of no old butter firkin with no kiver on, no place about here?
No butter firkin mit no kiver no place, no I ain't seen him.
Ha, ha, ha!
Who's your barber?—[Strokes his chin.—All
laugh and exeunt.
I can't understand dis: everything seems changed.—[Strokes
his chin.]—Why, I'm changed too; why, my beard's as
long as a goat's.
[Coming down.] Look here, old sucker, I guess you had
better go home and get shaved.
My old woman will shave me when I gets home! Home, where is my home? I went to the place where it used to was, and it wasn't dere. Do you live in Catskill?
Well, I rather guess I dus—
Do you know where I live?
Well, to look at you, I should think you didn't live nowhere in particular, but stayed round in spots.
You live in Catskill?
Certain.
You don't know dat I belong here?
No, I'm darned if I do. I should say you belonged to Noah's ark—-
Did you never hear in Catskill of one Rip Van Winkle?
What, Rip Van Winkle, the greatest rum-sucker in the country?
Dat is a fact—dat is him! ha! ha! now we shall see.
Oh, yes, I've heard of him; the old coon's been dead these twenty years.
Den I am dead and dat is a fact. Well, poor Rip is dead. I'm sorry for dat.—Rip was a goot fellow.
I wish there was a whole grist just like him in Catskill. Why, they say he could drink rum enough in one day to swim in.
Don't talk so much about rum; you makes me so dry as never was.
Hold on a spell then, and I'll fetch you something to
wet your whistle. [Exit into house.
Why, here is another change! dis was Rory's house last night, [re-enters.] mit de sign of George the Third.
[The alteration of my sign is no bad sign for the
country, I reckon.]
[Reading.] George Washington,
—who is he? [I remember
a shoot of dat name, dat served under Braddock, before I
went to sleep.
[Giving him jug.] Well, if you've been asleep I guess he
ar'n't: his enemies always found him wide awake and kicking;
and that shoot, as you call him, has planted the tree of liberty so
everlasting tight in Yankeeland, that all the kingdoms of the
earth can't root it out.]who is he,
read, I do not know him, but—
and continue with next Rip speech.
Well, here is General Washington's goot health, and his
family's goot health, ant may dey all live long ant prosper.
So poor Rip Van Winkle is dead, eh? [Now comes de poser;]But, now, I'm going to ask a ticklish question
in K. This speech is in dialect in K.is his old voman dead too?
She busted a blood-vessel swearing at a Yankee pedlar, and has gone to kingdom come long ago.
De old woman dead too? den her clapper is stopped at
last. [Pause.] So de old woman is dead; well, she led me a hard
Whimpering.] I'm dead too, unt dat is a fact. Tell me my frient—
I can't stop any longer—the polls are almost closing,
and I must spread the game for the boys. Hurrah, for rum
drinking and cheap licence for the retailers! that's my ticket.
[Re-enter shouting.]hurry on, shouting.Exit into house.
Are you a Federal or a Democrat?
Fiddle who? damn who's cat?
What's your politics?
Oh, I am on de safe side dere; I am a faithful subject of King George!
He's a Tory! Kill him! Duck him!
[To the horse pond! Duck him.]Duck him—duck him.
Music.—They seize and are about hurrying him off when
rushes in and throws them off.Music. All are rushing on enters.
Stand back, [cowards.]Aside.] Yes. I am a single man—now my vife is marry agin; dat is a fact!sneak off.Smiling.] How should I—Aside.] Here is von vhat knows me! dat is goot!Aside.] His fader! Ah! he means my young Rip, and I'm dead myself arter all—dat is a fact.Enter Moving to him.Aside.] Yes, dat is a fact. I remember, de burgomaster come to my house last night mit a paper, and I wrote my name down on it; but I vas trunk.Aside.] I wish what I had—but I am dead, dat is a fact.Enter mine, for you will not be suffered to resign into my hands that fortune of which I covet the possession, but which would lose half its value to me if you come not with it.Aside.] Dat is young Slaus; and he is as big a tam rascal as vas his resbectable fader.you are bledged to old Nick, and vill never be redeemed.Enter and Aside.] Dat is my sister Alice—and dat is Knickerbocker—how fat they both is got since last night! What great big suppers they must have eat!Enter and Aside.] Tonner unt blitzen! dat is mein frau! [Retreating.] No, no! I forget—she not is mine frau now! [Chuckles.Shouting.] Silence!Aside.] Dat is goot! [Laughing.] Mine frau have caught a Tartar. De second one make her pay for de virst. Ha, ha, ha! I'm stewed fun dat is a fact!Producing paper.]—is this contract to be fulfilled?Aside.] Dat is mine own girl, I vill swear to dat.Reads.] We, Deidrich Van Slous, Burgomaster, and Rip Van Winkle, desirous of providing for the prosperity of our offspring, do hereby mutually agree that Herman Van Slous, and Lowena Van Winkle, shall be united on the demand of either. Whosoever of those contracted fails in fulfilling the agreement shall forfeit their fortune to the party complaining.—Rip Van Winkle—Deidrich Van Slous.
Aside.] Yes, dat is a fact—I remember dat baber, and I've got him somevheres. [Feels in his pockets.Advancing, paper in hand.] Let me read it. [All turn amazedly towards him.] Should the said Rip Van Winkle tink fit to annul dis contract vithin twenty years and a day, he shall be at full liberty to do so.
All start.—with a loud scream, falls into Knickerbocker's arms.] Dere! for de first time in my life, I have doubled up my old woman!carries off Runs into his arms.Embracing him.] Oh, my poor dear brother.returns.Embracing him.] My blessed brother-in-law.Exit.Exit.Looking round.] But I had a leetle boy, last night—vhere is my young baby boy, my leetle Rip?Enter, young Rip Van Winkle, a very tall young man.Curtain.
Cowards!
Yes, cowards! who but cowards would rush in numbers one grey-haired man?
Yah, yah, dat's a fact!
Sheer off! you won't? then damme, here's at ye.
[Drives them off.] Tell me, old man, what cause had you given
them to attack you?
I don't know; do you?
You appear bewildered: can I assist you?
Just tell me where I live, dat's all I want to know.
And don't you know?
I'm d——d fun I does.
What is your name?
Why, I was Rip Van Winkle.
Rip Van Winkle? impossible!
Well, I won't swear to it myself.
Stay,—you have a daughter?
To be sure I has: a pretty little girl about so old—Lorrenna; and I have a son too, a lublicka boy, but my daughter is a girl.
Do you remember entering into a contract, binding your daughter to marry Herman Van Slaus?
Oh! I remember, de burgomaster came to my house last night mit a paper, and I wrote my name down on it, but I was drunk.
Last night! His brain wanders: yet it must be he; come, come with me, old man.
Where are you going to take me to?
Your daughter.
Yes, yes, take me to my child. Stop, my gracious!—I
am so changed,—suppose she should forget me too; no, no,
she can't forget her poor father. Come, come! [Exeunt.
Footnotes
House as before.
and enter.
Give me joy, dears; I'm elected unanimously—elected a member of the Legislature.
Why, spouse!
Mr. Knickerbocker, if you please, my dear;
damme! I'm so happy I could fly to the moon, jump over a
steeple, dance a new fandango on stilts. [Dances.] Fal, lal, la.
Enter
Well, sir, what the devil do you want?
I came to claim this lady's fortune or her hand.
Knock him down, spouse.
Mr. Knickerbocker, my dear.
Oh, bother! I know if he comes near my niece, woman as I am, I'll scratch his eyes out.
Mr. Knickerbocker.
The honourable member from —— County, if you please.
The judge of the district will this day arrive and
give judgement on my appeal: my rights are definitive, and I
question the whole world to controvert them. We shall meet
before the tribunal; then presume to contend longer if you dare. [Exit.
'Twill be difficult, no doubt, but we'll
have a wrangle for the bone, as the dog's have it; there will be no
curs found in our party, I'll be sworn. [Aside.] Hang me, but
I'm really a little chop fallen and there is a strange sense of
dizziness in my head which almost overcomes me.
My dear uncle, what is to be done in this emergency?
Done! your fortune is done for: but if you ever want a cent whilst I have one, may I be sent to the devil, that's all.
[Entering.] Bravo! Nunkey Knickerbocker! you
are no blind pilot. Awake to breakers and quicksand, Knickerbocker.
Knickerbocker! the honourable Mr. Knickerbocker,
if you please; I'm now a member of the Legislature
and, curse me, if I'd change my dignified station as representative
of an independent people, for that of the proudest potentate
who holds supremacy by corruption or the bayonet. [Exeunt.
The Court House.—An arm-chair at the back, in
front of which is a large table, covered with baize.—On each side
a gallery.—On the right of table are chairs.
Music.—The discovered, seated.—The galleries filled with
auditors.—
Mr. Knickerbocker, you will please to bring your client into court.
goes off, and returns with Lorrenna and
Be pleased to let your ladies take seats.
[and sit.
And now, sir, I presume 'tis time to enter on my
cause. Twenty years have elapsed since this contract, this bond
was signed by the father of that lady, by which she or her fortune
were made mine. Be pleased to peruse. [Presenting the document
to the
[Reading.] We, Derric Van Slaus, Burgomaster, and
Rip Van Winkle, desirous of providing for the prosperity of our
offspring, do hereby mutually agree that Herman Van Slaus and
Lorrenna Van Winkle shall be united on the demand of either.
Whosoever of those contracted, fails in fulfilling this agreement,
shall forfeit their fortune to the party complaining.
Rip Van Winkle
Derric Van Slaus.
But here's a codicil. Should the said Rip Van Winkle think fit
to annul this contract within twenty years and a day, he shall be
at full liberty to do so. (Signed) Derric Van Slaus.
The document is perfect in every form. Rip Van Winkle, 'tis
stated, is defunct. Is there any one present to prove his signature?
Mr. Knickerbocker, if he dare be honest, will attest it.
Dare be honest, sir! presume you to question my veracity? How was that bond obtained?
Why should you ask? The late Rip Van Winkle, anxious for the prosperity of his offspring, though too indolent to provide for their subsistence, persuaded my deceased father to form this alliance.
It's a lie! Hum!—
Restrain this violence! a court of justice must not be swayed by such proceedings.
Behold! sir, a picture of their general effrontery. In a public tribunal to threaten those, who, in pleading their own rights, but advocate the cause of justice.
[Comes down stage.] All my hopes vanish—bleak
and dreary is the perspective.
[Advances.] At last I triumph! Now, lady, your
hand or your inheritance.
My hand! never! Welcome were every privation to an union with one so base.
It appears, then, that this signature is not denied by the defendant, and in that case the contract must stand in full force against her.
Oh, Alice, take me home: poverty, death, anything
rather than wed the man I cannot love. [She is led off by
Why, damn it, Judge!
Mr. Knickerbocker!
I beg pardon, I meant no disrespect to the court, but I had thought after—
I have decided, Mr. Knickerbocker.
Oh! you have decided. Yes, and a damned
pretty mess you've made of it. But I sha'n't abide by your
decision; I'll appeal to a higher court. I am now a member of the
Legislature, and if they allow such blocks as you on the bench,
I'll have a tax upon timber, sir—yes, sir, a tax upon timber. [Exit, in a rage.
Twenty years and a day is the period within which the contract could be cancelled by the negature of Rip Van Winkle, and as he has rendered no opposition during this lengthened time—
'Tis not very probable, sir, that he will alter his intentions by appearing to do so within the few brief hours that will complete the day. Can the grave give up its inmates? No, no! Who dare pretend to dispute my rights? The only one who could do so has been dead these twenty years.
Enter and
'Tis false! Rip Van Winkle stands before you!
Rip Van Winkle!
You, Rip Van Winkle! Van Winkle come back after such a lapse of time? Impossible!
Nothing at all impossible in anything Rip Van Winkle undertakes, and, though all of you are in the same story, dat he has been gone so long, he is nevertheless back soon enough, to your sorrow, my chap.
If this, indeed, be Rip Van Winkle, where has he hid himself for twenty years?
What answer do you make to this?
Why, dat I went up in de mountains last night, and got drunk mit some jolly dogs, and when I come back dis morning I found myself dead for twenty years.
You hear him, sir.
This is evidently an impostor; take him into custody.
Stay! delay your judgement one moment till I
bring the best of proofs—his child and sister. [Exit.
If you are Rip Van Winkle, some one here would surely recognize you.
To be sure dey will! every one knows me in Catskill.
[All gather round him and shake their heads.] No, no, I don't
know dese peoples—dey don't know me neither, and yesterday
dere was not a dog in the village but would have wagged his
tail at me; now dey bark. Dere's not a child but would have
scrambled on my knees—now dey run from me. Are we so soon
forgotten when we're gone? Already dere is no one wot knows
poor Rip Van Winkle.
So, indeed, it seems.
And have you forgot de time I saved your life?
Why, I—I—I—
In course you have! a short memory is convenient for you, Herman.
[Aside] Should this indeed be he! [Aloud.] I demand
judgement.
Stay! If you be Rip Van Winkle you should have a counterpart of this agreement. Have you such a paper?
Paper! I don't know; de burgomaster gave me a paper
last night. I put it in my breast, but I must have loosed him.
No, no—here he is! here is de paper! [Gives it to who
reads it.
'Tis Rip Van Winkle! [All gather round and shake
hands with him.
Oh! everybody knows me now!
Rip Van Winkle alive! then I am dead to fortune
and to fame; the fiends have marred my brightest prospects, and
nought is left but poverty and despair. [Exit.
[Without.] Room there! who will keep a child from
a long lost father's arms?
Enter with and
My father! [Embraces
Are you mine daughter? let's look at you. Oh, my child—but how you have grown since you was a little gal. But who is dis?
Why, brother!—
Alice! give us a hug. Who is dat?
Why, my husband—Knickerbocker.
Why Knick, [Shakes hands.] Alice has grown as big
round as a tub; she hasn't been living on pumpkins. But where is
young Rip, my baby?
Oh, he was in the court-house just now. Ah! here he comes!
Enter
Is dat my baby? come here, Rip, come here, you dog; I am your father. What an interesting brat it is.
But tell us, Rip, where have you hid yourself for the last twenty years?
Ech woll—ech woll. I will take mine glass and tell mine strange story and drink the health of mine frients. Unt, ladies and gents, here is your goot health and your future families and may you all live long and prosper.
THE END.
The following substitutions were applied to the text by Project Gutenberg proofers and transcribers—
On page 43, Rory speaking:
In the long footnote on page 62, Dame speaking: