Representative Plays by American Dramatists: 1856-1911:
Rip van Winkle


by Charles Burke




First Project Gutenberg Edition , (December 18, 2007)





[Illustration: Charles Burke]

                              CHARLES BURKE





CONTENTS


Preface
Announcement
RIP VAN WINKLE
Introduction
   CAST OF CHARACTERS
   COSTUME
   RIP VAN WINKLE
      ACT I.
         SCENE I.
         SCENE II.
         SCENE III.
         SCENE IV.
         SCENE V.
      ACT II.
         SCENE I.
         SCENE II.
         SCENE III.
         SCENE IV.
         SCENE LAST.
Transcribers’ Notes






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 rï¿½le, 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 him in conjunction
with John Howard Payne, it is unfortunate that he himself did not realize
the dramatic possibilities of his story. There is no available record to
show that he either approved or disapproved of the early dramatizations.
But there is ample record to show that, with the beginning of its stage
career, nine years after publication, “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:

Derrick Van Slous—Charles B. Parsons
Knickerbocker—Moses S. Phillips
Rip Van Winkle—Thomas Flynn
Lowenna—Mrs. Flynn
Alice—Mrs. Forbes

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 it.” 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 of _Nicholas Vedder_ in
    this drama. In the scene where _Rip_ returns 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 of _Vedder_, 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.” Then _Rip_ said, “Who is George
    Vashingdoner?” To which Barry replied, using the language of
    General Henry (see his “Eulogy 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 Management in the West
and South,” 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, ‘But she was mine vrow’ without experiencing some moisture
in the eyes.” While the _Galaxy_, in a later year, for February, 1868,
states: “His _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.” The statement, by Oliver Bell Bunce,
is followed by this stricture against Jefferson: “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 of “Rip Van Winkle; or,
    The Legend of the Kaatskill Mountains”—(founded on Washington
    Irving’s celebrated tale called “Rip 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, The
Fate of Frankenstein,” taken from the French of J. T. Merle and A. N.
Bï¿½raud. 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 his _name_ in a _sealed 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 rï¿½le 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 rï¿½le 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,
in 1859, he lay in the loft of an old barn, reading the “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 as _Goldfinch_ in 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, and
    “make,” of the father. Had never seen the father in _Goldfinch_,
    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:

Act I.—Burke + Jefferson + Boucicault ending.
Act II.—Jefferson.
Act III.—Burke + Jefferson + ending suggested by Shakespeare’s
    “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 called ‘Rip Van Winkle’, but when
    submitted for their perusal, they rejected it. Still he was so
    desirous of playing _Rip_ that 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 _Rip_ a 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 rï¿½le. 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. In fact Jefferson was the play. His was a classic
embodiment, preserved in its essential details in contemporary criticism
and vivid pictures.





[Illustration:
THEATRE
-------
FOR THE BENEFIT

OF

Mrs. SHARPE
AND HER LAST APPEARANCE, prior to her departure for
the South--on which occasion

Mr. Hackett
Has kindly consented to perform.
--------------------------------
On Wednesday Evening, Oct. 18

Will be produced, 1st time in America, the Tragedy in 5 acts, of

THE BRIDAL

_As altered from a Tragedy of Beaumont & Fletcher, by_ WILLIAM
MACREADY _and_ SHERIDAN KNOWLES, _and now performing
in London with great applause._


Areanus,   (King of Rhodes)               Mr. Richings
Melantius                                     Fredericks
Amintor                                       Mason
Lysippus   (brother to the King)              Wells
Diphibus,  (brother of Melantius & Evadne)    Nexsom
Cleon,                                        Garland
Caltranex, (Kinsman o to Aspasia,)            Wheatley
Archas     (Keeper of the Prison)             Bedford
Strato,                                       Isherwood
Diagoras,                                     Johnson
Assassin                                      King
Dion                                          Gallott

Nobles, Guards, &c

EVADNE    (Wife of Amintor )                MRS. SHARPE
Aspasia   (formerly betrothed to Amintor)   Mrs. Richardson
Antiphole,                                       Pritchard
Olympias                                         Conway
Dula                                             Durie
Cleanthe                                    Miss Bedford

Ladies, &c. &c.
--------------------------------------------------------

--IN ACT 2--

A GREEK PAS DE DEUX,

WILL BE DANCED

By MR. & MRS. CHECKENI.

--------------------------------------------------------

After which, the Drama of

_Rip Van Winkle!_

_Or--A Legend of the Catskill Mountains._]


[Illustration:
Characters in Act First--or 1763.

_RIP VAN WINKLE, a North River Dutchman_           _Mr. HACKETT_
Derrick Van Tassel, the Burgomaster                 Mr. Clarke
Nichols Vedder, a Farmer,                               Isherwood
Brom Van Brunt, a Schoolmaster,                         Fisher
Rory Van Clump, Landlord of George 3d Tavern,           Wells
Henderick Hudson, Capt. of the Spirit Crew of the Dutch
discovery ship ’Half Moon’                          Hayden
Richard Juet, his Mate,
Dirk Quackenboss,
  Dutchmen, Spirit Crew, &c.
Dame Van Winkle, Rip’s Scolding Wife,              Mrs. Wheatley
Alice, Rip’s Sister,                                    Chippindale

Between the first and Second Acts a period of Twenty Years
is supposed to elapse.

RIP VAN WINKLE, the Sleeper, now a Stranger
  in his Native Village,                            MR. HACKETT
Herman Van Tassel, Son of the late Burgomaster
     Contracted to Gertrude,                        Mr. Wheatley
Abram Higginbottomm, late Brom Van Brunt                Fisher
Bradford, in love with Gertrude                         Richings
Perseverance Peashell, Landlord of Washington Hotel     Povey
Hiram      } Yankee Wits                                King
Ebeneezer, }                                            Wells
Young Rip Van Winkle,                                   Bancker
District Judge                                          Nexsom
Gertrude Van Winkle, contracted to Herman       Miss E. Turnbull
Dame Van Winkle, formerly Alice Van Winkle              Chippindale

---------------------------------------------
*A Double Hornpipe by Mast & Miss Wells.*
---------------------------------------------

To conclude with, The FIRST ACT of the Farce of the

_Kentuckian_

Or--A Trip to New-York.

*Nimrod Wildfire,*                          *Mr. Hackett*
Mr. Freeman                                  Mr. Clarke
Percival,                                        Wheatley
Pompey,                                          Povey
Tradesman,                                       Gallott
Mrs. Luminary,                              Mrs. Wheatley
Mrs. Freeman                                     Vernon
Mary,                                            Durie
Servant,                                         Conway
Caroline                                    Miss Turnbull

--------------------------------------------
_Thursday--Third Night of the Engagement of_

*MISS TREE*

LOM,
                                        Miss Tree

And, ANIMAL MAGNETISM.

----------------------------------------------------
Friday and Saturday Evenings MISS TREE will perform.
----------------------------------------------------
]





                              RIP VAN WINKLE


                       _A LEGEND OF THE CATSKILLS_

                       A ROMANTIC DRAMA IN TWO ACTS

               ADAPTED FROM WASHINGTON IRVING’S SKETCH BOOK

                           _By_  CHARLES BURKE




[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
‘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.” 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 “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.]




                            CAST OF CHARACTERS


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

                     _Original_         _Walnut St. _
                                        _Philadelphia_
DEIDRICH VAN SLAUS   Mr. Sanger         Mr. Porter
HERMAN (his Son)     " N. Norton        " Read
KNICKERBOCKER (a     " S. Beverley      " J. Jefferson
Schoolmaster)
RORY VAN CLUMP (a    " C. Osborne       " Greene
Landlord)
                                        " Chapman
RIP VAN WINKLE       " H. BEVERLEY      " Hackett
NICHOLAS VEDDER      " T. Santer        " Sefton
PETER CLAUSEN        " Cogan            " James
GUSTAVE              Master Kerr        Miss Anderson
DAME VAN WINKLE      Mrs. Porter        Mrs. B. Stickney
ALICE                " W. Hall          Mrs. S. Chapman
LOWENA               Miss Kerr          Miss Eberle
IMP OF THE           W. Oxberry, Jun.   W. Wells
MOUNTAIN

          The Spectre Crew of the Mountains, Farmers, &c.
          A Lapse of Twenty Years occurs between the Acts.

                              Act II. 1783.

HERMAN VAN SLAUS   Mr. H. Norton   Mr. Read
SETH KILDERKIN     ——              ——
KNICKERBOCKER      " S. Beverley   " J. Jefferson
NICHOLAS VEDDER    " T. Santer     " Sefton
GUSTAVE            ——              ——
YOUNG RIP          ——              ——
                                   " Chapman
RIP VAN WINKLE     " H. Beverley   " Hackett
ALICE VAN          Mrs. W. Hall    Mrs. S. Chapman
KNICKERBOCKER
LOWENA             Miss Kerr       Miss Eberle
JACINTHA           ——              ——

                          CAST OF THE CHARACTERS

                    _Bowery_             _Arch Street_
                    _Theatre_            _Theatre_
                    _New York_           _Philadelphia_
ACT I—1763          1857                 1850
RIP VAN WINKLE (a   Mr. F. S. Chanfrau   Mr. C. Burke
Dutchman)
KNICKERBOCKER (a    " Whiting            " J. L. Baker
Schoolmaster)
DERRIC VAN SLAUS    " Ferdon             " Marsh
(the Burgomaster)
HERMAN VAN SLAUS    " Blake              " Henkins
(his son).
NICHOLAS VEDDER     " Baker              ——
(friend to Rip)
CLAUSEN             " Edson              " Bradford
RORY VANCLUMP (a    " Foster             " Worrell
Landlord)
GUSTAFFE            " F. Hodge           " Mortimore
DAME VAN WINKLE     Mrs. Axtel           Mrs. Hughs
ALICE               " Fitzgerald         Miss Wood
LORRENNA            Miss Wallis          " E. Jones
SWAGGRINO }         Mr. Williams         Mr. Brown
Spirits of the
{
GAUDERKIN }         " Barry              " Ray
Catskills       {
ICKEN     }         " Bennett            " Ross
{

ACT II.—1783.—_A lapse of twenty years is supposed to occur between_
                _the First and Second Acts._

RIP VAN WINKLE     Mr. F. S. Chanfrau   Mr. C. Burke
(the dreamer)
HERMAN VAN SLAUS   " Blake              " Henkins
SETH SLOUGH        " Denham             " J. Jefferson
KNICKERBOCKER      " Whiting            " J. L. Baker
THE JUDGE          " Pelham             " Anderson
GUSTAFFE           " F. Hodges          " Mortimore
RIP VAN WINKLE,    " Thompson           " Stanley
JR.
FIRST VILLAGER     " Bennett            " Thomas
SECOND VILLAGER    " Alkins             " Sims
ALICE              Mrs. Fitzgerald      Miss Wood
KNICKERBOCKER
LORRENNA           " J. R. Scott        " E. Jones

                    _Broadway_     _Metropolitan_
                    _Theatre_      _Theatre_
                    _New York_     _Buffalo_
ACT I—1763          1855           1857
RIP VAN WINKLE (a   Mr. Hackett    Mr. F. S. Chanfrau
Dutchman)
KNICKERBOCKER (a    " Norton       " B. G. Rogers
Schoolmaster)
DERRIC VAN SLAUS    " McDonall     " Ross
(the Burgomaster)
HERMAN VAN SLAUS    ——             " Ferrell
(his son)
NICHOLAS VEDDER     " Anderson     " Stephens
(friend to Rip)
CLAUSEN             ——             " Leak
RORY VANCLUMP (a    " Price        " Boynton
Landlord)
GUSTAFFE            Miss Wood      " Kent
DAME VAN WINKLE     Mrs. Bellamy   Miss Wells
ALICE               " Sylvester    Mrs. C. Henri
LORRENNA            Miss Henry     La Petite Sarah
SWAGGRINO }         Mr. Lamy       Mr. Henri
Spirits of the
{
GAUDERKIN }         ——             " McAuley
Catskills      {
ICKEN     }         ——             " Ferris
{

ACT II.—1783.—_A lapse of twenty years is supposed to occur between_
                _the First and Second Acts._

RIP VAN WINKLE     Mr. Hackett      Mr. F. S. Chanfrau
(the dreamer)
HERMAN VAN SLAUS   " Warwick        " Ferrell
SETH SLOUGH        " Whiting        " Stephens
KNICKERBOCKER      " Norton         " B.G. Rogers
THE JUDGE          ——               " Spackman
GUSTAFFE           " Levere         " Kent
RIP VAN WINKLE,    " Ryder          " McAuley
JR.
FIRST VILLAGER     " Brown          " Ferris
SECOND VILLAGER    " Hoffman        " Judson
ALICE              Mrs. Sylvester   Mrs. C. Henri
KNICKERBOCKER
LORRENNA           " Allen          Miss Tyson




COSTUME


RIP—_First dress:_—A deerskin coat and belt, full brown breeches, deerskin
gaiters, cap. _Second dress:_—Same, but much worn and ragged.

KNICKERBOCKER—_First dress:_—Brown square cut coat, vest and breeches,
shoes and buckles. _Second dress:_—Black coat, breeches, hose, &c.

DERRIC VAN SLAUS—Square cut coat, full breeches, black silk hose, shoes
and buckles—_powder_.

HERMAN—_First dress:_—Ibid. _Second dress:_—Black frock coat, tight pants,
boots and tassels.

VEDDER  }
CLAUSEN }  Dark square cut coats, vests, breeches, &c.
RORY    }

GUSTAFFE—Blue jacket, white pants, shoes.

SETH SLOUGH—Gray coat, striped vest, large gray pants.

JUDGE—Full suit of black.

YOUNG RIP—A dress similar to Rip’s first dress.

DAME—Short gown and quilted petticoat, cap.

ALICE—_First dress:_—Bodice, with half skirt, figured petticoat. _Second
dress:_—Brown satin bodice and skirt, &c.

LORRENNA, Act 1—A child.

LORRENNA, Act 2—White muslin dress, black ribbon belt, &c.




                              RIP VAN WINKLE



                                  ACT I.


SCENE I.


_A Village.—House, with a sign of_ “George III.”—_Two or three
tables._—VILLAGERS _discovered, smoking_. VEDDER, KNICKERBOCKER, RORY,
CLAUSEN _at table. Chorus at rise of curtain._

                                 CHORUS.

          In our native land, where flows the Rhine,
            In infancy we culled the vine:
          Although we toiled with patient care,
            But poor and scanty was our fare.

                                  SOLO.

          Till tempting waves, with anxious toil,
            We landed on Columbia’s soil;
          Now plenty, all our cares repay,
            So laugh and dance the hours away.

                                 CHORUS.

          Now plenty, all our cares repay,
            So laugh and dance the hours away;
          Ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha!
            So laugh, ha, ha! and dance the hours away.

VEDDER.

  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.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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.

VEDDER.

  So, Knickerbocker, you are really determined to marry Rip’s sister, the
  pretty Alice?

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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.

CLAUSEN.

  But have you got the dame’s consent, eh?

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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!

RORY.

  Here comes Alice, and with her, Rip’s daughter.

          _Enter_ ALICE, _with_ LORRENNA. [LOWENA](1)

ALICE.

  Come along, loiterer! Woe betide us when we get home, for having tarried
  so long! What will the dame say?

LORRENNA.

  Well, it’s not my fault, for you have been up and down the lane a dozen
  times, looking for the schoolmaster, Knickerbocker.

ALICE.

  Hold your tongue, Miss, it’s no such thing.

LORRENNA.

  You know you love him.

ALICE.

  How do you know that, Miss Pert?

LORRENNA.

  I can see it; and seeing is believing, they say. Oh, you’re monstrous
  jealous of him, you know you are.

          KNICKERBOCKER _advances._

ALICE.

  Jealous! I, jealous of him? No, indeed, I never wish to see his ugly
  face again.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  Say not so, sweet blossom of the valley, for in that case I shall shoot
  myself in despair.

ALICE.

  Oh, don’t think of such a thing, for then your ghost might haunt me.

LORRENNA.

  And I’m sure you would rather have him than his ghost, wouldn’t you,
  Alice?

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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?

ALICE.

  Not for the world; if the dame were to find you in the house, I don’t
  know what would happen.

LORRENNA.

  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_ KNICKERBOCKER.]
  come at eight o’clock, and throw some gravel at the window, there’s no
  knowing but you might see Alice.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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—

DAME.

  [_Without._] Alice! Alice! odds bodikins and pins, but I’ll give it you
  when I catch you.

          _The_ VILLAGERS _exit._

KNICKERBOCKER.

  Run, Alice, run!

          [ALICE, LORRENNA _and_ KNICKERBOCKER _run to right._

DAME.

  [_Without._] Alice!

          [ALICE, LORENNA _and_ KNICKERBOCKER _exeunt hastily_.

RORY.

  Egad! the dame’s tongue is a perfect scarecrow!

VEDDER.

  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? [RIP _sings without._] But talk of the devil and
  his imps appear.](2)

          _Enter_ RIP VAN WINKLE, _with gun, game-bag, &c._

RIP.

  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];(3) well, I couldn’t refuse to
  take a glass mit him, unt den I tooks anoder glass, unt den I took so
  much as a dozen, [do](4) I drink no more as a bottle; he drink no more
  as I—he got so top heavy, I rolled him in de hedge to sleep a leetle,
  for his one eye got so crooked, he never could have seed his way
  straight; den I goes to de mountain, [do](5) I see double, [d——d](6) a
  bird could I shooted. But I stops now, I drinks no more; if anybody ask
  me to drink, I’ll say to dem—[VEDDER _comes down, and offers cup to
  him._]—here is your [go-to-hell],(7) and your family’s [go-to-hell], and
  may you all live long and [prosper].(8) [_Drinks._

VEDDER.

  Why, neighbour Rip, where have you been all day? We feared some of the
  [Elfin](9) goblins of the Catskill had caught you.

RIP.

  Ha, ha! I never see no ghosts, though I’ve fought mit _spirits_ in my
  time, ha, ha!

VEDDER.

  And they always throw you, eh? ha, ha!

RIP.

  Dat’s a fact! Ha, ha, ha!

VEDDER.

  But, Rip, where have you been?

RIP.

  Oh, very hard at work(10)—very busy; dere is nothing slipped [fun my
  fingers as was come at abe.](11)

RORY.

  They appear to have slipped through your game bag though, for it’s full
  of emptiness.—Ha, ha, ha!

RIP.

  Ho, ho, ho! cut no jokes at my _bag_ or I’ll gib you de sack.

VEDDER.

  Come, Rip, sit down, take a pipe and a glass and make yourself
  comfortable.

RIP.

  [Nine, nine—ech con neiched—](12) it behoves a man to look after his
  interest unt not drink all de while, I shall den be able to manage—

VEDDER.

  Your wife, Rip?

RIP.

  Manage mine [frow](13)? Can you fly to de moon on a [paper](14) kite?
  Can you drink all de beer and brandy-wine at one gulp? when you can do
  dat, mine goot [im himmel](15) you can manage mine [frow]. [_All
  laugh._(16)

RORY.

  Take one glass, Rip.(17)

RIP.

  No, I won’t touch him.

VEDDER.

  Come, come, lay hold.

RIP.

  Now I’ll be [d——d fun](18) I does.

VEDDER.

  Well, if you won’t.  [_All go to table but_ RIP.

RIP.

  Dere is [a](19) drinks, dere is [a] drinks; I have [conquered](20)
  temptation at last. Bravo resolution! bravo resolution; resolution, you
  shall have one glass for dat.(21)  [_Goes to table._

OMNES.

  Ha, ha, ha!

RORY.

  Here, Rip, here’s a glass at your service, and as for the contents I’ll
  warrant it genuine and no mistake. [_Gives_ RIP_ a cup._

RIP.

  Rory, here is your [go-to-hell],(22) unt your family’s [go-to-hell], un
  may you all live long unt [prosper].(23)

RORY.

  Come, Rip, give us a stave.

VEDDER.

  Yes, yes, Rip, a stave, for the old dame will be after you soon and then
  we will all have to make a clearance.

RIP.

  Oh, tunner wasser! [won’t](24) my old woman skin me when I get home.

VEDDER AND RORY.

  Ha, ha, ha! come, the song, the song.

RIP.

  Well, here is Rip Van Winkle’s warning to all single fellows.

                                SONG.—RIP.

          List, my friends, to caution’s voice,
            Ere de marriage knot you tie;
          It is [the devil],(25) mit shrews to splice,
            Dat nobody can deny, deny,
                Dat nobody can deny.

                  _Chorus._—That nobody can deny, &c.

          When a wife to rule once wishes,
            Mit poor spouse ’tis all my eye,
          I’m [d——d](26) if she don’t wear de breeches,
            Dat nobody can deny, deny,
                Dat nobody can deny.

                  _Chorus._—That nobody can deny, &c.

          Yet dere is a charm about dem,
            Do dere voices are so high
          We can’t do mit’em,                        [_Pause._
            Nor we can’t do mit-out ’em,
              Dat nobody can deny, deny,
                Dat nobody can deny.

                  _Chorus._—That nobody can deny, &c.(27)

DAME.

  [_Without._] Rip, Rip! I’ll stretch your ears when I get hold of them.

RIP.

  [Mine goot im himmel],(28) dere is my frow.

DAME.

  [_Without._] Rip! you lazy varmint! Rip!

RIP.

  [_Gets under the table with bottle._] Look out, boys! de wild cat’s
  coming.

_Music._—VEDDER, RORY _and_ CLAUSEN, _at table._—_Enter_ DAME, _with a
stick._

DAME.

  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.(29)

_Music._—_Chases them round table; they exit._—DAME _upsets table and
discovers_ RIP.

DAME.

  Oh, you Rip of all rips! what have you to say for yourself?

RIP.

  Here is your [go-to-hell],(30) unt your family’s, unt may you all live
  long and [prosper].

DAME.

  [_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?

RIP.

  Hard at work, my dumpsy dumpsy; de first ting I see dis morning was a
  fine fat rabbit.

DAME.

  A rabbit? Oh, I do like rabbits in a stew; I like everything in a stew.

RIP.

  I be [d——d](31) but dat is a fact.

DAME.

  Well, well, the rabbit?

RIP.

  I was going to tell you, well, dere was de rabbit feeding in de grass.

DAME.

  Well, well, Rip?

RIP.

  I [puts](32) my gun to my shoulder—

DAME.

  Yes,—

RIP.

  I takes goot aim mit him.

DAME.

  Yes,—

RIP.

  I [pulls](33) my trigger, unt—

DAME.

  Bang went the gun and down the rabbit fell.

RIP.

  Eh? snap went [de](34) gun and off de rabbit run. Ha, ha, ha!

DAME.

  No!

RIP.

  I be [d——d fun](35) dat is a fact.

DAME.

  And you shot nothing?

RIP.

  Not dat time; but de next time, I picks me my flint, unt I [creeps](36)
  up to de little [pond](37) by de old field, unt dere—what do you
  [tink](38) I see?

DAME.

  Ducks?

RIP.

  More as fifty black ducks—ducks as big as [a goose](39)—well, I hauls up
  again.

DAME.

  And so will I [_Raising stick._] if you miss fire this time.

RIP.

  Bang!

DAME.

  How many down?

RIP.

  [One!](40)

DAME.

  Not more than one duck out of fifty?

RIP.

  Yes, a great deal more as [one] duck.

DAME.

  Then you shot more than one?

RIP.

  Yes, more as one duck,—I shot one old bull.

DAME.

  What?

RIP.

  I’m [d——d fun] dat is a fact! dat was one down, and [my goot im
  himmel](41) how he did roar and bellow, unt lash his tail, unt snort and
  sneeze, unt sniff! Well, de bull puts right after me, unt I puts right
  away fun de bull: well, de bull comes up mit me just as I was climbing
  de fence, unt he catch me mit his horns fun de [seat](42) of my
  breeches, unt sent me flying more as a mile high.—Well, by-and-bye
  directly, I come down aready in a big tree, unt dere I sticks fast, unt
  den—

DAME.

  You went fast asleep for the rest of the day.

RIP.

  Dat’s a fact. How(43) you know dat? you must be a witch.

DAME.

  [_Catching him by the collar._] Home, sir, home! you lazy scamp.
  [_Beating him._

RIP.

  But, mine lublicka frow—

DAME.

  Home!              [_Beating him._

RIP.

  [Nine! nine!—](44)

DAME.

  Home!               [_Beats him._

RIP.

  [Mine goot im himmel.](45) [_Music._—DAME _beats him off._

*Footnotes*

    1 So spelled in the Kerr version.

    2 Assigned to CLAUSEN in the Kerr version. Preceding this bracket,

      CLAUSEN. Well, she is a tartar, there’s no denying that.
      VEDDER. Not but if she were my wife instead of Rip’s. I warrant I’d
                  soon tame her.
      CLAUSEN. Not you! But where the deuce ...

    3 Not in the Kerr version.

    4 “but” in K.

    5 “but as” in K.

    6 “not a” in K.

    7 “Goot-hell” in K.

    8 “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.”

    9 Not in K.

   10 "vork" in K.

   11 “froo my fingers as vas comeatable,” in K.

   12 “Nein, nein” in K.

   13 “frau” in K.

   14 “baber” in K.

   15 “freund, den” in K.

   16 Here is given in Kerr, the following:

      VEDDER. I wish she was my wife, I’d manage her.
      RIP. And I wish she vas your vife too, or anybody’s vife, so long as
                  she vasn’t mine vife.

   17 RORY’S speech, in K., begins with “Come.”

   18 “stewed vhen” in K.

   19 “der” in K.

   20 “gonguered” in K.

   21 In K., variation only in dialect form.

   22 “goot-hell” in K.

   23 “brosber” in K.

   24 “vont” in K.  The present edition does not attempt to indicate such
      slight variations and differences.

   25 “der tyfil” in K.

   26 “stewed” in K.

   27 In this song, “v” takes the place of “w” in K.

   28 “Der tyfil” in K.

   29 In K. there follows:

      VEDDER. Oh. I wish I was your husband, Dame Winkle. [_Exit._
      DAME. You, my husband, you! [_To the others._] Out of my sight,
                  reprobates.

   30 “goot-hell” in K.

   31 “stewed” in K.

   32 “buts” in K.

   33 “bulls” in K.

   34 “der” in K.

   35 “stewed but” in K.

   36 “creebs” in K.

   37 “bond” in K.

   38 “think” in K.

   39 “gooses” in K.

   40 “von” in K.

   41 “den” in K.

   42 “back” in K.

   43 “do” follows “how” in K.

   44 “Nein, nein” in K.

   45 In K., Rip’s speech is “Ter tyfill but I have cotch him dis time!”


SCENE II.


_A Plain Chamber._

          _Enter_ DERRIC VAN SLAUS.(46)

DERRIC.

  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.

HERMAN.

  [_Without._] My father, you say, is this way?

DERRIC.

  What voice is that; my son? What can have recalled him thus suddenly?
  Some new misadventure.—Oh, my forboding thoughts!

          _Enter_ HERMAN.

DERRIC.

  Herman, what brings you back? Are all my cautions thus lightly regarded,
  that they can take no hold upon your conduct?

HERMAN.

  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.

DERRIC.

  Some fresh extravagance, no doubt, to drain my little left, and set a
  host of creditors loose upon me.

HERMAN.

  Not so, sir, but the reverse. List! you know our neighbour, Rip Van
  Winkle?

DERRIC.

  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.

HERMAN.

  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.

DERRIC.

  What connection can Van Winkle’s fortune have with ours?

HERMAN.

  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?

DERRIC.

  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.

HERMAN.

  ’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.

DERRIC.

  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._

HERMAN.

  [_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*

   46 “_and_ HERMAN” in K. The scene, which is different, runs as follows:

      HERMAN. Lecture me as much as you will, father, if at the close of
                  your sermon you are prepared to supply me with the money
                  that I need.
      DERRIC. Money! that is eternally your cry. Your extravagances have
                  almost ruined and soon will dishonour me. Oh! I am but
                  justly punished for my mad indulgence of a son who was
                  born only to be my bane and curse.
      HERMAN. If you could but invent some fresh terms for my reproach!
                  such frequent repetition becomes, I assure you, very
                  wearisome.
      DERRIC. You have caused me to plunge into debt, and I am now pursued
                  by a host of creditors.
      HERMAN. We must find a way to quiet them. And for the money I now
                  require—
      DERRIC. Not another dollar do you obtain from me. Already, to supply
                  your cravings, I have misappropriated some of the public
                  money, and I must replace it soon if I would avert the
                  shame and degradation with which I now am threatened.
      HERMAN. And from which I will save you.
      DERRIC. You?
      HERMAN. Yes. I! Rip van Winkle, your tenant—
      DERRIC. What has that idle, dissipated fellow to do with the present
                  matter?
      HERMAN. Much, as I will show you, and his daughter more.
      DERRIC. His daughter?
      HERMAN. Now scarcely seven years old, I believe. This girl has an
                  aunt residing in New York, who has long since, in
                  consequence of an affront received from Van Winkle,
                  discarded the whole family. But I have discovered that,
                  of which they have no notion.
      DERRIC. What do you mean?
      HERMAN. Why, that the whole of this aunt’s fortune, and she is
                  immensely rich, must of necessity, at the old lady’s
                  death, become the inheritance of the little Lowena.
      DERRIC. And in what way can that affect us?
      HERMAN. You shall hear. I have already caused a contract to be
                  prepared, and to which you must obtain Rip Van Winkle’s
                  signature.
      DERRIC. What is that contract?
      HERMAN. You shall read it presently. Van Winkle is an easy soul, and
                  at present, I believe, your debtor.
      DERRIC. Yes, considerably in arrears with the rent of the tenement,
                  which he holds from me.
      HERMAN. Obtain his signature to the contract I am about to give you,
                  and ’twill be a security on which money may be raised to
                  any amount.
      DERRIC. You amaze me, I—
      HERMAN. You must have cash, father, to relieve you from your
                  unpleasant difficulties, and I, for those delights of
                  youth without which there is no advantage in being
                  young.           [_Exeunt._]


SCENE III.


RIP’S _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._

          KNICKERBOCKER _enters cautiously._

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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_ ALICE.(47)

ALICE.

  [_Without observing_ KNICKERBOCKER.] There, there, go to sleep. Ah!
  Knickerbocker, how I love you, [spite of all the strange ways that you
  pursue.](48)

KNICKERBOCKER.

  [_Aside._] Sensible, susceptible soul! [But merit ever meets its
  recompense.](49)

ALICE.

  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_ KNICKERBOCKER.](50)

KNICKERBOCKER.

  This is too much for human nature to support; [this declaration is a
  banquet that gods might prize.(51)] Beauteous angel! hear me, whilst I
  proclaim—

                [_Kneeling._

DAME.

  [_Without._] Go along, you drunken brute.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  The devil! ’tis Dame Van Winkle! [what’s to become of me?

ALICE.

  If you’re found here I’m ruined! you must conceal yourself—but where?

KNICKERBOCKER.

  That’s the important question; oh,](52) I’ll hop into the cupboard.

ALICE.

  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.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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._

          DAME _enters, dragging in_ RIP.

DAME.

  And now, sir, I’ve got you home, what have you to say for yourself, I
  should like to know?

RIP.

  Nothing, [my](53) darling, de least said is soonest mended, and so you
  shall have all de talk to yourself.—Now ain’t dat liberal?

DAME.

  Where’s all the game you were to bring home?

RIP.

  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.

DAME.

  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?

RIP.

  I don’t know.—Do you?

DAME.

  You’ll go to prison, and that’ll be the end on’t.

RIP.

  Come, no more quarrelling to-night. [We’ll](54) see about de rent money
  to-morrow morning.

DAME.

  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.

RIP.

  Soft [pate](55)—pretty hard I guess, or it would have been
  [fructured](56) long since and dat’s a fact.

DAME.

  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!

RIP.

  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]?(57)

DAME.

  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_ ALICE.

RIP.

  [Tunder](58) take me if I don’t [think](59) but what she has
  [finished](60) it herself, and dat’s de fact. My nose always sniffs like
  a terrier’s; ’tis in de cupboard, her Hollands;—so, here goes to nibble.

_Music_.—RIP _opens the closet door cautiously, and is rummaging for a
bottle, when he treads on_ KNICKERBOCKER, _who roars out lustily_. RIP,
_in his sudden alarm, upsets the [porcelain and glass];_(_61_)_ and,
falling, rolls into the middle of the chamber, quaking in every limb, and
vociferating loudly._

RIP.

  Help! murder! fire! thieves!

KNICKERBOCKER, [_in the interim_](62), _darts out of the closet, and,
[beyond the consciousness of future proceeding]_(_63_)_, throws himself
into the arm-chair_.—ALICE, _entering hastily, throws a cloak over him,
which hides him from observation_.—DAME _enters, alarmed._

DAME.

  Odds bodikins and pins! what’s the matter, now?

RIP.

  [_Raising his head cautiously._] Matter, indeed! [the devil’s](64) in
  the cupboard! Oh, la! I’ll be swammed.

DAME.

  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 _RIP’S _arms._—KNICKERBOCKER _regains the
  closet, unobserved by all, save_ ALICE.

DAME.

  Heaven have mercy on us! there was somebody in the chair! somebody in
  the chair!

RIP.

  Phoo! there’s nothing in de chair, save your old cloak, [_Tossing it
  aside._] dat’s all.

DAME.

  I’m so alarmed—so agitated, that—Alice, put your hand into my pocket and
  you’ll find a bottle. [ALICE_ produces a bottle._

RIP.

  [_Aside._] A leetle bottle! Oh, dat’s de [private](65) cupboard. Alice,
  let me hold de leetle bottle, whilst you fetch a glass for the old
  woman. [ALICE, _hastening off, brings a wine-glass, which_ RIP _fills
  and gives to_ DAME.

RIP.

  Here’s your [go-to-hell],(66) and your family’s and may you live long
  and [prosper](67). [_Drinks from the bottle_; ALICE, _in the interim,
  proceeds to the closet and brings_ KNICKERBOCKER _out, who is making for
  the door, when, hearing some one approach, he again escapes to his
  retreat._

ALICE.

  [_At door._] Oh, aunt! aunt! here’s the burgomaster coming up the
  garden.

DAME.

  Odds bodikins and pins! the burgomaster! what’s to be done now? Coming
  for the rent! What’s to be done now, I say?

RIP.

  I’ll go to bed and [think](68).

                [_Crosses._

DAME.

  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 consult my friend, Dame Wrigrim; and Alice,
  should the pedlar woman come, desire her not to leave any more of her
  rubbish here.

_As_ DAME _retires, she meets_ DERRIC(69) _to whom she curtseys._

DERRIC.

  Good evening, Dame.

DAME.

  Your honour’s servant.    [_Exit_ DAME.

RIP.

  [_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.

ALICE.

  [_Aside._] Dear, dear! what will become of my poor Knickerbocker.
  [_Exit._

DERRIC.

  Well, honest Rip, how wags the world with you?

RIP.

  Bad enough, sir, for though [labouring](70) from morn to night, I can
  make no advance in de world, though my industry is proverbial, and dat’s
  a fact.

DERRIC.

  Why, where the bottle is concerned, few, I believe, can boast so much
  industry.

RIP.

  Dat is a fact; but I suppose you have called concerning de rent.
  [_Aside._] How my heart [goes and comes!](71) [_Aloud._] Now if your
  honour will be so [good](72) enough to—

DERRIC.

  To write the receipt: certainly.

RIP.

  Nine, nine! [_Aside._] I’m stewed alive mit [perspiration.](73)

DERRIC.

  We’ll talk of the rent at a future period! There is another affair on
  which I wish to consult you.

RIP.

  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._

DERRIC.

  You know my only son, [whose life you preserved?](74)

RIP.

  Yes; and a [wild](75) harum-scarum [dog](76) he is.  [_Drinks._

DERRIC.

  He [is now stationed in New York, studying the law, and](77) has become
  a staid, sober, prudent youth; and [now](78), ’tis my wish that he
  should settle in this, his native place, and [that he](79) marry some
  honest girl, who is altogether unacquainted with the frivolities of
  cities; and I have been thinking that in a few years your daughter will
  be grown up, and would make a suitable match for him. True, there will
  be some disparity in their ages, but as the years are on the side of the
  husband, so ’twill be all the better for the wife, in having a matured
  preceptor.

RIP.

  Beg [pardon],(80) sir; but it strikes me you are only carrying on your
  rigs mit me.

DERRIC.

  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.

RIP.

  Yah! yah! [ech woll](81); I’ll give her all [I got](82); all my money;
  but she must be [d——d](83) smart if she can find [’em.](84) Take a
  drink, [Mr.](85) Burgomaster. [_Drinks._

DERRIC.

  Well, here are the two contracts, both binding and legally drawn.

RIP.

  Yah! yah! [_Drinks._—DERRIC _gives him the pen._] What you want me to do
  mit dis?

DERRIC.

  Merely sign your name.

RIP.

  Me, [put](86) my name to dat [paper], mitout my old woman knowing?—mine
  goot [friend],(87) she would skin me. [_Noise in closet._] [Schat! you
  witch!](88)

DERRIC.

  But I was about to propose, on condition of your signing the contract,
  to let you live rent free, in future.

RIP.

  Rent free! I’ll sign! but [stop]!(89) my old woman [must] play [old
  hob](90) mit me—so put down dat I can break dat contract, if I choose,
  in twenty years and a day.—[_Noise._]—[Schat! you witch!](91)

DERRIC.

  [_Writing._] As you please.(92)   [_Noise._

RIP.

  Schat! you witch!(93)                     [_Drinks._

DERRIC.

  Is that a cat, friend Rip?             [_Writing._

RIP.

  I don’t know if it is a cat—but, if it is my dog [Snider],(94) I
  wouldn’t be in his skin when de old woman comes back.

DERRIC.

  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.”

RIP.

  Yah, yah! [dos] is recht—dat is goot. Now [Mr.](95) Burgomaster, what
  you want me to do?

DERRIC.

  Sign it!

RIP.

  Wass?

DERRIC.

  Sign!

RIP.

  Give me de [paper](96).—[_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.

DERRIC.

  And there is the counterpart.                  [_Gives it._

RIP.

  Dis is for me, eh? I’ll put him in my breast [pocket](97)—yah, yah.

DERRIC.

  Now, Rip, I must bid you good evening.

RIP.

  Stop! Take some more liquor. Why, de bottle is empty. Here! Alice!
  Alice! get some more schnapps for de burgomaster.

DERRIC.

  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.

RIP.

  Stop, [Mr.](98) Burgomaster! I will go and get dat bottle
  now.—[_Rising._]—Alice, Alice! [comma see hah!](99)

          _Enter_ ALICE.

RIP.

  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](100)
  business.(101)              [_Exit, with_ DERRIC.

ALICE _advances, and brings on_ KNICKERBOCKER _from the closet._

ALICE.

  So, Mr. Knickerbocker, you are still here.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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.

ALICE.

  It’s all your own fault! Why would you come to-night!

KNICKERBOCKER.

  I shall never be able to come again—the cross vixen will take care of
  that if she catches me here.

ALICE.

  [There is but one method of avoiding her wrath:](102) slip on the
  clothes the old pedlar woman brought for sale, and I’ll warrant you’ll
  soon be tumbled out of the house.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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.](103) [KNICKERBOCKER
  _sits in arm-chair, and is attired by_ ALICE _in a woman’s dress: on
  rising, the petticoats but reach his knees._] Confound the lower
  garments! they’re too short [by half.](104)

ALICE.

  ’Tis your legs are too long [by half!](105); stoop down; [say as little
  as possible, and you’ll not be discovered.](106) [_He again sits._

          DAME _enters._

DAME.

  [Well, I’ve got back and I see Mr. Van Slaus is gone! but](107) where’s
  that varlet, Rip; out again? Oh, that Rip! that Rip! I’ll certainly be
  the death of him; or he will of me, which is most likely. Alice, who
  have you in the chair?

ALICE.

  The pedlar woman, aunt, who has come for the things she left.

DAME.

  The pedlar woman—hark’ee gossip: bring no more of your rubbish here.
  Take yourself off, and let me have a clear house.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  [_Aside._] ’Gad, I wish I was safely cleared out of it. [KNICKERBOCKER
  _rises, hobbles forward; but, forgetting the shortness of the
  petticoats, in curtseying, is discovered by the_ DAME, _from the
  exposure of his legs._

DAME.

  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._

KNICKERBOCKER.

  Needs must, when the devil drives—so here goes.

_He jumps through the window [which is dashed to pieces]_(_108_)_—and
disappears._—DAME _rushes up, with broom, towards window._—ALICE _laughs._

DAME.

  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. [DAME _drives_
  ALICE _off, and follows._

*Footnotes*

   47 “_speaking off, to the child,_” in K.

   48 Not in K.

   49 Not in K.

   50 Not in K. Instead, “he is so handsome, his figure is so elegant.”

   51 Not in K.

   52 Not in K.

   53 “mein” in K.

   54 “Ve’ll” in K.

   55 “bate” in K.

   56 “broken” in K. Also add “by your knocks.”

   57 Not in K.

   58 “Tonner” in K.

   59 “tink” in K.

   60 “finish” in K.

   61 “crockery” in K.

   62 Not in K.

   63 Not in K.

   64 “der tyfil’s” in K.

   65 “brivate” in K.

   66 “goot-hell” in K.

   67 “brosber” in K.

   68 “tink” in K.

   69 “entering” inserted, in K.

   70 “I vork” in K.

   71 “bit-and-bat” in K.

   72 “goot” in K.

   73 “bersbiration” in K.

   74 Not in K.

   75 “vild” and “tog” in K.

   76 Not in K.

   77 Not in K.

   78 Not in K.

   79 Not in K.

   80 “bardon” in K.

   81 Not in K.

   82 Not in K.

   83 “uncommon” in K.

   84 “him” in K.

   85 “Mynheer” in K.

   86 “boot” and “baber” in K.

   87 “freund” in K.

   88 In K. “S—ss cat! be quiet wid you!”.

   89 “Stob” and “vould” in K.

   90 “der tyfil” in K.

   91 In K. “S—s cat! you be quiet, or I will skin you as my vife skins
      me.”

   92 K. adds, “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.”

   93 In K., the line reads. “S—s cat! I vill cut off your tail.”

   94 “Schneider” in K.

   95 “dat ist” in K; also “Mynheer.”

   96 “baber” in K.

   97 “bocket” in K.

   98 “Mynheer” in K.

   99 Not in K.

  100 “bar-bar-tick-bartickler” in K.

  101 K. has also:

      ALICE. She wont believe it.
      RIP. Tell her—I’ll be stewed fun it’s a fact.

  102 Not in K.

  103 In K, only “But, never mind.”

  104 Not in K.

  105 Not in K.

  106 Not in K.

  107 Not in K.

  108 Not in K.


SCENE IV.


_Half dark.—A front wood.—The report of a gun is heard; shortly after_,
RIP _enters, with his fowling piece._

RIP.

  [Whip-poor-Will! egad, I think they’ll whip poor Rip.](109)—[ _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](110) I had one of de German guns which Knickerbocker talks so
  much about—one dat fires round(111) corners: la! how I’d bring dem down!
  bring dem down! were I to wing as many daily as would fill a dearborn,
  Dame wouldn’t be satisfied—not that she’s avaricious—but den she must
  have something or somebody to snarl at, and I’m the unlucky dog at whom
  she always lets fly. Now, she got at me mit de broomstick so soon as I
  got back again; if I go home again, she will break my back. Tunner
  wasser! how sleepy I am—I can’t go home, she will break my back—so I
  will sleep in de mountain to-night, and to-morrow I turn over a new leaf
  and drink no more liquor.(112)

VOICE.

  [_Outside:_] Rip Van Winkle.

_A dead pause ensues.—Suddenly a noise like the rolling of cannonballs is
heard—then a discordant shout of laughter._—RIP _wakes and sits up
astonished._

RIP.

  What [the deuce](113) is that? [my wife] at mine elbow? Oh, no, nothing
  of the kind: I must have been dreaming; so I’ll contrive to nap, since
  I’m far enough from her din. [_Reclines and sleeps._(114)

VOICE

  [_Outside._] Rip Van Winkle. [_The laugh being repeated_, RIP _again
  awakes._(115)

RIP.

  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.

SWAGGRINO.

  (116)[_Without._] Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle.

RIP.

  Rip Van Winkle! that’s me to a certainty.

_Music._—[SWAGGRINO, _the grotesque dwarf, enters_],(117) _bending beneath
the weight of a large cask which he bears on his shoulder.—He pauses,
examines _RIP, _then invites him to assist him in placing the cask on the
ground, which _RIP _complies with._

RIP.

  Hang me, if he hasn’t brought my heart up into my mouth: what an
  outlandish being, [a sea snake,](118) by dunder!

_Music._—[SWAGGRINO,](119) _pointing to the cask, [entreats_] RIP’S
_assistance in bearing it up the mountains._

RIP.

  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](120)
  chops, I’ll help you.

_Music_.—[DWARF](121) _assists in placing cask on_ RIP’S _shoulder. A loud
laugh is heard;_ RIP _is alarmed, but_ [DWARF] _signs him to proceed and
be of good courage—leads way up rocks. Another peal of laughter, and_ RIP
_hastily follows him._

*Footnotes*

  109 Not in K.

  110 “I vishes” in K. No attempt is being made to indicate small
      differences ofdialect.

  111 “der” inserted in K.

  112 In K., stage direction, “[_Lies down._]”.

  113 “der debil” in K.; also “mein frau.”

  114 In K., the stage directions are: [_Lies down to sleep._

  115 In K., the speech takes this form:
      VOICE. [_Without._] Rip Van Winkle!

  116 No name in K., only “VOICE.”

  117 In K., read. “_One of the_ SPECTRE CREW _enters._”

  118 Not in K.

  119 “_The_ IMP” in K.; also “asks.”

  120 “pale” in K.

  121 “IMP” in K.


SCENE V.


_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_.—GROTESQUE DUTCH FIGURES _with [enormous]_(_122_)_ masked heads
and lofty tapering hats, discovered playing_ [_at cards in various
places—others at Dutch pins—battledores and shuttlecocks—the majority
seated on a rock drinking and smoking._](123)

GAUDERKIN.

  Since on earth this only day,
  In fifty years we’re given to stray,
  We’ll keep it as a holiday!
  So brothers, let’s be jolly and gay.

ICKEN.

  But question, where’s that lazy [wight,](124)
  Who, soon as sun withdrew it’s light,
  Was for the earth’s rich beverage sent,
  And has such time in absence spent.

GAUDERKIN.

  Perhaps [with some](125) misfortune he’s been doomed to meet,
  Cross’d, no doubt, on the road by mortal feet.

ICKEN.

  And what the punishment that you decree
  On him, who on our mysteries makes free?

GAUDERKIN.

  Twenty years in slumber’s chain,
  Is the fate that we ordain:
  Yet, if merry wight he prove,
  Pleasing dreams his sleep shall move.

ICKEN.

  Our brother comes, and up the rugged steep,
  A mortal, see, Swaggrino’s presence keep.

OMNES.

  Twenty years in slumber’s chain,
  Is the fate that we ordain.
  He comes! he comes! let silence reign!—
  Let silence reign! let silence reign!

_The_ SPIRITS _retire up and station themselves in motionless attitudes_.

_Music_.—[SWAGGRINO](126) _ascends by the opening in the rear followed by_
RIP, _with the keg_.—RIP _advances on the left, and, with the assistance
of his conductor, places the cask on the rock.—_

_The_ SPIRITS _remain immovable._

RIP.

  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](127) Van Winkle.

_Music.—The_ FIGURES _severally advance, and stare at him, then resume
their game._ SWAGGRINO _taps the cask; motions the astonished_ RIP _to
assist him in distributing its contents into various flagons; an
injunction with which he complies._—SWAGGRINO _helps his companions._

RIP.

  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](128)  as
  silent. They’re a deadly, lively, jolly set; but I wonder what kind of
  spirits dese spirits are [drinking!](129)  Surely, dere can be no harm
  in taking a drop along mit dem.—[_Fills a flagon._]—Here
  goes!—Gentlemen, here’s your [go-to-hells,](130) and your [broad
  chopped](131)  family’s, and may you all live long and prosper.
  [_Drinks._]

OMNES.

  Ha, ha, ha!

_Music.—A grotesque dance ensues, during which_ RIP _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_ SPIRITS _utter three "ho, ho, ho’s!"—[Some of them sink.]_(132)

END OF ACT I.

*Footnotes*

  122 Not in K.

  123 In K., reads, “_at Dutch pins—the majority seated on a rock drinking
      and smoking—thunder reverberates each time a bowl is delivered_.”

  124 “ICHEN” in K.; also “sprite.”

  125 Not in K.

  126 “_The_ IMP” in K.

  127 “Frau” in K.

  128 In K., “if mein wife vere”

  129 “trinking” in K.

  130 “goot-hells” in K.

  131 Not in K.  Instead, “Your family’s goot-hells.”

  132 In K., the stage directions end, “_Moon very bright. Tableau._”



                                 ACT II.


SCENE I.


_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_ RIP’S _gun is its rusty barrel, which is at the foot of
the tree._

_Bird Music._—RIP _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._(133)

RIP.

  [_Speaking in his sleep._] Mother Van Winkle! [Dame](134) Van Winkle!
  what are you arter? Don’t be always badgering; will you never allow poor
  Rip a moment’s quiet? Curse it! don’t throw de hot water about so,
  you’ll scald one’s eyes, and so you will, and no mistake; and so you
  have. [_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._](135) How confoundedly
  stiff and sore my joints do feel; surely I must have been sleeping for a
  pretty long time! Asleep! [no;](136) I was awake and enjoying myself
  with as jolly a rum set of codgers as ever helped to toom out a keg of
  Hollands. I danced, and egad, drank with them, till I was pretty blue,
  and dat’s no mistake;—but confound it, they shouldn’t have caught me
  napping, for ’tis plain they have taken themselves off [like an
  unceremonious pack of—pack of—give an eye tooth to know who they
  were.(137) [_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!](138) the unmannerly set of sharpers! stolen
  one of the best fowling-pieces that ever made a crack; and left this
  [worthless,](139) rusty barrel, by way of exchange! What will Dame Van
  Winkle say to this! By the hookey! but she’ll comb my hair finely! Now,
  I went to sleep beneath that hickory;—’twas a mere bush. Can I be
  dreaming still? Is there any one who will be [good](140) enough to tell
  me whether it is so or not? Be blowed if I can make head or tail
  [o’nt.](141) One course only now remains,—to pluck up resolution, go
  back to Dame Van Winkle, and by dunder! she’ll soon let me know whether
  I’m awake or not!(142)

                [_Music.—Exit._

*Footnotes*

  133 In K., the scene opens thus:

      _The_ AERIAL SPIRITS _in Tableau._—_Dance of the_ SPIRITS _to the
      gleams of the rising sun._—_Tableau._

      SPIRIT OF THE MOUNTAIN. [_Speaks._]

                Wake, sleeper, wake, rouse from thy slumbers.
                  The rosy cheeked dawn is beginning to break,
                The dream-spell no longer thy spirit encumbers.
                  Gone is its power, then wake, sleeper, wake.

                The Spirits of Night can no longer enchain thee,
                  The breeze of the morn now is striving to shake
                Sweet dewdrops like gems from the copsewood and forest
                            tree.
                  All nature is smiling, then wake, sleeper, wake.

                _Tableau.—They disappear as the clouds gradually pass away
                and a full burst of bright sunshine illumines the scene._]

  134 “Frau” in K.

  135 In K., stage direction reads,“_Rises with difficulty._” All through
      this speech in K., the dialect is pronounced.

  136 “nein” in K.

  137 Not in K.

  138 In K., “donner unt blitzen.”

  139 Not in K.

  140 “goot” in K.

  141 In K., “of him.”

  142 In K., speech ends, [_Moves painfully._] “My legs do seem as if they
      vould not come after me.”


SCENE II.(143)


_A well-furnished apartment in the house of_ KNICKERBOCKER.

          LORRENNA, _now a woman, enters._

LORRENNA.

  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.

KNICKERBOCKER _and_ ALICE _enter, arm in arm. They are much more corpulent
than when seen in Act I and dressed in modern attire_,—ALICE _in the
extreme of former fashion._

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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!

LORRENNA.

  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—

ALICE.

  Ah! my dear Lorrenna, many a restless night have I had on that varlet’s
  account, as spouse knows.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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.

ALICE.

  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.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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—

ALICE.

  And you have said so little to the purpose, that I must now interpose.
  My dear Lorrenna—Gustaffe—’tis your aunt who speaks—

KNICKERBOCKER.

  There, now, pops in her word before a magistrate.

LORRENNA.

  My Gustaffe! ha! say!—

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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.

LORRENNA.

  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?

KNICKERBOCKER.

  Didn’t think fit to break the news too suddenly, but you have it.

ALICE.

  “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—

KNICKERBOCKER.

  Or somebody else, as I suppose.

          _Enter_ SOPHIA.

SOPHIA.

  Oh, sir; Squire Knickerbocker, Herman, son of the late Derric Van Slaus,
  is in the hall.

ALICE.

  That’s not the him whom I expected, at all events.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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._

SOPHIA.

  He wishes to be introduced. What is your pleasure?

KNICKERBOCKER.

  Let him be so, by all means. An honest man needn’t fear the devil.
  [_Exit_ SOPHIA.

LORRENNA.

  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._

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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.

ALICE.

  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._

KNICKERBOCKER.

  Truly, I’ve had plenty of it from you for the last eighteen years.

          _Enter_ HERMAN.

HERMAN.

  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.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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.

HERMAN.

  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!

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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.

HERMAN.

  You will not, I presume, dispute the signature of the individual who
  formed the contract?

KNICKERBOCKER.

  Oh, no! not dispute Rip’s signature, but his error in judgement. I
  happened to be a cabinet councillor at the very moment my deceased
  relative, who was _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.

HERMAN.

  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._

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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.

          LORRENNA _enters, with_ ALICE.

LORRENNA.

  My dear guardian, you have got rid of Herman, I perceive.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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.

ALICE.

  And boiled to rags. But, husband! husband, I say!

KNICKERBOCKER.

  Mr. Knickerbocker, my dear, if you please.

ALICE.

  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—

          GUSTAFFE _rushes in._

LORRENNA.

  [_Hurries to him._] My dear, dear Gustaffe!

GUSTAFFE.

  [_Embracing her._] My tender, charming Lorrenna!

KNICKERBOCKER.

  Why, Gustaffe! Bless us! why, how the spark has grown.

ALICE.

  Not quite so corpulent as you, spouse.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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—

ALICE.

  Mrs. Knickerbocker, if you please.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  Well, Mrs. Knickerbocker—

GUSTAFFE.

  Why, Knickerbocker, you have thriven well of late.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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.

ALICE.

  I court you, sirrah? what mean you?

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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.

ALICE.

  Again they meet, and sweet’s the love that meets return.

_Exeunt_ KNICKERBOCKER _and_ ALICE, _singing in concert_, “Again they
meet.”

GUSTAFFE.

  My dear Lorrenna, why this dejected look?—It is your own Gustaffe
  enfolds you in his arms.

LORRENNA.

  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.

GUSTAFFE.

  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.

LORRENNA.

  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*

  143 Scene II, in K., reads as follows:

                            SCENE SECOND.—_Chamber._

      Enter NICHOLAS VEDDER and DAME VEDDER (_formerly_ DAME VAN WINKLE).

      DAME. ’Tis very hard for the poor girl.
      VEDDER. Yes; but ’tis your fault. You shouldn’t have had a fool and
                  a sot for your first husband.
      DAME. [_Aside._] And I didn’t ought to have had a bear for my
                  second.
      VEDDER. What did you say?
      DAME. Nothing—nothing.
      VEDDER. Well, don’t say it again. Because Lowena will have to be the
                  wife of Herman Van Slaus, that’s settled!
      DAME. But he’s a most disreputable man, and my poor child detests
                  him.
      VEDDER. Well, she won’t be the first wife that has detested her
                  husband.
      DAME. No; I should think not, indeed.
      VEDDER. You should think not! What do you mean by that?
      DAME. Nothing!
      VEDDER. Well, don’t mean it again. What, do you suppose that I’ll
                  suffer my daughter-in-law to sacrifice her fortune—a
                  fortune of which we shall have our share?—Herman has
                  promised that.
      DAME. Herman will promise anything; and you know that my poor girl
                  is doatingly fond of young Gustaffe.
      VEDDER. Well, I can’t help that; but I am not going to allow her to
                  make a beggar of herself and us too, for any nonsense
                  about the man of her heart.
      DAME. Hers will break if she is compelled to—
      VEDDER. Nonsense—a woman’s heart is about the toughest object in
                  creation.
      DAME. You have given me plenty of proof that you think so.
      VEDDER. What do you intend to imply by that?
      DAME. Nothing!
      VEDDER. Well, don’t imply it again—don’t, because—

      _Enter_ Knickerbocker _and_ ALICE, _arm-in-arm—both grown stout._

      KNICKERBOCKER. Halloa! what’s going on—a matrimonial tiff? My wife
                  has just been giving me a few words, because I told her
                  that she waddles up and down, and rolls about like one
                  of our butter-laden luggers in a squall, as the Dutchmen
                  have it.
      ALICE. You have no occasion to talk, Mr. Knickerbocker, for, I am
                  sure, your corporation—
      KNICKERBOCKER. Yes, I belong to the town corporation, and to look
                  respectable, am obliged to have one of my own. Master
                  Vedder, a word with you. [_Talks aside with him._
      ALICE. [_Going to_ DAME.] You wish now, that my poor brother Rip
                  hadn’t died, don’t you?
      DAME. [_Sighing._] But I thought Nicholas Vedder would have been
                  just as easy to manage: he was as mild as a dove before
                  our marriage.
      ALICE. You ought to have known that to be allowed to wear the
                  inexpressibles by two husbands was more than the most
                  deserving of our sex had any right to expect.
      DAME. Oh, dear me! I never thought that I should live to be any
                  man’s slave.
      ALICE. Ah, we never know what we may come to! but your fate will be
                  a warning and example for me, if Mr. Knickerbocker
                  should take it into his head to leave me a widow.
      VEDDER. Mrs. Vedder, what are you whispering about there?
      DAME. Nothing!
      VEDDER. Well, don’t whisper it any more.
      ALICE. [_Aside_, to DAME.] Come along with me.
      VEDDER. Mrs. Vedder, take yourself out of the room.
      ALICE. Mr. Knickerbocker, I shall expect you to follow me
                  immediately.

                      [_Exeunt_ ALICE _and_ DAME.

      KNICKERBOCKER. And this is the last day of the term fixed on by the
                  agreement!
      VEDDER. Yes; and Herman is resolute, and so am I.
      KNICKERBOCKER. I am sorry for poor Lowena.
      VEDDER. She shouldn’t have had a fool for a father.
      KNICKERBOCKER. It was unfortunate, but I can’t exactly see that it
                  was her fault.                        [_Exeunt._


SCENE III.


_The Town of_ RIP’S _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_ RORY’S _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._

SETH

  [SLOUGH,](144) _the landlord, enters from the Hotel.—Loud shouts._

SETH.

  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_ MALE _and_ FEMALE VILLAGERS, _laughing._(_145_)_—Enter_
RIP,—_they gather round him._

RIP.

  Where I was I wonder? my neiber frints, “knost you ty spricken?”(146)

VILLAGERS.

  Ha, ha, ha!

1ST VILLAGER.

  I say, old feller, you ain’t seed nothing of no old butter firkin with
  no kiver on, no place about here?

RIP.

  No butter firkin mit no kiver no place, no I ain’t seen him.

VILLAGERS.

  Ha, ha, ha!

1ST VILLAGER.

  Who’s your barber?—[_Strokes his chin.—All laugh and exeunt._

RIP.

  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.

SETH.

  [_Coming down._] Look here, old sucker, I guess you had better go home
  and get shaved.

RIP.

  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?

SETH.

  Well, I rather guess I dus—

RIP.

  Do you know where I live?

SETH.

  Well, to look at you, I should think you didn’t live nowhere in
  particular, but stayed round in spots.

RIP.

  You live in Catskill?

SETH.

  Certain.

RIP.

  You don’t know dat I belong here?

SETH.

  No, I’m darned if I do. I should say you belonged to Noah’s ark—-

RIP.

  Did you never hear in Catskill of one Rip Van Winkle?

SETH.

  What, Rip Van Winkle, the greatest rum-sucker in the country?

RIP.

  Dat is a fact—dat is him! ha! ha! now we shall see.

SETH.

  Oh, yes, I’ve heard of him; the old coon’s been dead these twenty years.

RIP.

  Den I am dead and dat is a fact. Well, poor Rip is dead. I’m sorry for
  dat.—Rip was a goot fellow.

SETH.

  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.

RIP.

  Don’t talk so much about rum; you makes me so dry as never was.

SETH.

  Hold on a spell then, and I’ll fetch you something to wet your whistle.
  [_Exit into house._

RIP.

  Why, here is another change! dis was Rory’s house last night, [SETH
  _re-enters._] mit de sign of George the Third.

SETH.

  [The alteration of my sign is no bad sign for the country, I
  reckon.](147)

RIP.

  [_Reading._] “George Washington,”—who is he? [I remember a shoot of dat
  name, dat served under Braddock, before I went to sleep.

SETH.

  [_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.](148)

RIP.

  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;](149) if Rip is dead, [what has become of
  his old woman?](150)

SETH.

  She busted a blood-vessel swearing at a Yankee pedlar, and has gone to
  kingdom come long ago.

RIP.

  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 life—she was de wife of my
  bosom, she was mine frow for all dat. [_Whimpering._] I’m dead too, unt
  dat is a fact. Tell me my frient—

SETH.

  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_ VILLAGERS,
  _shouting._](151) Here, boys, see what you can make of this old
  critter.—I give him up for the awfulest specimen of human nature in the
  States.                                                [_Exit into
  house._

2D VILLAGER.

  Are you a Federal or a Democrat?

RIP.

  Fiddle who? damn who’s cat?

2D VILLAGER.

  What’s your politics?

RIP.

  Oh, I am on de safe side dere; I am a faithful subject of King George!

2D VILLAGER.

  He’s a Tory! Kill him! Duck him!

VILLAGERS.

  [To the horse pond! Duck him.](152)

_Music.—They seize_ RIP _and are about hurrying him off when_ GUSTAFFE
_rushes in and throws them off._(153)

GUSTAFFE.

  Stand back, [cowards.](154)

OMNES.

  Cowards!

GUSTAFFE.

  Yes, cowards! who but cowards would rush in numbers one grey-haired man?

RIP.

  Yah, yah, dat’s a fact!

GUSTAFFE.

  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?

RIP.

  I don’t know; do you?

GUSTAFFE.

  You appear bewildered: can I assist you?

RIP.

  Just tell me where I live, dat’s all I want to know.

GUSTAFFE.

  And don’t you know?

RIP.

  I’m d——d fun I does.

GUSTAFFE.

  What is your name?

RIP.

  Why, I was Rip Van Winkle.

GUSTAFFE.

  Rip Van Winkle? impossible!

RIP.

  Well, I won’t swear to it myself.

GUSTAFFE.

  Stay,—you have a daughter?

RIP.

  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.

GUSTAFFE.

  Do you remember entering into a contract, binding your daughter to marry
  Herman Van Slaus?

RIP.

  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.

GUSTAFFE.

  Last night! His brain wanders: yet it must be he; come, come with me,
  old man.

RIP.

  Where are you going to take me to?

GUSTAFFE.

  Your daughter.

RIP.

  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*

  144 In K., “Kilderkin.”

  145 In K., “_and pointing at_ RIP, _who comes_ on.”

  146 In K., “Vhere I was I wonder? my kneiber freunds, sprechen sie
      deutsch?”

  147 Not in K.

  148 Not in K. After “who is he,” read, “I do not know him, but—” and
      continue with next Rip speech.

  149 “But, now, I’m going to ask a ticklish question” in K. This speech
      is in dialect in K.

        150 In K., “is his old voman dead too?”
      SETH. No. She’s alive and kicking.
      RIP. Kicking—yes, she always vas dat.
      SETH. And she’s married agin.
      RIP. She’s done what agin?
      SETH. She’s got a second husband.
      RIP. Second husband!—I pities the poor creetur. But there vas—vill
                  you tell me, my friend—
      SETH. I can’t stop any longer, because—

  151 In K., the stage directions are, “VILLAGERS _hurry on, shouting._”

  152 In K., read, “Duck him—duck him.”

  153 In K., read, “_Music. All are rushing on_ RIP.—GUSTAVE _enters._”

        154 In K., read, are you not ashamed—a score of you to attack a
                  single man?
      RIP. [_Aside._] Yes. I am a single man—now my vife is marry agin;
                  dat is a fact!
      From this point, the two plays differ so that what remains in Kerr
                  is here reproduced.
      GUSTAVE. And a poor old, gray-haired man.
      RIP. Yes, I am poor, dat is a fact; but I know I’m not old, and I
                  can’t be gray-haired.
      GUSTAVE. Take yourselves off! What cause had you given them to
                  attack you?
                VILLAGERS _sneak off._
      RIP. I don’t know—do you?
      GUSTAVE. [_Smiling._] How should I—
      RIP. I say—vhere do I live?
      GUSTAVE. Don’t you know?
      RIP. I’m stewed fun I does. But, young man, you seems to know
                  somezing, so, perhaps you knows Rip Van Winkle?
      GUSTAVE. Young Rip Van Winkle—I should think I do.
      RIP. [_Aside._] Here is von vhat knows me! dat is goot!
      GUSTAVE. I only wish his father hadn’t gone away and died, twenty
                  years ago.
      RIP. [_Aside._] His fader! Ah! he means my young Rip, and I’m dead
                  myself arter all—dat is a fact.
      GUSTAVE. Poor old Rip Van Winkle—perhaps you know his daughter?
      RIP. His daughter—yes, I tink I—and she is not dead, like her fader?
      GUSTAVE. No, thank heaven! and she would have been my wife before
                  this but for—
      RIP. But for what, young man?
                _Enter_ LOWENA.
      LOWENA. Gustave.         [_Moving to him._
      GUSTAVE. Ah! dear Lowena!
      RIP. Lowena! Ah! dat is my daughter—and I have a son too, a lublicka
                  boy; but my daughter is a girl, and I always lub my
                  leetle girl so much, ven she vas only so big—and I must
                  not hug her now to my poor heart, because she—she has
                  got another fader—and I am dead—yes, dey all tell me dat
                  is a fact! I am dead to meinself and—and I am dead to my
                  leetle girl.
      LOWENA. Oh, yes, Gustave, it is indeed a sad misfortune for us both,
                  that my father should have entered into a contract which
                  had for its object to coerce me into becoming the wife
                  of Herman Van Slaus.
      RIP. [_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.
      GUSTAVE. And having loved you so long, is it now impossible that you
                  can become my wife?
      LOWENA. No, not impossible; but—oh, my poor dear father, if you had
                  but survived to see this day!
      RIP. [_Aside._] I wish what I had—but I am dead, dat is a fact.
                _Enter_ HERMAN VAN SLAUS.
      LOWENA. Oh, Gustave! see, protect me from that wicked man—I will be
                  thine, and only thine!
      HERMAN. No, Lowena; you will be _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.
      RIP. [_Aside._] Dat is young Slaus; and he is as big a tam rascal as
                  vas his resbectable fader.
      HERMAN. Hereafter, Lowena, I will cause you to repent that you have
                  given a rival to the man to whom, from your very
                  childhood, you have been pledged and bound.
      RIP. Herman Van Slaus, _you_ are bledged to old Nick, and vill never
                  be redeemed.
      HERMAN. Who is this miserable old wretch?
      GUSTAVE. I would kill you sooner than you should become the husband
                  of my heart’s adored.
                _Enter_ KNICKERBOCKER _and_ ALICE.
      KNICKERBOCKER. So, there you are, Master Herman, sticking to your
                  rascally work like a crab to its shell, as fishmongers
                  have it.
      ALICE. I should like to throw him into a saucepan of boiling water
                  till he was done to rags.
      RIP. [_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_ NICHOLAS VEDDER _and_ DAME VEDDER.
      DAME. Oh, do try if you cannot save my poor girl!
      RIP. [_Aside._] Tonner unt blitzen! dat is mein frau!
                  [_Retreating._] No, no! I forget—she not is mine frau
                  now!                    [_Chuckles._
      DAME. Let him take half the fortune and—
      VEDDER. What is that you observe?
      DAME. Nothing—nothing!
      VEDDER. Then don’t observe it any more.
      DAME. I—I only—
      VEDDER. [_Shouting._] Silence!
      RIP. [_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!
      HERMAN. Nicholas Von Vedder, say—[_Producing paper._]—is this
                  contract to be fulfilled?
      VEDDER. Certainly. Lowena, the time for trifling is past; you have
                  delayed until the very last hour, and must now at once
                  consent to become Herman’s wife.
      LOWENA. Never! Welcome poverty, if I may be wealthy only with that
                  man for my husband. Whatever privations I may be made to
                  endure, I shall not repine; for he whom I love will
                  share them with me.
      RIP. [_Aside._] Dat is mine own girl, I vill swear to dat.
      GUSTAVE. I am poor, Lowena, but my love will give me courage to toil
                  manfully, and heaven will smile upon my efforts and
                  enable me to replace that fortune which, for my sake,
                  you so readily sacrifice.
      HERMAN. Well, be it as you will. This document gives me a claim
                  which may not be evaded. [_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.”
      RIP. [_Aside._] Yes, dat is a fact—I remember dat baber, and I’ve
                  got him somevheres.                       [_Feels in his
                  pockets._
      VEDDER. Lowena, I command that you consent to become Herman’s wife—I
                  will not suffer that your fortune be sacrificed to—
      HERMAN. And here is the now useless codicil.
      RIP. [_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.”
      HERMAN. How came you by that document?
      RIP. You see I’ve got it, and dat is a fact.
      HERMAN. Who gave it to you?
      RIP. Your old blackguard of a fader.
      DAME. Oh, you are—you are—
      RIP. Yes, I am—I am Rip Van Winkle! [_All start._—DAME, _with a loud
                  scream, falls into_ Knickerbocker’s _arms._] Dere! for
                  de first time in my life, I have doubled up my old
                  woman!
                KNICKERBOCKER _carries off_ DAME.
      LOWENA. Oh, it is my father—my dear, dear father! [_Runs into his
                  arms._
      RIP. Yes, and you are mein taughter, my darling dat I always was
                  love so! Oh, bless your heart, how you have grown since
                  last night as you was a little girl.
      ALICE. [_Embracing him._] Oh, my poor dear brother.
      RIP. Yes, I tink I am your broder ’cos you is my sister.
                KNICKERBOCKER _returns._
      ALICE. And here is my husband.
      RIP. He is a much deal uglier, dan he used to vas before.
      KNICKERBOCKER. [_Embracing him._] My blessed brother-in-law.
      VEDDER. Ah! and now you have come back, I suppose you want your
                  wife!
      RIP. No, I’ll be tam if I do! You’ve got her, and you keep her—I
                  von’t never have her no more.
      VEDDER. I sha’n’t have her—I have done with her, and glad to be rid
                  of her.
                  [_Exit._
      RIP. Ha, ha! Then my poor frau is a vidder, with two husbands, an’
                  she ain’t got none at all.
      HERMAN. It is Rip Van Winkle, and alive!
      RIP. Yes, and to the best of my belief, I have not never been dead
                  at all.
      HERMAN. And I am left to poverty and despair.        [_Exit._
      RIP. And serve you right too—I’m stewed fun dat is fact. [_Looking
                  round._] But I had a leetle boy, last night—vhere is my
                  young baby boy, my leetle Rip?
      ALICE. I saw him just now—oh, here he is.
                _Enter, young Rip Van Winkle, a very tall young man._
      RIP. Is dat my leetle baby boy? How he is grown since last night.
                  Come here, you young Rip. I am your fader. Vell, he is
                  much like me—he is a beautiful leetle boy.
      KNICKERBOCKER. But tell us, Rip, where have you hid yourself for the
                  last twenty years?
      RIP. Ech woll! ech woll! Vhen I take mine glass, I vill tell mine
                  strange story, and drink the health of mine friends—and,
                  ladies and gentlemen, I will drink to your good hells
                  and your future families, and may you all—and may Rip
                  Van Winkle too—live long and brosber.
                _Curtain._


SCENE IV.


KNICKERBOCKER’S _House as before._

          KNICKERBOCKER, ALICE _and_ LORRENNA _enter._

KNICKERBOCKER.

  Give me joy, dears; I’m elected unanimously—elected a member of the
  Legislature.

ALICE.

  Why, spouse!

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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_ HERMAN.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  Well, sir, what the devil do you want?

HERMAN.

  I came to claim this lady’s fortune or her hand.

ALICE.

  Knock him down, spouse.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  Mr. Knickerbocker, my dear.

ALICE.

  Oh, bother! I know if he comes near my niece, woman as I am, I’ll
  scratch his eyes out.

HERMAN.

  Mr. Knickerbocker.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  The honourable member from —— County, if you please.

HERMAN.

  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._

KNICKERBOCKER.

  ’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.

LORRENNA.

  My dear uncle, what is to be done in this emergency?

KNICKERBOCKER.

  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.

GUSTAFFE.

  [_Entering._] Bravo! Nunkey Knickerbocker! you are no blind pilot. Awake
  to breakers and quicksand, Knickerbocker.

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._


SCENE LAST.


_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_ JUDGE _discovered, seated.—The galleries filled with
auditors_.—HERMAN.—KNICKERBOCKER.

JUDGE.

  Mr. Knickerbocker, you will please to bring your client into court.

          KNICKERBOCKER _goes off, and returns with_ Lorrenna _and_ ALICE.

JUDGE.

  Be pleased to let your ladies take seats. [LORRENNA _and_ ALICE _sit._

HERMAN.

  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_ JUDGE.

JUDGE.

  [_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?

HERMAN.

  Mr. Knickerbocker, if he dare be honest, will attest it.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  Dare be honest, sir! presume you to question my veracity? How was that
  bond obtained?

HERMAN.

  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.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  It’s a lie! Hum!—

JUDGE.

  Restrain this violence! a court of justice must not be swayed by such
  proceedings.

HERMAN.

  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.

LORRENNA.

  [_Comes down stage._] All my hopes vanish—bleak and dreary is the
  perspective.

HERMAN.

  [_Advances._] At last I triumph! Now, lady, your hand or your
  inheritance.

LORRENNA.

  My hand! never! Welcome were every privation to an union with one so
  base.

JUDGE.

  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.

LORRENNA.

  Oh, Alice, take me home: poverty, death, anything rather than wed the
  man I cannot love.                             [_She is led off by_
  ALICE.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  Why, damn it, Judge!

JUDGE.

  Mr. Knickerbocker!

KNICKERBOCKER.

  I beg pardon, I meant no disrespect to the court, but I had thought
  after—

JUDGE.

  I have decided, Mr. Knickerbocker.

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._

JUDGE.

  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—

HERMAN.

  ’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_ GUSTAFFE _and_ RIP.

GUSTAFFE.

  ’Tis false! Rip Van Winkle stands before you!

OMNES.

  Rip Van Winkle!

HERMAN.

  You, Rip Van Winkle! Van Winkle come back after such a lapse of time?
  Impossible!

RIP.

  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.

HERMAN.

  If this, indeed, be Rip Van Winkle, where has he hid himself for twenty
  years?

JUDGE.

  What answer do you make to this?

RIP.

  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.

HERMAN.

  You hear him, sir.

JUDGE.

  This is evidently an impostor; take him into custody.

GUSTAFFE.

  Stay! delay your judgement one moment till I bring the best of
  proofs—his child and sister. [_Exit._

HERMAN.

  If you are Rip Van Winkle, some one here would surely recognize you.

RIP.

  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.

HERMAN.

  So, indeed, it seems.

RIP.

  And have you forgot de time I saved your life?

HERMAN.

  Why, I—I—I—

RIP.

  In course you have! a short memory is convenient for you, Herman.

HERMAN.

  [_Aside_] Should this indeed be he! [_Aloud._] I demand judgement.

JUDGE.

  Stay! If you be Rip Van Winkle you should have a counterpart of this
  agreement. Have you such a paper?

RIP.

  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_ JUDGE, _who reads it._

JUDGE.

  ’Tis Rip Van Winkle! [_All gather round and shake hands with him._

RIP.

  Oh! everybody knows me now!

HERMAN.

  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._

GUSTAFFE.

  [_Without._] Room there! who will keep a child from a long lost father’s
  arms?

          _Enter_ GUSTAFFE, _with_ LORRENNA, ALICE _and_ KNICKERBOCKER.

LORRENNA.

  My father!           [_Embraces_ RIP.

RIP.

  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?

ALICE.

  Why, brother!—

RIP.

  Alice! give us a hug. Who is dat?

ALICE.

  Why, my husband—Knickerbocker.

RIP.

  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?

KNICKERBOCKER.

  Oh, he was in the court-house just now. Ah! here he comes!

          _Enter_ RIP VAN WINKLE, JR.

RIP.

  Is dat my baby? come here, Rip, come here, you dog; I am your father.
  What an interesting brat it is.

KNICKERBOCKER.

  But tell us, Rip, where have you hid yourself for the last twenty years?

RIP.

  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.






TRANSCRIBERS’ NOTES


The following substitutions were applied to the text by Project Gutenberg
proofers and transcribers—

On page 43, Rory speaking:



though, for its full of emptiness.—Ha, ha, ha!
though, for it’s full of emptiness.—Ha, ha, ha!


In the long footnote on page 62, Dame speaking:



Her’s will break if she is compelled to—
Hers will break if she is compelled to—