Rip Van Winkle
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RIP VAN WINKLE
ARTHUR RACKHAM’S ILLUSTRATIONS
THE ALLIES’ FAIRY BOOK 6s. net
A CHRISTMAS CAROL By CHARLES DICKENS 6s. net
MOTHER GOOSE, THE OLD NURSERY RHYMES 6s. net
ARTHUR RACKHAM’S BOOK OF PICTURES 21s. net
AESOP’S FABLES
A New Translation by V. S. VERNON JONES, with an
Introduction by G. K. CHESTERTON 6s. net
THE SPRINGTIDE OF LIFE
Poems of Childhood by A. C. Swinburne 10s. 6d. net
CINDERELLA Retold by C. S. EVANS 7s. 6d. net
THE RING OF THE NIBLUNG By RICHARD
WAGNER. Translated by MARGARET ARMOUR
I. THE RHINEGOLD AND THE VALKYRIE
II. SIEGFRIED AND THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS 21s. net each
UNDINE By DE LA MOTTE FOUQUÉ Adapted from
the German by W. L. COURTNEY. 10s. 6d.
RIP VAN WINKLE
By WASHINGTON IRVING. With 24 selected plates. 10s. 6d. net
A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM
By WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 21s. net
ALICE’S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND
By LEWIS CARROLL. With a Proem by AUSTIN DOBSON. 6s. net
RIP VAN WINKLE
Complete Edition. By WASHINGTON IRVING. 21s. net
THE INGOLDSBY LEGENDS OF MIRTH AND MARVEL
By THOMAS INGOLDSBY, Esq. 21s. net
LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
RIP VAN WINKLE
BY · WASHINGTON
IRVING
ILLUSTRATED · BY
ARTHUR · RACKHAM
LONDON: WILLIAM · HEINEMANN
NEW · YORK: DOUBLEDAY · PAGE · & Co.
_Complete Edition, with 51 Illustrations in Colour. First
published (15s. net) September 1905._
_New Impressions January 1907; August 1908; May 1909; November
1910._
_Cheaper Issue, with 24 Illustrations in Colour and many new
Illustrations in the Text October 1916. New Impression 1917,
1919._
ILLUSTRATIONS
IN COLOUR
To face page
“He used to console himself by frequenting a kind of
perpetual club of the sages, philosophers and other idle
personages, which held its sessions before a small inn”
_Frontispiece_
“Certain biscuit-bakers have gone so far as to imprint his
likeness on their New-Year Cakes” x
“These mountains are regarded by all good wives, far and
near, as perfect barometers” x
“Some of the houses of the original settlers” 2
“A curtain-lecture is worth all the sermons in the world
for teaching the virtues of patience and long-suffering” 2
“Taught them to fly kites” 2
“His cow would go astray or get among the cabbages” 4
“His children were as ragged and wild as if they belonged
to nobody” 4
“Equipped in a pair of his father’s cast-off galligaskins,
which he had as much ado to hold up as a fine lady does her
train in bad weather” 4
“So that he was fain to draw off his forces and take to
the outside of the house--the only side which, in truth,
belongs to a henpecked husband.” 6
“A company of odd-looking persons playing at ninepins” 10
“They maintained the gravest faces” 12
“They stared at him with such fixed, statue-like gaze, that
his heart turned within him and his knees smote together” 12
“He even ventured to taste the beverage, which he found had
much of the flavour of excellent Hollands” 12
“Surely,” thought he, “I have not slept here all night....
Oh! that flagon! that wicked flagon! what excuse shall I
make to Dame Van Winkle?” 12
“They all stared at him with equal marks of surprise and
invariably stroked their chins” 14
“A troop of strange children ran at his heels, hooting
after him and pointing at his grey beard” 14
“The dogs, too, not one of whom he recognised for an old
acquaintance, barked at him as he passed” 14
“He found the house gone to decay.... ‘My very dog,’ sighed
poor Rip, ‘has forgotten me’” 16
“They crowded round him, eyeing him from head to foot with
great curiosity” 16
Rip’s daughter and grandchild 20
“He preferred making friends among the rising generation,
with whom he soon grew into great favour” 24
“The Kaatsberg or Catskill mountains have always been a
region full of fable” 26
They were ruled by an old squaw spirit 28
IN TEXT
Page
These fairy mountains 2
Long stories of ghosts, witches, and Indians 5
Peter was the most ancient inhabitant of the village 21
The Kaatskill mountains had always been haunted by
strange beings 25
Very subject to marvellous events and appearances 30
When these clouds broke, woe betide the valleys 33
With a loud ho! ho! 35
By Woden, God of Saxons,
From whence comes Wensday, that is Wodensday.
Truth is a thing that ever I will keep
Unto thylke day in which I creep into
My sepulchre----
CARTWRIGHT.
INTRODUCTION
The following tale was found among the papers of the late Diedrich
Knickerbocker, an old gentleman of New York, who was very curious in
the Dutch history of the province, and the manners of the descendants
from its primitive settlers. His historical researches, however, did
not lie so much among books as among men; for the former are lamentably
scanty on his favourite topics; whereas he found the old burghers, and
still more their wives, rich in that legendary lore so invaluable to
true history. Whenever, therefore, he happened upon a genuine Dutch
family, snugly shut up in its low-roofed farmhouse, under a spreading
sycamore, he looked upon it as a little clasped volume of black-letter,
and studied it with the zeal of a book-worm.
The result of all these researches was a history of the province
during the reign of the Dutch governors, which he published some years
since. There have been various opinions as to the literary character
of his work, and, to tell the truth, it is not a whit better than it
should be. Its chief merit is its scrupulous accuracy, which indeed
was a little questioned on its first appearance, but has since been
completely established; and it is now admitted into all historical
collections as a book of unquestionable authority.
The old gentleman died shortly after the publication of his work; and
now that he is dead and gone, it cannot do much harm to his memory to
say that his time might have been much better employed in weightier
labours. He, however, was apt to ride his hobby in his own way; and
though it did now and then kick up the dust a little in the eyes of
his neighbours, and grieve the spirit of some friends, for whom he
felt the truest deference and affection, yet his errors and follies
are remembered “more in sorrow than anger,” and it begins to be
suspected that he never intended to injure or offend. But however his
memory may be appreciated by critics, it is still held dear by many
folks whose good opinion is well worth having; particularly by certain
biscuit-bakers, who have gone so far as to imprint his likeness on
their new-year cakes; and have thus given him a chance for immortality,
almost equal to the being stamped on a Waterloo medal, or a Queen
Anne’s farthing.
RIP VAN WINKLE
Whoever has made a voyage up the Hudson must remember the Kaatskill
mountains. They are a dismembered branch of the great Appalachian
family, and are seen away to the west of the river, swelling up to a
noble height, and lording it over the surrounding country. Every change
of season, every change of weather, indeed, every hour of the day,
produces some change in the magical hues and shapes of these mountains,
and they are regarded by all the good wives, far and near, as perfect
barometers. When the weather is fair and settled, they are clothed in
blue and purple, and print their bold outlines on the clear evening
sky; but sometimes, when the rest of the landscape is cloudless, they
will gather a hood of grey vapours about their summits, which, in the
last rays of the setting sun, will glow and light up like a crown of
glory.
At the foot of these fairy mountains, the voyager may have descried
the light smoke curling up from a village, whose shingle-roofs gleam
among the trees, just where the blue tints of the upland melt away
into the fresh green of the nearer landscape. It is a little village,
of great antiquity, having been founded by some of the Dutch colonists
in the early times of the province, just about the beginning of the
government of the good Peter Stuyvesant (may he rest in peace!), and
there were some of the houses of the original settlers standing within
a few years, built of small yellow bricks brought from Holland, having
latticed windows and gable fronts, surmounted with weathercocks.
In that same village and in one of these very houses (which, to tell
the precise truth, was sadly time-worn and weather-beaten), there
lived, many years since, while the country was yet a province of Great
Britain, a simple, good-natured fellow, of the name of Rip Van Winkle.
He was a descendant of the Van Winkles who figured so gallantly in
the chivalrous days of Peter Stuyvesant, and accompanied him to the
siege of Fort Christina. He inherited, however, but little of the
martial character of his ancestors. I have observed that he was a
simple, good-natured man; he was, moreover, a kind neighbour, and
an obedient, hen-pecked husband. Indeed, to the latter circumstance
might be owing that meekness of spirit which gained him such universal
popularity; for those men are apt to be obsequious and conciliating
abroad, who are under the discipline of shrews at home. Their tempers,
doubtless, are rendered pliant and malleable in the fiery furnace of
domestic tribulation; and a curtain-lecture is worth all the sermons
in the world for teaching the virtues of patience and long-suffering.
A termagant wife may, therefore, in some respects, be considered a