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

by Charles Burke

First Project Gutenberg Edition , (December 18, 2007)

[pg 23]

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]

[pg 024]

This is the history of the evolution of a play. Many hands were concerned in its growth, but its increase in scenic effect as well as in dialogue was a stage one, rather than prompted by literary fervour. No dramatization of Washington Irving's immortal story has approached the original in art of expression or in vividness of scene. But, if historical record can be believed, it is the actor, rather than the dramatist, who has vied with Irving in the vitality of characterization and in the romantic ideality of figure and speech. Some of our best comedians found attraction in the r�le, yet, though Charles Burke and James A. Herne are recalled, by those who remember back so far, for the very Dutch lifelikeness of the genial old drunkard, Joseph Jefferson overtops all memories by his classic portrayal.

As far as literary value of the versions is concerned, it would be small loss if none of them were available. They form a mechanical frame-work as devoid of beauty as the skeleton scarecrow in Percy Mackaye's play, which was based on Hawthorne's “Feathertop” in “Mosses from an Old Manse.” It was only when the dry bones were clothed and breathed into by the actor's personality that the dramatizations lived. One can recall no plot that moves naturally in these versions; the transformation of the story into dialogue was mechanical, done by men to whom hack-work was the easiest thing in the world. Comparing the Kerr play with the Burke revision of it, when the text is strained for richness of phrase it might contain, only one line results, and is worth remembering; it is Burke's original contribution,—“Are we so soon forgot when we are gone?”

The frequency with which “Rip Van Winkle” was dramatized would indicate that, very early in the nineteenth century, managers of the theatre were assiduous hunters after material which might be considered native. Certainly Rip takes his place with Deuteronomy Dutiful, Bardwell Slote, Solon Shingle and Davy Crockett as of the soil.

Irving's “Sketch Book” was published in 1819, and, considering his vast interest in the stage, and the dramatic work done by [pg 025] 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 [pg 026] 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 [pg 027] 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, [pg 028] The Fate of Frankenstein,” taken from the French of J. T. Merle and A. N. B�raud. He did constant translation, and it is interesting to note the similarity between his “The Wandering Boys! or, The Castle of Olival,” announced as an original comedy, and M. M. Noah's play of the same name.

There is valuable material in possession of Mr. James K. Hackett for a much needed life of his father. This may throw light on his negotiations with Kerr; it may also detail more thoroughly than the records now show why it was that, when he went to England in 1832, he engaged Bayle Bernard to make a new draft of the piece, given in New York at the Park Theatre, September 4, 1833. It may have been because he saw, when he reached London, a version which Bernard had shaped for the Adelphi Theatre, 1831–32, when Yates, John Reeve, and J. B. Buckstone had played together. But I am inclined to think that, whatever the outlines of the piece as given by Hackett, it was his acting which constituted the chief creative part of the performance. Like Jefferson, he must have been largely responsible for the finished product.

Hackett's success in dialect made him eager for any picturesque material which would exploit this ability. Obviously, local character was the best vehicle. That was his chief interest in encouraging American plays. Bayle Bernard had done writing for him before “Rip.” In 1831, J. K. Paulding's “The Lion of the West” had proven so successful, as to warrant Bernard's transferring the popular Col. Nimrod Wildfire to another play, “The Kentuckian.” Then, in 1837, Hackett corresponded with Washington Irving about dramatizing the “Knickerbocker History,” which plan was consummated by Bernard as “Three Dutch Governors,” even though Irving was not confident of results. Hackett went out of his way for such native material. Soon after his appearance as Rip, the following notice appeared in the New York Evening Post, for April 24, 1830:

Prize Comedy.—The Subscriber, desirous of affording some pecuniary inducement for more frequent attempts at dramatizing the manners and peculiarities of our own country, and the numerous subjects and incidents connected with its history, hereby offers to the writer of the best Comedy in 3 acts, in which a principal character shall be an original of this country, the sum of Two Hundred and Fifty Dollars—the decision to be made by a committee of competent literary gentlemen, whose names shall duly be made public. [pg 029] 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 r�le of Seth. Durang, however, disagrees with this date, giving it under the heading of the “Summer Season of 1850 at the Arch Street Theatre,” and the specific time as August 19. In his short career Burke won an enviable position as an actor. “He had an eye and a face,” wrote Joe Jefferson, “that told their meaning before he spoke, a voice that seemed to come from the heart itself, penetrating—but melodious.” He was slender, emaciated, sensitive,—and full of lively response to things. Like all of the Jeffersons, he was a born comedian, and critics concede that W. E. Burton feared his rivalry. Between Burke and his half-brother, there was a profound attraction; they had “barn stormed” together, and through Burke's consideration it was that Joe was first encouraged and furthered in Philadelphia. Contrasting Burton and Burke, Jefferson wrote in his “Autobiography:”

Burton coloured highly, and laid on the effects with a liberal brush, while Burke was subtle, incisive and refined. Burton's features were strong and heavy, and his figure was portly and ungainly. Burke was lithe and graceful. His face was plain, but wonderfully expressive. The versatility of this rare actor was remarkable, his pathos being quite as striking a feature as his comedy. … His dramatic effects sprung more from intuition than from study; and, as was said of Barton Booth, “the blind might have seen him in his voice, and the deaf have heard him in his visage.”

But the height of Jefferson's praise was reached when he said: “Charles Burke was to acting what Mendelssohn was to music. He did not have to work for his effects, as I do; he was not analytical, as I am. Whatever he did came to him naturally, as grass grows or water runs; it was not talent that informed his art, but genius.”

Such was the comedian who next undertook the r�le of Rip. How often his own phrase, “Are we so soon forgot,” has been applied to the actor and his art! The only preservative we have of this art is either in individual expressions of opinion or else in contemporary criticism. Fortunately, John Sleeper Clarke, another estimable comedian of the Jefferson family, has left an impression of how Burke read that one famous line of his. He has said:

No other actor has ever disturbed the impression that the profound pathos of Burke's voice, face, and gesture created; it fell upon the senses like the culmination of all mortal despair, and the actor's figure, as the low, sweet tones died away, symbolized more the ruin of the representative of the race than the sufferings of an individual: his awful loss and loneliness seemed to clothe him with a supernatural dignity and grandeur which commanded the sympathy and awe of his audience.

Never, said Clarke, who often played Seth to Burke's Rip, was he disappointed in the poignant reading of that line—so tender, pathetic and simple that even the actors of his company were affected by it.

However much these various attempts at dramatization may have served their theatrical purpose, they have all been supplanted in memory by the play as evolved by Jefferson and Boucicault, who began work upon it in 1861. The incident told by Jefferson of how he arrived by his decision to play Rip, as his father had done before him, is picturesque. One summer day, [pg 031] 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 [pg 032] 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 r�le. His royalties, as time progressed, were fabulous, or rather his profits, for actor, manager, and author were all rolled into one. He deserted a large repertory of parts as the years passed and his strength declined. But to the very end he never deserted Rip. At his death the play passed to his son, Thomas. The Jefferson version has been published with an interpretative introduction by him.

When it was first given, the play was scored for the apparent padding of the piece in order to keep Jefferson longer on the stage. The supernatural elements could not hoodwink the critics, but, as Jefferson added humanity to the part, and created a poetic, lovable character, the play was greatly strengthened. [pg 033] In fact Jefferson was the play. His was a classic embodiment, preserved in its essential details in contemporary criticism and vivid pictures.

[pg 034]

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

The Spectre Crew of the Mountains, Farmers, &c.

A Lapse of Twenty Years occurs between the Acts.

Act II. 1783.

CAST OF THE CHARACTERS

ACT II.—1783.—A lapse of twenty years is supposed to occur between

the First and Second Acts.

ACT II.—1783.—A lapse of twenty years is supposed to occur between

the First and Second Acts.

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? [pg 043] 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,—