‘A Young Sportsman’, by Robert Edge Pine (1730-1788), painted in 1766. Pine was born in London, and lived most of his life in England, but in around 1784 visited Philadelphia in what had recently become the United States of America, and remained there until his death. He painted a picture of George Washington signing the Declaration of Independence, and another portrait of Washington was subsequently used as an illustration for Irving’s biography of America’s first President.
Part 1 of 2
BACK in the 1760s, there lived near New York, beneath the Catskill Mountains, a farmer called Rip van Winkle. He had a smallholding, which he neglected; a wife, who scolded him; a raggedy little son and daughter; and a dog called Wolf. Rip’s days were spent among his neighbours, in the ‘King George’ pub, or hunting woodcock with Wolf.
One evening, Rip had sauntered into the hills with Wolf and his fowling-piece when he heard someone calling his name. Presently, a short, bearded fellow appeared, carrying a huge keg of ale. Rip kindly helped them both through a narrow cleft between the rocks, and then stared about in wonder.
There, in a wide dell, quaintly clad folk who might have stepped off a Dutch master’s canvas were drinking, and playing ninepins with outsized wooden balls — yet every face was blank, expressionless, with not a smile among them. Rip took a dazed sip of ale (he found he was holding a cup), then another, and another...
Précis
Some years before the American Revolution, a farmer named Rip van Winkle was in the Catskill Mountains one evening, when a strange man asked him to help carry a keg of ale. Rip obliged, only to fall in with a gloomy company playing ninepins, and drinking ale; and when Rip tried some, he fell into a deep sleep. (58 / 60 words)
Part Two
On the Fourth of July each year, the ‘George Washington’ in Warton, Lancashire, decks itself with USA and British flags to celebrate American Independence. The break-up deserves celebration: not only did it save Britain the expense of keeping thirteen unwilling colonies under her thumb, but it turned an over-taxed and over-regulated prisoner, locked inside a single market, into a big-spending free trade partner. George Washington’s English antecedents were, however, not from Lancashire, but from Washington Old Hall in County Durham (or Tyne and Wear, if you prefer).
WHEN Rip awoke, the sun was shining. He rose, stiffly, and reached for his gun: but it was rusted and rotten. He whistled for Wolf: but Wolf never came. And when Rip turned sorrowfully for home, he found himself stumbling through a barely recognisable landscape.
The village was changed too, and it was not just the unwonted air of bustle. Old friends had died in a war. The former schoolmaster was now a grandee in something called Congress, and the King George was now the General Washington (whoever he was). In fact, twenty years had passed, and Rip had slept through the American Revolution.*
Doubters tapped their foreheads, but old Peter Vanderdonk remembered him, and was adamant that Rip’s wild tale only confirmed local legend. That quite satisfied the rest. Rip’s grown-up daughter took him into her home; and as his wife had died of apoplexy (scolding a pedlar) Rip lived happily ever after — though he never quite understood why they renamed the ‘King George’.
The American War of Independence began in 1775 with clashes between British troops and rebels at Lexington and Concord following The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere, though the first stirrings had come with the so-called The Boston Tea Party in 1773. It ended in 1783 with recognition of the sovereign United States of America, having seen bloodshed on both sides of the Atlantic.
Précis
When Rip woke, he found his gun rusted, his dog gone, and the landscape strangely changed. His village seemed different too, from the people, who did not recognise him, to the very atmosphere. Eventually he realised he had slept for twenty years, and even missed the American Revolution. Fortunately, his grown-up daughter took him in, and Rip was content. (59 / 60 words)
