Washington Irving’s The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow (1820)

Well, Halloween is coming round again so I thought it timely to write about a compilation of creepy tales that I have recently finished reading by the 19th century American short-story writer Washington Irving (1783–1859). If you are unfamiliar with the author, you may be more familiar with the titles of two of his more famous stories: Rip Van Winkle (1819) and The Legend of Sleepy Hollow (1820). He was one of the first American writers to earn acclaim in Europe, and he was admired by the likes of Lord Byron, Charles Dickens, Mary Shelley and Walter Scott.

Irving had more strings to his bow than just short story writing: he was a diplomat, serving as American ambassador to Spain in the 1840s, and a historian, responsible for several histories of 15th-century Spain. This no doubt explains why several of Irving’s stories are set in and around Granada and involve ghostly encounters in places like the Alhambra Palace with long-gone Moors from before the Reconquista. Many other stories, on the other hand, are set deep inside another area close to Irving’s heart, rural New York State including the Catskill Mountains (where Rip Van Winkle is set) and the bucolic environs of modern-day Tarrytown on the Hudson river (where The Legend of Sleepy Hollow is set and where, in fact, Irving would end his days).

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow story revolves around local schoolmaster Ichabod Crane and his competition with town alpha-male “Brom Bones” for the hand of beautiful heiress Katrina van Tassel. The supernatural element to the story, however, is provided by local legend which has it that a Hessian soldier who was decapitated by a cannonball in battle still roams the area as a Headless Horseman. Irving was by no means the first to invoke the motif of the headless horseman – they have appeared in numerous stories from Gaelic, Scandinavian and German folklore, for example – but Irving’s is the one that has resonated down the ages, right down to Tim Burton’s (somewhat liberty-taking) movie of 1999, Sleepy Hollow.

Ichabod’s encounter with the headless horseman happens after his rejection by Katrina at the van Tassel household and he is returning home, crestfallen, on a borrowed horse, Gunpowder. Passing though a menacing swamp, he sees a cloaked rider and is horrified to see that the rider’s head was not on his shoulders but in his saddle. A frenzied race ensues as Ichabod rides for his life, desperately goading Gunpowder down the Hollow; as they cross a bridge, Ichabod turns back in terror to see the headless rider rear his horse and hurl his severed head directly at him: the missile strikes Ichabod and sends him tumbling headlong into the dust. The following morning, Gunpowder is found chomping at the grass, with the only sign of Ichabod, who is never seen again, being his discarded hat alongside a mysterious shattered pumpkin…

Washington Irving

George Stubbs’ Cheetah And Stag With Two Indians (1765)

If you happen to be in Manchester with a spare hour or two, do call into its art gallery on Mosley Street where you’ll find a host of interesting paintings, not least of which is Cheetah and Stag with Two Indians by George Stubbs. Stubbs was an English artist, born in Liverpool in 1724 and who moved to York in 1744 to pursue his passion for human anatomy, studying under the surgeon Charles Atkinson at York County Hospital. He was also a natural and entirely self-taught artist, and worked as a portrait painter in York for ten more years, but he would become famous later not for painting human sitters but animal ones, particularly horses (of which his best-known, Whistlejacket, is at the National Gallery in London).

Whistlejacket

By 1764, Stubbs had established a reputation for his anatomically accurate animal paintings, and attracted the attention of the royal court, who had commissioned him, the year before, to paint Queen Charlotte’s South African zebra. He was, then, the obvious choice when a certain outgoing Governor General of Madras, Sir George Pigot, arrived back in London with a menagerie of “wild beasts and curiosities” as gifts for King George III, and was looking for an artist to paint a portrait of the most exotic of those gifts, a magnificent cheetah.

Easily tamed and trained, cheetahs had been used as hunting animals by the Mogul Emperors for hundreds of years. In that spirit, the King’s uncle, the Duke of Cumberland, was eager to put the King’s cheetah through its paces and so arranged a demonstration in Windsor Great Park, where George Stubbs was present to capture the occasion on canvas.

A stag was duly placed in an enclosure of the royal paddock while the cheetah was prepared by Pigot’s Indian servants. First, they ‘hoodwinked’ the animal by tying a red blindfold over its face, whilst one of the servants held it by a restraining sash around the hindquarters. A servant then pulled back the hood back to allow the cheetah a first sight of its quarry, whilst the other one gestured towards the stag, and the predator was unleashed. What happened next was not quite what was intended: according to the St James’s Chronicle the stag staunchly defended itself and ended up chasing the cheetah off!

The painting has been praised for its sincere rendering and lack of European condescension: in an age when foreign visitors were pictured at best as colourful exotics, at worst as sinister or ridiculous caricatures, Stubbs endowed the servants with a grace and authenticity equal to the magnificent creature they were caring for.

Postscript Cheetahs are no longer to be found wild in the Indian sub-continent: the last three individuals were reportedly shot in 1947 by the Maharajah of Surguja.

Cheetah and Stag with Two Indians
George Stubbs, self-portrait