Tag Archives: The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

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