The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

(Found among the papers of Diedrich Knickerbocker, now deceasedthe late Diedrich Knickerbocker.)

A pleasing land of drowsy head it was,
Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye;
And of brightgay castles in the clouds that pass,
For ever flushing round a summer sky.
CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.

Nestled in one of the spacious coves along the eastern shore of the Hudson lies a small market town, or country port. It is near that broad stretch of the river which the old Dutch sailors called the Tappan Zee. When they crossed it, they always prudently reduced their sails and prayed for the protection of St. Nicholas. Some call the town Greensburgh, but it is more generally, and more properly, known asIn the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indent the eastern shore of the Hudson, at that broad expansion of the river denominated by the ancient Dutch navigators the Tappan Zee, and where they always prudently shortened sail and implored the protection of St. Nicholas when they crossed, there lies a small market town or rural port, which by some is called Greensburgh, but which is more generally and properly known by the name of Tarry Town. We are told that the name was given long ago by the good housewives of the surrounding countryside. Their husbands had a persistent habit of lingering atThis name was given, we are told, in former days, by the good housewives of the adjacent country, from the inveterate propensity of their husbands to linger about the village tavern on market days. Be that as it may, I cannot guarantee the fact. I merely mention it for the sake of being precise and well informed.do not vouch for the fact, but merely advert to it, for the sake of being precise and authentic. Not far from this village, perhaps about two miles, there is a little valley, or rather a hollow among high hills. Itvalley or rather lap of land among high hills, which is one of the quietest places in the whole world. A small brook glides through it, with just murmur enough to lull you to sleepone to repose; and the occasional whistle of a quail or tapping of a woodpecker is almost the only sound that ever breaks in upon the uniform tranquillity.

I remember that, as a young lad, my first adventure in squirrel-shooting took placerecollect that, when a stripling, my first exploit in squirrel-shooting was in a grove of tall walnut-trees that shades one side of the valley. I had wandered into it at noontime, when all nature is especiallypeculiarly quiet, and was startled by the roar of my own gun, as it broke the Sabbath stillness around and was prolonged and reverberated by the angry echoes. If I ever wanted a retreat where I could slip away from the world and its distractions, and dream quietly through the restever I should wish for a retreat whither I might steal from the world and its distractions, and dream quietly away the remnant of a troubled life, I know of none more promising than this little valley.

Because of its deep quiet and the peculiar character of its people, descendants of the first Dutch settlers, this secluded valley has long been called SLEEPY HOLLOW. Throughout the neighbouring countryside, its country lads are called the Sleepy Hollow Boys.From the listless repose of the place, and the peculiar character of its inhabitants, who are descendants from the original Dutch settlers, this sequestered glen has long been known by the name of SLEEPY HOLLOW, and its rustic lads are called the Sleepy Hollow Boys throughout all the neighbouring country. A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to hang over the land, and to fillpervade the very atmosphere. Some say that the place was bewitched by a High German doctor, during the early days of the settlement; others, that an old Indian chief, the prophet or wizard of his tribe, held his powwows there before the country was discovered by Master Hendrick Hudson. One thing is certain: some magical power still rules the place. It holds the minds of these good people under a spell and makes them walk in a continual daydream.Certain it is, the place still continues under the sway of some witching power, that holds a spell over the minds of the good people, causing them to walk in a continual reverie. They believe all kinds of marvellous things. They fall into trances, have visions,are given to all kinds of marvellous beliefs, are subject to trances and visions, and frequently see strange sights, and hear music and voices in the air. The whole neighbourhood abounds with local tales, haunted spots, and twilight superstitions; stars shoot and meteors glare more oftenoftener across the valley than in any other part of the country, and the nightmare, with her whole band of nineninefoldExplanation: This nightmare and her nine companions echo King Lear, act III, scene 4. The text does not say who those companions are., seems to make it the favourite scene of her playful leapsgambols.

One spirit, however, rules over the others in this enchanted region and seems to command all the powers of the air:The dominant spirit, however, that haunts this enchanted region, and seems to be commander-in-chief of all the powers of the air, is the apparition of a figure on horseback, without a head. Some say it is the ghost of a Hessian soldier whose head was carried away by a cannon-ball in some nameless battle during the Revolutionary War. From time to time, country folk see him hurrying throughIt is said by some to be the ghost of a Hessian trooper, whose head had been carried away by a cannon-ball, in some nameless battle during the Revolutionary War, and who is ever and anon seen by the country folk hurrying along in the gloom of night, as if on the wings of the wind. His haunts are not limited to the valley. Sometimes he visits the nearby roads, especially around a church not far away.confined to the valley, but extend at times to the adjacent roads, and especially to the vicinity of a church at no great distance. Indeed, some of the most reliable historians of these parts have carefully gathered and compared the scattered stories about this spectre. They claim that the soldier’s body was buried in the churchyard, and that every night his ghost rides out to the battlefield in search of his head. Sometimes he rushes through the Hollow like a midnight blast of wind. They say this is because he has stayed out too late and is hurryingcertain of the most authentic historians of those parts, who have been careful in collecting and collating the floating facts concerning this spectre, allege that the body of the trooper having been buried in the churchyard, the ghost rides forth to the scene of battle in nightly quest of his head, and that the rushing speed with which he sometimes passes along the Hollow, like a midnight blast, is owing to his being belated, and in a hurry to get back to the churchyard before daybreak.

Such are the main outlines of this superstitious legend. It has provided materialis the general purport of this legendary superstition, which has furnished materials for many a wild story in that region of shadows; and the spectre is known at all the country firesides, by the name of the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow.

Remarkably, the taste for visions I have mentioned is not limited to people born in the valley. Everyone who lives there for a time picks it up without knowing it.It is remarkable that the visionary propensity I have mentioned is not confined to the native inhabitants of the valley, but is unconsciously imbibed by every one who resides there for a time. However wide awake they were before entering that sleepy region, they soon breathe in the magical influence of its air. Their imagination grows; they begin to dream dreamsmay have been before they entered that sleepy region, they are sure, in a little time, to inhale the witching influence of the air, and begin to grow imaginative, to dream dreams, and see apparitions.

I mention this peaceful spot with all possible praise. In little secluded Dutch valleys like these, found here and there in the heart of the great State of New York, the people, their manners and their customs remain unchanged. The great torrent of migration and progress sweeps past them unnoticed, while constantly changing other parts of this restless country.laud, for it is in such little retired Dutch valleys, found here and there embosomed in the great State of New York, that population, manners, and customs remain fixed, while the great torrent of migration and improvement, which is making such incessant changes in other parts of this restless country, sweeps by them unobserved. They are like those little nooks of still water, which border a rapid stream, where we may see the straw and bubble riding quietly at anchor, or slowly revolving in their miniature harbourmimic harbor, undisturbed by the rush of the passing current. Many years have passed since I walked through the drowsy shades of Sleepy Hollow. Yet I wonder whether I wouldThough many years have elapsed since I trod the drowsy shades of Sleepy Hollow, yet I question whether I should not still find the same trees and the same families vegetating in its sheltered bosom.

In this out-of-the-way corner of nature lived a worthy fellow named Ichabod Crane. This was in a remote period of American history—that is to say, about thirty years ago. He stayed, or as he put it, “tarried,” in Sleepy Hollow to teach the children of the neighbourhood.by-place of nature there abode, in a remote period of American history, that is to say, some thirty years since, a worthy wight of the name of Ichabod Crane, who sojourned, or, as he expressed it, “tarried,” in Sleepy Hollow, for the purpose of instructing the children of the vicinity. He was a native of Connecticut, a State which supplies the Union with pioneers for the mind as well as for the forest, and sends forth yearly its legions of frontier woodsmen and country schoolmasters. The name of Crane rather suited his appearance.cognomen of Crane was not inapplicable to his person. He was tall, but exceedingly thin, with narrow shoulders and long arms and legs. His hands dangled a mile out of his sleeves, and his feet might have served for shovels. His whole frame hung looselylank, with narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet that might have served for shovels, and his whole frame most loosely hung together. His head was small, and flat at top, with huge ears, large green glassy eyes, and a long nose like a snipe’s beaksnipe nose, so that it looked like a weathercock perched upon his spindle-thinspindle neck to tell which way the wind blew. To see him striding along the profile of a hill on a windy day, with his clothes bagging and fluttering about him, one might have mistaken him for the genius of famine descending upon the earth, or some scarecrow that had run awayeloped from a cornfield.

His school-house was a low building with one large room, roughly built of logs. The windows were partly glazed and partly patched with pages fromof one large room, rudely constructed of logs; the windows partly glazed, and partly patched with leaves of old copy-books. Outside school hours it was most ingeniously secured with a flexible twig twisted through the door handle and stakes placed against the window shutters. A thief could get in with perfect ease but would find it rather difficult to get out. The architect, Yost Van Houten, had most probably borrowed this idea from the workings of an eel-trap.It was most ingeniously secured at vacant hours, by a withe twisted in the handle of the door, and stakes set against the window shutters; so that though a thief might get in with perfect ease, he would find some embarrassment in getting out,—an idea most probably borrowed by the architect, Yost Van Houten, from the mystery of an eel-pot. The school-house stood in a rather lonely but pleasant situation, just at the foot of a woody hill, with a brook running close by, and a formidable birch-tree growing at one end of it. On a drowsy summer’s day, you could hear the low murmur of his pupils’ voices as they studied their lessons, like the hum of a bee-hive. Now and then it was interrupted by the master’s commanding voice, threatening or giving orders. Sometimes it was interrupted by the appalling sound of his birch rod, as he urged some slow dawdlerFrom hence the low murmur of his pupils’ voices, conning over their lessons, might be heard in a drowsy summer’s day, like the hum of a bee-hive; interrupted now and then by the authoritative voice of the master, in the tone of menace or command, or, peradventure, by the appalling sound of the birch, as he urged some tardy loiterer along the flowery path of knowledge. To tell the truth, he was a conscientious man and always keptTruth to say, he was a conscientious man, and ever bore in mind the golden maxim, “Spare the rod and spoil the child.” Ichabod Crane’s scholars certainly were not spoiled.

I would not want you to imagine, however, that he was one of those cruel rulers of the school who delight in their subjects’ pain. On the contrary, he handed out justice with judgement rather than severity. He took the burden off the backs of the weak and laidhave it imagined, however, that he was one of those cruel potentates of the school who joy in the smart of their subjects; on the contrary, he administered justice with discrimination rather than severity; taking the burden off the backs of the weak, and laying it on those of the strong. A weak, skinny lad who winced at the slightest wave of the rod was indulgently spared. But the claims of justice were satisfied by giving a double portion of blows to some tough, stubborn little Dutch urchin with broad coat-tails, who sulked and bristled and grew obstinate and sullen under the birch rod.Your mere puny stripling, that winced at the least flourish of the rod, was passed by with indulgence; but the claims of justice were satisfied by inflicting a double portion on some little tough wrong-headed, broad-skirted Dutch urchin, who sulked and swelled and grew dogged and sullen beneath the birch. All this he called “doing his duty by their parents;” and he never punished a boy without assuring him—such a comfort to the smarting urchin!—that “he would remember it and thank him for it as long as he lived.”inflicted a chastisement without following it by the assurance, so consolatory to the smarting urchin, that “he would remember it and thank him for it the longest day he had to live.”

When school hours were over, he even became the companion and playmate of the bigger boys. On holiday afternoons he would escort some of the smaller ones home. These happened to have pretty sisters, or mothers who were good housewives, noted for the comforts of their cupboards.was even the companion and playmate of the larger boys; and on holiday afternoons would convoy some of the smaller ones home, who happened to have pretty sisters, or good housewives for mothers, noted for the comforts of the cupboard. Indeed, it was in his interestbehoved him to keep on good terms with his pupils. His income from the school was small and would scarcely have supplied his daily bread. He was a huge eater and, though thin, had an anaconda’s powers of expansion. To help him get by, the farmers whose children he taught gave him food and lodging in their houses, as was the country custom in those parts.The revenue arising from his school was small, and would have been scarcely sufficient to furnish him with daily bread, for he was a huge feeder, and, though lank, had the dilating powers of an anaconda; but to help out his maintenance, he was, according to country custom in those parts, boarded and lodged at the houses of the farmers whose children he instructed. He lived with each family for a week in turn, going round the neighbourhood with all his worldly possessionsWith these he lived successively a week at a time, thus going the rounds of the neighbourhood, with all his worldly effects tied up in a cotton handkerchief.

His country patrons tended to consider the cost of schooling a painful burden, and schoolmasters mere drones. To avoid weighing too heavily on their purses, he had various ways of makingThat all this might not be too onerous on the purses of his rustic patrons, who are apt to consider the costs of schooling a grievous burden, and schoolmasters as mere drones, he had various ways of rendering himself both useful and agreeable. He assisted the farmers occasionally in the lighter labours of their farms, helped to make hay, mended the fences, took the horses to water, drove the cows from pasture, and cut wood for the winter fire. He laid aside, too, all the commanding dignity and absolute powerdominant dignity and absolute sway with which he lorded it in his little empire, the school, and became wonderfully gentle and ingratiating. He found favour in the eyes of the mothers by fussing overpetting the children, particularly the youngest; and like the lion bold, which oncewhilom so magnanimously the lamb did hold, he would sit with a child on one knee, and rock a cradle with his foot for whole hours together.

Alongside his other occupationsIn addition to his other vocations, he was the singing-master of the neighbourhood, and picked up many bright shillings by teaching the young folks to sing psalmsinstructing the young folks in psalmody. On Sundays, he was very proud to take his place at the front of the church gallery with a band of chosen singers. In his own mind, he easily outshoneIt was a matter of no little vanity to him on Sundays, to take his station in front of the church gallery, with a band of chosen singers; where, in his own mind, he completely carried away the palm from the parson. One thing is certain: his voice rang out far above all the rest of the congregation. Peculiar wavering notes can still be heard in that church on a still Sunday morning—even half a mile away, right across the mill-pond. They are said to be the rightful descendants of Ichabod Crane’s nose.Certain it is, his voice resounded far above all the rest of the congregation; and there are peculiar quavers still to be heard in that church, and which may even be heard half a mile off, quite to the opposite side of the mill-pond, on a still Sunday morning, which are said to be legitimately descended from the nose of Ichabod Crane. Thus, by various little expedients, in that ingenious way commonly called “by hook and by crook,” the worthy schoolmaster got by tolerably well. Everyone who understood nothing of the effort of mental work thought he had a wonderfully easy life.divers little makeshifts, in that ingenious way which is commonly denominated “by hook and by crook,” the worthy pedagogue got on tolerably enough, and was thought, by all who understood nothing of the labour of headwork, to have a wonderfully easy life of it.

The schoolmaster is generally a man of some importance among the women of a rural neighbourhood. They consider him a sort of idle gentleman, with far better taste and accomplishments than the rough young countrymen. Indeed, only the parson surpasses him in learning.in the female circle of a rural neighbourhood; being considered a kind of idle, gentlemanlike personage, of vastly superior taste and accomplishments to the rough country swains, and, indeed, inferior in learning only to the parson. His arrival may therefore cause a little stir at a farmhouse tea-table. An extra dish of cakes or sweets appears, or perhaps a silver teapot is brought out for show.appearance, therefore, is apt to occasion some little stir at the tea-table of a farm-house, and the addition of a supernumerary dish of cakes or sweetmeats, or, peradventure, the parade of a silver teapot. Our man of letters, therefore, was especially happy among the smiles of all the young countrywomenpeculiarly happy in the smiles of all the country damsels. How he would shinefigure among them in the churchyard, between services on Sundays; gathering grapes for them from the wild vines that overrun the surrounding trees; reciting for their amusement all the epitaphs on the tombstones; or sauntering, with a whole crowdbevy of them, along the banks of the nearbyadjacent mill-pond; while the more bashful country bumpkins hung sheepishly back, envying his superior elegance and social graceaddress.

Because he moved from place to place, he was also a kind of travelling newspaper. He carried all the local gossip from house to house, so his arrival was always greeted with pleasure.From his half-itinerant life, also, he was a kind of travelling gazette, carrying the whole budget of local gossip from house to house, so that his appearance was always greeted with satisfaction. The women also regarded him as a man of great learning. He had read several books right through and knew Cotton Mather’s “History of New England Witchcraft” by heart. In this, by the way, he believed with all his strength.He was, moreover, esteemed by the women as a man of great erudition, for he had read several books quite through, and was a perfect master of Cotton Mather’s “History of New England Witchcraft,” in which, by the way, he most firmly and potently believed.

He was, in fact, an odd mixture of petty shrewdness and simple gullibilitysmall shrewdness and simple credulity. His appetite for the marvellous, and his powers of digesting it, were equally extraordinary; and both had been increased by livinghis residence in this spellbound region. No tale was too outrageous or monstrous for his vast appetite.gross or monstrous for his capacious swallow. He often delighted in stretching out on the rich bed of clover beside the little brook that whimpered past his school-house, after dismissing his pupils in the afternoon. There he studied old Mather’s dreadful tales until the gathering duskIt was often his delight, after his school was dismissed in the afternoon, to stretch himself on the rich bed of clover bordering the little brook that whimpered by his school-house, and there con over old Mather’s direful tales, until the gathering dusk of the evening made the printed page a mere mist before his eyes. Then he made his way past swamp and stream and fearsome woodland to the farmhouse where he was staying. At that witching hour, every sound of nature stirred his excited imagination—Then, as he wended his way by swamp and stream and awful woodland, to the farm-house where he happened to be quartered, every sound of nature, at that witching hour, fluttered his excited imagination,—the moan of the whippoorwill from the hillside, the ominous cry of the tree toad, that herald of aboding cry of the tree toad, that harbinger of storm, the dreary hooting of the screech owl, or the sudden rustling in the thicket of birds frightened from their roost. The fireflies sparkled most vividly in the darkest places. They too sometimes startled him when an unusually bright one flashed across his path. And if, by chance, a huge blockhead of a beetle blundered into him in flight, the poor fellow was ready to give up the ghost: he thought a witch had marked him.fireflies, too, which sparkled most vividly in the darkest places, now and then startled him, as one of uncommon brightness would stream across his path; and if, by chance, a huge blockhead of a beetle came winging his blundering flight against him, the poor varlet was ready to give up the ghost, with the idea that he was struck with a witch’s token. His only refuge at such times was to sing psalm tunes, either to drown his thoughts or drive away evil spirits. The good people of Sleepy Hollow, sitting by their doors in the evening, were often filled with awe when they heardresource on such occasions, either to drown thought or drive away evil spirits, was to sing psalm tunes and the good people of Sleepy Hollow, as they sat by their doors of an evening, were often filled with awe at hearing his nasal melody, “in linked sweetness long drawn out,” floating from the distant hill, or along the dusky road.

Another source of fearful pleasure was to spend long winter evenings with the old Dutch wives. They sat spinning by the fire, with a row of apples roasting and spluttering along the hearth, while he listenedof his sources of fearful pleasure was to pass long winter evenings with the old Dutch wives, as they sat spinning by the fire, with a row of apples roasting and spluttering along the hearth, and listen to their marvellous tales of ghosts and goblins, and haunted fields, and haunted brooks, and haunted bridges, and haunted houses, and particularly of the headless horseman, or Galloping Hessian of the Hollow, as they sometimes called him. He delighted them just as much with his anecdotes of witchcraft, dreadful omens, and threatening sights and sounds in the air, so common in the early days of Connecticut. He frightened them terribly with his speculations about comets and shooting stars—and with the alarming fact that the world really did turn round, and that half the time they were upside down!would delight them equally by his anecdotes of witchcraft, and of the direful omens and portentous sights and sounds in the air, which prevailed in the earlier times of Connecticut; and would frighten them wofully with speculations upon comets and shooting stars; and with the alarming fact that the world did absolutely turn round, and that they were half the time topsy-turvy!

There was pleasure in all this as he snuggled in the chimney corner of a room glowing red from the crackling wood fire. No spectre, of course, dared to show his face there. But he paid dearly for that pleasure with the terrors of his later walk home.But if there was a pleasure in all this, while snugly cuddling in the chimney corner of a chamber that was all of a ruddy glow from the crackling wood fire, and where, of course, no spectre dared to show his face, it was dearly purchased by the terrors of his subsequent walk homewards. What fearful shapes and shadows crowded his path, amidbeset his path, amidst the dim and ghastly glare of a snowy night! How wistfully he watchedWith what wistful look did he eye every trembling ray of light streaming across the emptywaste fields from some distant window! How often was he appalled by some shrub covered with snow, which, like a sheeted spectre, blockedbeset his very path! How often did he shrink with curdling awe at the sound of his own steps on the frosty crust beneath his feet; and dread to look over his shoulder, for fear of seeing some strangelest he should behold some uncouth being tramping close behind him! And how often was he thrown into complete dismay by some rushing blast, howling among the trees, thinking it was the Galloping Hessian on one of his nightly ridesin the idea that it was the Galloping Hessian on one of his nightly scourings!

All these, however, were mere terrors of the night, phantoms of the mind that walk in darkness. He had seen many spectres in his time and, on his lonely wanderings, had more than once been troubled by Satan in various shapes. Yet daylight put an end to all these evils. He would have lived pleasantly, despite the Devil and all his works, had his path not been crossed by a being who causes mortal man more confusion than ghosts, goblins, and the whole race of witches put together—and that was adarkness; and though he had seen many spectres in his time, and been more than once beset by Satan in divers shapes, in his lonely perambulations, yet daylight put an end to all these evils; and he would have passed a pleasant life of it, in despite of the Devil and all his works, if his path had not been crossed by a being that causes more perplexity to mortal man than ghosts, goblins, and the whole race of witches put together, and that was—a woman.