Rip Van Winkle - Washington Irving
Have you ever met someone henpecked by his/her spouse? How much henpecking can a person take? There is a story written by Washington Irving about a man whose wife henpecked him to the point that he simply went away for a long adventure.
Once upon a time there was a lazy but well liked Dutch villager by the name of Rip Van Winkle who lived at the foot of the splendid Catskill Mountains located to the west of the Hudson River; to look at the Catskill Mountains was to look at something that was fairy tale like for their shapes and colors constantly change with not only every season change but weather change and hour change of each day. The village that good-natured Rip and his wife lived in was made up of homes built with small yellow bricks that had been brought over from Holland; each home was quaint to look at, except for poor Rip's. I'm afraid his laziness, caused neglected toward his home and farm and thus they began to waste away.
Rip was loved by each villager except for his nagging wife who had to live in a house that was slowly falling in around her; interestingly, Rip was a very caring neighbor and surprisingly, a submissive husband but was constantly "henpecked" by his wife. Rip was easy and mild of spirit and was also loved by the children of the village; he taught the children games, crafted toys for them, and above all else he would fill their minds with exciting adventurous stories. When the villagers saw Rip they always saw their children following or surrounding him; once again though, Rip had a powerful weakness when it came to work.
When it came to fishing though, Rip could sit on the bank of the river in the sun and bask and cast an entire day; he could also walk the woods and hills an entire day with his gun slung over his shoulder hunting for rabbits and gaming birds. If one of his fine neighbors entreated him for his help, Rip would drop everything and plunge his hands in no matter what type of work it was. Rip was excellent at building or repairing stone fences except when it came to his own; he so enjoyed performing small duties for the wives of the village whose husbands refused to perform, but when it came to helping out his own wife well . . .
Rip also had a son, a daughter, and a dog named Wolf; all three were the poorest dressed and poorest looking in the entire village and even worst, all three were wild and simply looked like they belonged to not a soul. Rip had a very easygoing nature about him; he took everything very nonchalantly and would rather be hungry and penniless than have to actually work for a dollar. If it had been up to Rip, he would have spent his entire life relishing in his laziness if it hadn't been for his constantly nagging wife; Rip spent most of his married life outside his home instead of inside it.
As time goes by, Rip spent more and more time away from home and used this time for hunting and fishing; his heart began to develop a bitterness toward his wife whose tongue got sharper and sharper as time also began to go by. Wolf was his only friend and companion during this time spent in the woods and hills.
One fall day, Rip unknowingly climbed to one of the highest sections in the Catskill mountains, you see, he was hunting rabbit; tired, he sat down to catch his breath and began admiring the rich scenery around him. It was getting late though, and it would be dark before Rip reached the village; the thought of facing his wife at such a late hour produced a groan in Rip that even the hills themselves heard. He stood to leave but froze in his tracks after hearing his name called from off in the distance.
He looked for a body that went with the voice but there was none to be seen; Rip shrugged his shoulders and started descending down toward the valley; he froze again for there was the same voice calling his name again! Rip then noticed a peculiar figure bent over with what looked like a burden on its back making its way toward him; he thought it was a villager who needed help. As Rip drew closer to the figure though, he could not believe his eyes, for there standing in front of him was an incredibly short little old figure with a beard dressed in the old traditional clothes of the Dutch: a short coat belted around the waist and wide pants that were gathered around the knees. The burden on the figures back was a barrel of beer.
The figure beckoned to Rip to help with this load; then the two figures began climbing up a dried up mountain stream. As they climbed higher and higher, Rip began hearing another noise that sounded like distant thunder; the noise became louder and louder until it was on top of him. Rip and his short companion came to an opening in the mountain. As they entered this opening, a scene unfolded before Rip's eyes that he would never forget till the day he took his last breath. There in the middle of the opening were a group of figures just like the one beside him playing nine-pins. The figures made not a sound only the sound of the balls hitting their wooden pins could be heard which sounded just like the thunder Rip had heard earlier. The figures ceased their game once they realized there was a stranger in their midst; they stared at Rip Van Winkle with the stare of a statue!
The figure beside him began to empty the contents of the barrel into great cups and gestured to Rip to serve. Rip naturally obeyed and served each one but oh, how scared he was; each figure drank from his cup and returned to the game. Rip began to relax and noticed that the barrel wasn't empty; he looked toward the figures that were immersed in their game and decided to taste of their beer; one taste turned to another and Rip drank himself into a deep sleep. When he awoke the figures were gone as was the barrel; the night had turned into day...
Rip looked around for his gun but only saw the skeleton of one that had rusted beyond recognition whose wooden handle was being eaten at by worms. Wolf was missing also; Rip rose from off the ground slowly and found he was stiff and that his beard was a lot longer than what he had remembered; he started toward the village. As he descended, he came across the dried up mountain stream that the evening before he had walked up but oddly, it was now overflowing with water making its way rapidly toward the valley.
As Rip entered the village he began seeing people he had never seen before; not only did he see strangers he saw they were wearing very strange looking clothes; the most peculiar of all was that the village itself did not look like the village Rip remembered; this one was larger. Rip blamed the strange sights on the contents that he had drunk of last night; Rip headed for home but as he approached it he froze; his house was in ruins, the roof had caved in, every window was broken, the outside doors were hanging off their hinges ready to let go at any second. Rip called out in fear for his wife and children with no response; he returned to the village to see what he had seen before.
Rip began searching frantically for a familiar face but saw none; some men of the village noticed this and inquired of him who he was looking for? Rip answered that he was looking for his neighbors; the men asked, "Well-who are they?-name them." "Where's Nicholas Vedder?" The crowd that had gathered around Rip was silent; one old man spoke up, "Nicholas Vedder! Why, he is dead and gone, these eighteen years!"
Rip was confused, at that moment a woman with her small child entered into the crowd to see Rip; once the child saw Rip, he began to cry. His mother told him to "Hush, Rip," cried she, "hush, you little fool; the old man won't hurt you." "What is your name, my good woman?" asked Rip? "Judith Gardenier." "And your father's name?" "Ah, poor man, Rip Van Winkle was his name, but it's twenty years since he went away from home with his gun, and never has been heard of, since."
Rip took his daughter and grandson in his arms, "I am your father!" All stood in silent wonder, until an old woman came out of the crowd, looked closely at his face for a moment, and finally cried, "Sure enough! It is Rip Van Winkle! It is himself! Welcome home again, old neighbor. Why, where have you been these twenty long years?!"
Rip was henpecked, but he didn't mind because it led him to an adventure that would last for twenty years where he had peace. A short time before Rip awoke, his wife had passed away; after discovering this, Rip took comfort in the fact. So, once again, how much henpecking can a person take?
