Rip Van Winkle Owen Original Text

Summary

At the foot of the magical Kazigir Grove Mountains, on the banks of the Hudson River, there is a very old, secluded village inhabited by the descendants of some Dutch colonists. Many years ago, there used to be a farmer in the village named Rip Van Winkle. He was a simple, kind, warm-hearted man, but did not work all day. One day, in order to avoid the scolding of his nagging and shrewish wife, he took his beloved dog to the Kazgir mountains to go hunting. On the hill, he accidentally saw the ancient Captain Hudson and his companions playing the game of Nine Wooden Pillars. Rip takes advantage of their inattention, steals a drink of their fairy wine, and falls soundly asleep. After waking up back to the village, found that the night has undergone amazing changes: the village is larger than before, the population is also more than before; the villagers strange, their clothing style has changed; he himself not only looks old, beard white, and his wife has passed away, his daughter has been married to be a mother; know their own people died, the living people do not know themselves. It turned out that he had slept for 20 whole years. During his sound sleep, the United States had broken away from British colonial rule and become a free and democratic country. For this kind of regime change, he is indifferent to the change of regime, the only good thing is that he has been free from the shackles of marriage, from the "dictatorship of women" under the oppression of freedom.

Selected Works

One fine autumn day, Rip took one of these rambles: without realizing it, he climbed to the top of a very high peak in the Kazigir Mountains. He concentrated on squirrel hunting, his favorite thing; the silence of the mountain repeatedly vibrated with the echoes of his shots. Toward dusk, gasping for breath and feeling weary, he sat down on a green grassy knoll at the top of the cliff. From a gap in the trees he could look down on a whole dense wood that stretched for miles. Looking farther on, he could see the majestic Hudson River, flowing silently and majestically, its mirror-like center sometimes reflecting a purple cloud, sometimes dotted with lonely sails, sluggishly moving forward - a river that was out of sight between the verdant foothills of the mountains.

He looked down on the other side, and saw nothing but a deep, desolate, lonesome, disheveled valley, the bottom of which was filled with the debris that had fallen from the perilous cliffs, and vaguely with a few rays of the returning rays of the setting sun. Rip lay down on the grass and meditated for a while on this scenery; dusk was coming on; the mountains were already casting long blue shadows in the valley; he knew that by the time he got back to the village it would already be dark, and he could not help but sigh y at the thought of going home to his wife's scolding.

He was about to go down the hill, when suddenly he heard a man's voice from afar shouting, "Rip van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!" He looked around, and there was not even a shadow of a person, except for a lone raven sweeping over the hill on its wings. Thinking that this must be a hallucination, he turned afresh to go down the hill, when he heard the voice again echoing through the silent twilight: "Rip van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!" --At the same time the Wolf raised the hairs on his back, gave a low howl, and dodged to his master's side, gazing down into the valley below in terror. At this moment Rip felt a vague fear come over him, and looking sharply in that direction, he saw an odd man, laboriously and slowly making his way up the rocky mountain, with a heavy load on his back, which bent him at the waist. He was surprised to see a man coming in this desolate, uninhabited place, but he thought it was one of his neighbors, who needed his help, and hastened down to meet him.

On approaching, he was still more astonished when he saw that the stranger had a very odd appearance. It was a short, fat old man, with bushy, thick hair, his beard already white, and his clothes were the ancient Dutch attire: a tweed vest on the upper part, a belt girded about his waist, and several pairs of pants on the lower part, the outer one being very broad, adorned with two rows of buttons on each side, and pleated at the knees. He carried on his shoulder a large barrel that seemed to be filled with wine, and made signs to Rip to go over and help him. Rip, though a little frightened and suspicious of this new friend, agreed with him, as usual, with alacrity; and so, carrying the cask on each other's backs, they climbed up a narrow ravine, which was evidently the bed of a dried-up stream. From time to time, as they ascended the hill, Rip heard a long rumbling sound, as of distant thunder, which seemed to come from a deep ravine, or rather a defile, between the cliffs; and their rugged path led right up to it. He paused for a moment, but thinking that it was nothing more than the sound of a thunderstorm, which is common in the mountains, he went forward still. After crossing the ravine they came to the mouth of a cave, which was shaped like a small amphitheater, and around it stood the cliffs, and the trees thereon, with their branches and leaves hanging down from the tops of the cliffs, so that from it all that could be seen was a flash of blue sky and bright evening clouds. All the way, Rip and his companion walked on without a word; and he really did not understand why on earth he should carry a barrel of wine, up such a barren mountain, but he did not ask, for there was something strange and uncanny in the appearance of the stranger, which made him too daunted to approach him.

They had only entered the amphitheater when a new wonder appeared before their eyes. In the center, on a flat piece of ground, a group of oddly described people were playing a nine-pillar play. Their costumes were of a queer foreign fashion; some wore tight white short tops, others vests with long knives in their belts, and most of them had pants as wide as that of the guide. At the same time, their appearance was peculiar: one was bearded, broad-faced, with tiny pig's eyes; another had a face that seemed to be entirely taken up by a nose, and a conical white hat with a tiny red cockade sticking out of it on his head. They wore shapely *** beards. One of them seemed to be the chief. He was a stout old gentleman, with a weather-beaten face, wearing a short, lace-studded, tight-fitting topcoat, a wide belt, a belt-knife, a high hat with a feather on his head, and on his feet a pair of red socks and a pair of high-heeled shoes tied with a knot of roses. This group of men reminded Rip of the figures on an old Flemish painting that hung in the parlor of the country parson, Van Schaick, which the parson had brought with him from Holland when he first emigrated.

What struck Rip as particularly strange was the fact that, although the men were evidently amusing themselves, their faces were extremely grave and mysteriously silent, and it was one of the most disheartening entertainments he had ever seen. Only the sound of the balls broke the silence before him from time to time, and whenever these balls rolled there was a rumbling echo like thunder in the mountains.

As Rip and his companion approached them, they suddenly ceased their ball-playing, and stared at Rip with frozen, stone-like eyes, and faces so queer, strange, and lifeless, that his heart contracted with terror, and his knees trembled uncontrollably. At this moment his companions poured the wine from the casks into several large jugs, and made signs that he should serve them their drinks. Rip, shivering with fear, did as he bade him; and without a word they drained the wine in one gulp, and then went off to play again.

Later, Rip's fear slowly eased. He even dared to sneak a taste of the wine when no one was watching him, and he thought it tasted very slightly of fine Dutch wine. He was a gluttonous friend, and therefore could not help tasting it again at intervals, and the more he tasted it, the more he savored it, and sipped and sipped at the jug, and at last his mind was a little dazed and dizzy, and his head gradually drooped, and he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

When he awoke, he found himself still lying on top of the green mound where he had first seen the old man of the valley. He rubbed his eyes - it was a bright, light morning. Birds were hopping and chattering in the bushes; an eagle was circling in the sky against the fresh breeze from the hills. "Could it be," thought Rip, "that I have slept here all night?" Then he remembered all that had passed before he had slept. The strange man with the pail of wine--that ravine in the mountains--that desolate retreat between the crags--a band of melancholy men playing the nine-pillar game--that jug of wine--that bottle of wine--that bottle of wine--that bottle of wine. -that jug-"Alas! That jug! The damned jug!" Rip thought-"How can I tell when I get home to my Mrs. Van Winkle?"

He looked around for his shotgun, but his clean, well-greased gun was nowhere to be found, only an old musket lying beside him, with a layer of rust encrusting the barrel, the trigger dislodged, and the stock moth-eaten. At this point he began to suspect that the moralistic drunkards he had met last night had played a trick, got him drunk, and then robbed him of his shotgun. "The Wolf was gone, too, but he had probably lost his way in pursuit of a squirrel or a partridge. He whistled a few times and shouted its name, but to no avail, hearing only the echoes of whistles and shouts, and not seeing his dog.

He resolved to go back to the place where he had watched them play the nine-pillar game last night, and, if he met any of their gang, he could ask them for his gun and his dog. As he stood up to go, he found his joints stiff and not as flexible as they used to be. "The beds on the hill are so ill-suited to me," thought Rip, "that if this wanderings should cause me to get rheumatism and lie in bed all day, it would be a good day for me and my Mrs. Van Winkle." Then, with some difficulty, he walked down the valley: he found the ravine in which he and his companion had gone up together yesterday at dusk; but, too strange to be true, that ravine was now a rolling stream, rushing down over a rock, and filling the valley with the sound of gurgling water. Still, he managed to climb up by the stream, laboring through thickets of alder, boxwood, and witch-hazel, and sometimes tripping or entangling himself in the wild grapevines, which wound their sprawls and tendrils from tree to tree, as if they were casting a net in his path.

At last he reached the spot where the ravine between the cliffs led to the amphitheater; but there was no sign of access to the cave. The walled-up northwest rock seemed like an impenetrable wall, and on the top of it a cascade of water, foaming and rushing down, fell into a broad, deep pool, darkened by the shadows of the surrounding woods. Here poor Rip had to stop. He renewed his whistle, and called out for his dog; but the answer was the croaking of a flock of idle crows, which were circling high in the sky around a dead tree hanging upside down on a sunlit cliff. They felt safe because they were so high up, and seemed to be looking down at the poor man and laughing at his wretched condition. What was to be done? The morning was wasting away, and Rip was hungry, for he had had no breakfast. He was distressed at the loss of his dog and his gun, and he was afraid to see his wife, but he could not starve to death in the mountains. He shook his head, brokered the rusty musket, and with a belly full of troubles and cares, turned and walked home.

(Translated by Wan Zi and Yu Ning)

Appreciation

"Rip Van Winkle" is a masterpiece of Owen's short stories, which is included in "Notes on a Sight and Sound" along with another title, "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow". It is a short story full of magical romance.

The novel is based on old German folklore, but the place where the story takes place has been changed from the Rhine to a secluded, ancient village at the foot of the Kazigir Grove Mountains in the Hudson River Valley of the United States. The main character of the novel, Rip Van Winkle, is a simple, kind, gentle, warm-hearted and helpful farmer. He is a bit lazy by nature, and is bent on pursuing a calm, simple and carefree country life, and is not interested in working, earning or spending money. Therefore, wherever he goes, it is difficult for him to escape the nagging and scolding of his wife, Mrs. Van Winkle. In order to escape the "dictatorship of women", Rip has to go hunting in the mountains with his shotgun and dog, because in the deep, grassy valleys there is the peace and quiet that he loves. In the mountains he meets some ancient people dressed in Dutch-style clothing, and he actually falls asleep for 20 years after stealing a drink of their fine Dutch wine. When he woke up, he was confronted with a strange world. In these 20 years, he escaped from reality and responsibility, and became the ancestor of the image of "recluse" in American literature, which profoundly influenced the later American literature. The "recluse" after him included Huckleberry Finn, a boy who floated down the Mississippi River; Babbitt, a middle-class businessman who ran away from home to pursue freedom in Maine; Yank, a "hairy ape" who went to the zoo to communicate with gorillas; and Yank, who dreamed of going to the West to marry a deaf and mute girl in an uninhabited region of the country. Yank, the hairy ape who travels to the zoo to commune with a gorilla, and Holden, a high school student who dreams of traveling to the West to marry a deaf girl.

This selection is the middle section of the novel, which follows Rip as he leaves the real world and meets the Ancient Ones in the Cazgill Mountains. Owen grew up with a love of fantasy, and that is fully reflected here. With rich imagination and bold exaggeration, the author transcends the limitations of time and space, weaving strange plots, bizarre environments and extraordinary characters to create a fantastical imaginary world, false and real, adding a layer of mysticism to the novel. Rip's experience in the deep mountains is very reminiscent of the Chinese Tang Dynasty legend of Wang Qi's journey into the mountains to meet an immortal. Again, he comes to the mountains, meets an immortal, steals the immortal's food, stays overnight, and then turns back to his hometown decades later. But from the point of view of complexity and simplicity, Wang Qi's story is only a few words, while the "Rip Van Winkle" in both Rip's living environment of the scene description, characterization, and Rip's inner activities of the portrayal of the content is richer.

Rip Van Winkle represents the idyllic pastoral style of the old patriarchal rural life. In the author's writing, this life is simple and beautiful, full of poetry. In the first half of the novel, that is, before Rip Van Winkle went to sleep, the author tried his best to describe the beautiful local scenery and the quietness of the village life, even when he wrote about Mrs. Van Winkle's incessant nagging, he also tried to create a kind of "birdsong and the mountains are even more quiet" effect. In such a quiet and peaceful atmosphere, the reader is prone to an illusion: time seems to be eternal and frozen in time. But this illusion is quickly shattered, time is, after all, merciless. By the time Rip wakes up, the leisurely life no longer exists, the pace of life is obviously accelerated, the new social climate embodied in the busy, flustered, acrimonious, irritable, "not at all like the old days as calm and maintain a drowsy tranquility". Not only that, Irving also suggests to the readers the limitations of the bourgeois revolution, which did not bring much change to the life of poor peasants like Rip Van Winkle, through such wonderful details as the flying of the American flag, the change of the portrait on the sign of the inn, and the appearance of the little Winkle: the so-called sacred American flag is nothing more than a strip of cloth with a strange design; the portrait, though changed from King George to The picture, though changed from King George to General Washington, was still the sign of the inn; and little Winkle, though grown to manhood, had inherited his father's manner, "with the same indolent air, and, of course, the same rags on his body." It is Irving's clever satire of reality that history seems to repeat itself when 20 years have passed. Bounded by the part of Rip Van Winkle's journey into the mountains to meet the fairies, the two worlds before Winkle goes to sleep and after he wakes up are in stark contrast. The contrast between the pastoral mood of patriarchal society and capitalist society reveals Irving's longing for the traditional culture of continental Europe and his reservations about the changes of the times.

Irving uses very simple English in Rip Van Winkle, almost exclusively in short sentences. In this selection from Rip Van Winkle's journey into the mountains to meet the fairies, Irving uses simple but beautiful language to give the reader a picture of the Hudson River flowing silently, dotted with white sails in a pulsating afterglow, and of the silent, secluded valleys. These wonderful mountain scenery leaves the suspense: in such a quiet and beautiful environment, Rip will have what strange encounter? Another example is that when Rip wakes up, he "found himself still lying on the green hill where he had first seen the old man in the valley", and he thought to himself: "Alas! That jug! The damned jug!" , "How can I tell when I go home to my Mrs. Van Winkle?" These words are natural and concise, portraying the image of a man who is afraid of his wife, and setting off the fierce Mrs. Van Winkle from the opposite side.

Rip Van Winkle inherits and carries forward the tradition of 18th-century English Romanticism, with its fresh and fluent writing, and its beautiful and moving descriptions of landscapes. Owen used unique artistic techniques and romantic imagination to organically integrate European folklore with American natural scenery and real life, making the novel both legendary and realistic.

(Zhang Qiaohuan)