The Headless Horseman is a figure of folklore and fantasy who haunts the countryside in a vain and endless search for his missing head. Although certainly not an invention of Washington Irving, the Headless Horseman as a vibrant element of American folklore is undoubtedly rooted in the story told of a decapitated Hessian cavalryman in The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. According to Irving’s version of the tale, the residents of Sleepy Hollow, New York, are haunted by a spectral horseman who lost his head to a cannon ball during the American Revolution. Although it is unclear whether or not the Headless Horseman himself actually takes an active role in the climax of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, it is certain that the terror surrounding the stories of his nocturnal rampages is the key element in bringing the tale to its conclusion. Douglas Moore wrote music for an operetta based on Irving’s story, entitled The Headless Horseman and published in 1937, for which Stephen Vincent Benét penned the libretto.
Although the folklore of the Headless Horseman haunts the pages of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, the real action of the story concerns a love triangle involving a Connecticut Yankee, Ichabod Crane; a local beauty and heiress of sorts, Katrina Van Tassel; and Abraham Van Brunt, popularly known as “Brom Bones,” whom Irving introduces as “the hero of the country round.” This designation is perhaps more than incidental, as The Legend of Sleepy Hollow could be said to be as much about a clash of cultures as about the Headless Horseman, and both aspects of the story have much to teach us about American folklore and changing American sensibilities and identities.
One night at a party at the Van Tassels’, the rivalry between Ichabod Crane and Brom Bones reached its zenith, and in a very real way, the legend of the Headless Horseman literally chased Ichabod out of town forevermore. After the dancing was finished, Ichabod drifted off to the company of the older folks, who were telling stories of adventures in the neighborhood during the Revolution, which they still held in memory, embroidered now with fitting fictions to enhance the facts. Such talk turns to ghost stories, and Irving takes note of the fact that nowadays only well-established communities like those of Dutch New York make fitting homes for ghosts, as elsewhere Americans move around so much that a ghost is hardly in the grave before all who might have known him have moved away. Many terrifying tales were told of the spirits and hauntings of that locality, such as the moans heard at the tree where Major André was captured, and the warning shrieks of the lady in white at Raven Rock, harbinger of winter storms, who died in that valley during a blizzard.
Eventually the storytellers raise the favorite local topic of the Headless Horseman, who haunts the churchyard of Sleepy Hollow, and who is most often encountered where the road below the graveyard hill crossed a stream. A number of tales were recounted, such as that of old Brouwer, who was compelled to admit that ghosts were real after the Hessian rider forced him to go for a gallop and then dumped him in the stream. These stories were topped off by the recent adventures of Brom Bones, as told by the hero himself; Brom challenged the midnight rider to a race for a bowl of punch, which Brom would have won if the Hessian had not vanished “in a flash of fire” at the church bridge. Ichabod later disappears that same night after being chased by what appears to be the Headless Horseman, and he is never seen in Sleepy Hollow again. Brom Bones, on the other hand, who looks “exceeding knowing whenever the story of Ichabod was related, and always burst into a hearty laugh at the mention of the pumpkin,” soon escorts the lovely Katrina to the altar.
That Ichabod loved Katrina’s dowry rather than the girl herself is very clear in the story; furthermore, he was interested in financial gain rather than the farms around him. Most importantly, this scarecrow-like schoolteacher who delights in storytelling but starts at shadows provides a stark contrast to the cream of the local farm boys, the muscular and heroic Brom Bones, who is a pragmatist to the marrow, and who is much more likely to play a practical joke than to believe in the world of the unseen and the undead. Ichabod’s Yankee thrift is also a foil for Irving, who describes the rich farm of Old Baltus Van Tassel through the hungry eyes of a greedy glutton who would ingest its produce whole, much as he swallows uncritically the outrageous and fantastical stories he hears. The farmer himself, we are told, was contented and satisfied, but not overly proud or conceited on account of his farm and its bounty. The rapacious Ichabod is thus at odds with the Dutch farmers around him, and Irving draws a portrait that criticizes the new-style Connecticut Yankee itinerant consumer, while romanticizing the agrarian lifestyle of the Old New York Dutch farmer producers.
In his description of Ichabod’s single-minded desire to sell the farm to take his chances in the western frontier, Irving also raises the specter of American myths of the glories of the West, setting the unseen possibilities of the “go west” philosophy against the self-evident settled plenty of Baltus Van Tassel’s farm. Irving overtly offers a criticism of this philosophy when he notes how few ghosts would have any “acquaintance left to call upon” in their neighborhoods anymore. In his acquisitiveness, as in his appetite for stories of the supernatural, Ichabod clearly privileges the possibilities of the unseen world of his imagination over the practical realities of the physical world around him. Brom Bones is exactly the opposite, and that he is a more suitable mate for Katrina and successor for Baltus than his rival is obvious by the story’s conclusion. The specter of the Headless Horseman is the ghost of the revolutionary past that chases away this vision of the American future.
The precise sources of Irving’s version of the story of the Headless Horseman are not entirely clear, although it has long been supposed to be drawn from German folklore. Furthermore, Irving certainly drew upon a number of uniquely American traditions that give the tale much of its color and power. It is certain that many men lost their lives in the Revolution in a manner similar to that described by Irving, and it is possible that he was referencing one such case, that of Abraham Onderdonk, who was reported to have died by decapitation by a cannonball in Westchester County, New York, in October 1776. Furthermore, the mere mention of Major André evokes a rich vein of American legend and folklore: this British spy—captured and hung nearby—was in league with Benedict Arnold, whose very name means “traitor” in American culture. Most importantly, the term “Hessian” was enough to lend to Irving’s version of an old ghost story the flavor of the demonic: the Hessians were German mercenaries from Hesse with the most bloodthirsty reputation in all of Europe. Hessian soldiers were reputed to slay prisoners without mercy or compunction, and American mothers feared that these German-speaking devils might eat their very children. King George III was widely reviled in the rebellious colonies for employing such cutthroat killers, and it is these “foreign Mercenaries” the Declaration of Independence refers to when it condemns King George for employing such barbarians “to compleat the works of death, desolation and tyranny” he had begun. Indeed, voices as famous as that of John Hancock were raised in protest of the practice, noting the savage reputation of Hessian soldiers. Thus the specter of an evil undead Hessian, ever hunting another head from beyond the grave, could in a sense be said to haunt the very foundation of the American psyche. That the Headless Horseman of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow was said to be Hessian, then, was much more frightening and likely to cause a visceral reaction in audiences of Irving’s time than a modern reader might at first glance suspect. To Americans a generation or two after the Revolution, a Hessian Headless Horseman would have seemed little less than the Devil incarnate.
Ichabod Crane
Ichabod Crane, as thin and gawky as his surname suggests, was the schoolmaster of Sleepy Hollow, New York, strict and stern in the classroom but attentive and ingratiating among the womenfolk of the local farms, who took turns providing him with bed and board. Enraptured by the bounty of the rich farm of Baltus Van Tassel, Ichabod set his sights on the farmer’s lovely daughter, Katrina, determined to win the girl, inherit the farm, sell the estate, and invest all the proceeds in vast tracts of wilderness to the west. One autumn afternoon, Ichabod was invited to a “quilting frolic” at the Van Tassel manse. Ichabod felt sure of Katrina’s love while they danced together, but he left disappointed; the narrator suggests that the schoolmaster might have been playing the fool for the young girl, who might only have used him to make Brom jealous. On the ride home, Ichabod encountered and was chased by a headless rider, who hurled a grisly orb at the schoolteacher just as he reached the church bridge. Ichabod was never seen in that neighborhood again, although his horse was found the next morning. No head was found near the stream, but a shattered pumpkin was discovered near Ichabod’s hat. The narrator suggests that Ichabod fled due to his terror of the ghost and his humiliation at the hands of Katrina. He survived to find another teaching job and studied law as well; his future lay in law and politics. The old farmwives, however, stuck to the story of his supernatural demise, and Katrina married Brom.
C. Fee
C. Fee
See also Irving, Washington; Rip Van Winkle; Scary Stories
Further Reading
Burstein, Andrew. 2007. The Original Knickerbocker: The Life of Washington Irving. New York: Basic Books.
Irving, Washington. “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.” 2004. In The Oxford Companion to American Literature, edited by James David Hart and Phillip Leininger. New York: Oxford University Press.
Irving, Washington. 2009. The Sketch-Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent., edited by Susan Manning Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Jones, Brian Jay. 2008. Washington Irving: An American Original. New York: Arcade.
Headless Horseman—Primary Document
Washington Irving, “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” (1820)
Since Washington Irving created the tale of the Headless Horseman as a piece of folklore circulating within his fictional community of Sleepy Hollow, this ghoulish rider has transcended Sleepy Hollow, taking its place in the actual folklore of America. As Irving’s most famous tale hints, it is unclear whether the Headless Horseman existed beyond the vivid imagination of Ichabod Crane and the other inhabitants of the region. While Crane’s nocturnal encounter is described in the most supernatural terms, the evidence discovered in broad daylight hints at a more rational explanation of Crane’s disappearance. However, the Headless Horseman’s appearance is no longer confined to Sleepy Hollow, becoming a reoccurring feature of campfire tales and other scary stories.
As [Ichabod] approached the stream, his heart began to thump; he summoned up, however, all his resolution, gave his horse half a score of kicks in the ribs, and attempted to dash briskly across the bridge; but instead of starting forward, the perverse old animal made a lateral movement, and ran broadside against the fence. Ichabod, whose fears increased with the delay, jerked the reins on the other side, and kicked lustily with the contrary foot: it was all in vain; his steed started, it is true, but it was only to plunge to the opposite side of the road into a thicket of brambles and alder bushes. The schoolmaster now bestowed both whip and heel upon the starveling ribs of old Gunpowder, who dashed forward, snuffling and snorting, but came to a stand just by the bridge, with a suddenness that had nearly sent his rider sprawling over his head. Just at this moment a plashy tramp by the side of the bridge caught the sensitive ear of Ichabod. In the dark shadow of the grove, on the margin of the brook, he beheld something huge, misshapen and towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathered up in the gloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon the traveller.
The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his head with terror. What was to be done? To turn and fly was now too late; and besides, what chance was there of escaping ghost or goblin, if such it was, which could ride upon the wings of the wind? Summoning up, therefore, a show of courage, he demanded in stammering accents, “Who are you?” He received no reply. He repeated his demand in a still more agitated voice. Still there was no answer. Once more he cudgelled the sides of the inflexible Gunpowder, and, shutting his eyes, broke forth with involuntary fervor into a psalm tune. Just then the shadowy object of alarm put itself in motion, and with a scramble and a bound stood at once in the middle of the road. Though the night was dark and dismal, yet the form of the unknown might now in some degree be ascertained. He appeared to be a horseman of large dimensions, and mounted on a black horse of powerful frame. He made no offer of molestation or sociability, but kept aloof on one side of the road, jogging along on the blind side of old Gunpowder, who had now got over his fright and waywardness.
Ichabod, who had no relish for this strange midnight companion, and bethought himself of the adventure of Brom Bones with the Galloping Hessian, now quickened his steed in hopes of leaving him behind. The stranger, however, quickened his horse to an equal pace. Ichabod pulled up, and fell into a walk, thinking to lag behind,—the other did the same. His heart began to sink within him; he endeavored to resume his psalm tune, but his parched tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, and he could not utter a stave. There was something in the moody and dogged silence of this pertinacious companion that was mysterious and appalling. It was soon fearfully accounted for. On mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of his fellow-traveller in relief against the sky, gigantic in height, and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck on perceiving that he was headless!—but his horror was still more increased on observing that the head, which should have rested on his shoulders, was carried before him on the pommel of his saddle! His terror rose to desperation; he rained a shower of kicks and blows upon Gunpowder, hoping by a sudden movement to give his companion the slip; but the spectre started full jump with him. Away, then, they dashed through thick and thin; stones flying and sparks flashing at every bound. Ichabod’s flimsy garments fluttered in the air, as he stretched his long lank body away over his horse’s head, in the eagerness of his flight.
They had now reached the road which turns off to Sleepy Hollow; but Gunpowder, who seemed possessed with a demon, instead of keeping up it, made an opposite turn, and plunged headlong downhill to the left. This road leads through a sandy hollow shaded by trees for about a quarter of a mile, where it crosses the bridge famous in goblin story; and just beyond swells the green knoll on which stands the whitewashed church.
As yet the panic of the steed had given his unskilful rider an apparent advantage in the chase, but just as he had got half way through the hollow, the girths of the saddle gave way, and he felt it slipping from under him. He seized it by the pommel, and endeavored to hold it firm, but in vain; and had just time to save himself by clasping old Gunpowder round the neck, when the saddle fell to the earth, and he heard it trampled under foot by his pursuer. For a moment the terror of Hans Van Ripper’s wrath passed across his mind,—for it was his Sunday saddle; but this was no time for petty fears; the goblin was hard on his haunches; and (unskilful rider that he was!) he had much ado to maintain his seat; sometimes slipping on one side, sometimes on another, and sometimes jolted on the high ridge of his horse’s backbone, with a violence that he verily feared would cleave him asunder.
An opening in the trees now cheered him with the hopes that the church bridge was at hand. The wavering reflection of a silver star in the bosom of the brook told him that he was not mistaken. He saw the walls of the church dimly glaring under the trees beyond. He recollected the place where Brom Bones’s ghostly competitor had disappeared. “If I can but reach that bridge,” thought Ichabod, “I am safe.” Just then he heard the black steed panting and blowing close behind him; he even fancied that he felt his hot breath. Another convulsive kick in the ribs, and old Gunpowder sprang upon the bridge; he thundered over the resounding planks; he gained the opposite side; and now Ichabod cast a look behind to see if his pursuer should vanish, according to rule, in a flash of fire and brimstone. Just then he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, and in the very act of hurling his head at him. Ichabod endeavored to dodge the horrible missile, but too late. It encountered his cranium with a tremendous crash,—he was tumbled headlong into the dust, and Gunpowder, the black steed, and the goblin rider, passed by like a whirlwind.
Source: Irving, Washington. Selections from Irving’s Sketch-book, edited by Martin Wright Sampson. Cincinnati, OH: The American Book Company, 1907.