But, however the credit is distributed, Jefferson alone made the play as it lives in the memories of those who saw it. It grew by what it fed on, by accretions of rich imagination. Often times, Jefferson was scored for his glorification of the drunkard. He and Boucicault were continually discussing how best to circumvent the disagreeable aspects of _Rip’s_ character. Even Winter and J. Rankin Towse are inclined to frown at the reprobate, especially by the side of Jefferson’s interpretation of _Bob Acres_ or of _Caleb Plummer_. There is no doubt that, in their collaboration, Boucicault and Jefferson had many arguments about “Rip.” Boucicault has left a record of the encounters: “Let us return to 1865,” he wrote. “Jefferson was anxious to appear in London. All his pieces had been played there. The managers would not give him an appearance unless he could offer them a new play. He had a piece called ‘Rip Van Winkle’, but when submitted for their perusal, they rejected it. Still he was so desirous of playing _Rip_ that I took down Washington Irving’s story and read it over. It was hopelessly undramatic. ‘Joe’, I said, ‘this old sot is not a pleasant figure. He lacks romance. I dare say you made a fine sketch of the old beast, but there is no interest in him. He may be picturesque, but he is not dramatic. I would prefer to start him in a play as a young scamp, thoughtless, gay, just such a curly-head, good-humoured fellow as all the village girls would love, and the children and dogs would run after’. Jefferson threw up his hands in despair. It was totally opposed to his artistic preconception. But I insisted, and he reluctantly conceded. Well, I wrote the play as he plays it now. It was not much of a literary production, and it was with some apology that it was handed to him. He read it, and when he met me, I said: ‘It is a poor thing, Joe’. ‘Well’, he replied, ‘it is good enough for me’. It was produced. Three or four weeks afterward he called on me, and his first words were: ‘You were right about making _Rip_ a young man. Now I could not conceive and play him in any other shape’.” When finished, the manuscript was read to Ben Webster, the manager of the Haymarket Theatre, London, and to Charles Reade, the collaborator, with Boucicault, in so many plays. Then the company heard it, after which Jefferson proceeded to study it, literally living and breathing the part. Many are the humourous records of the play as preserved in the Jefferson “Autobiography” and in the three books on Jefferson by Winter Frances Wilson and Euphemia Jefferson.