"Memoirs of a Pine Tree" by Henry Livingston, 1792 - fictional account of Europeans coming to NY

I arose from the cone of my parent pine on the 23d day of May, 1452, and found myself on the island Manhaddan, which is laved on one side by the majestic Hudson, and on the other by the rapid stream of the Haspedoc: before it lay an extensive bay, variegated with islands, and bounded by a coast waving in verdure, and gently undulated, excepting where the irresistible Hudson had forced itself a passage, through which old ocean gleamed.

Here, nature alone gave her law. The hills were clothed with loftiest oaks, and the vales were embrowned with thickeets, from which even the fearless panther turned aside. Whales gambol'd in my sight, and the playful porpoise lashed the pebbles.

Men too were here; but they seemed to be the sons of the soil, for their manners and their habits perfectly coincided with every thing around them. They were not numerous, for there was not subsistence for a multitude. They were seldom engaged in wars, for there were few incentives. They were not avaricious, for there was no fictitious want.

Constant exercises, not labour, kept them healthy: and their understandings, replete with ideas original and all their own, were strong and energetic.

Their religion must have been simple, and unclogged with rites or ceremonies; for from my loftiest leaf I never saw temple, altar, or sacrifice.

I would not, however, insinuate, that because these people were savage they were free from vice. Revenge appeared in its most odious forms: and I have witnessed scenes of domestic retaliation, which I beheld with horror, and which three hundred years have not worn from my mind. The exposing infirm infants, and leaving their decrepid parents to famish in the solitary hut, were outrages against nature, which the plea of necessity could by no means palliate.

I have so long and frequently seen the enormities of uncivilization, and the sensualities of refinement -- the errors of pagans, and the vices of christians -- the former, coming short of that law within them, a radiance from heaven, of which all men partake -- and the latter, spurning the institutions of the most excellent religion of which any record remains: -- that upon the whole, I believe the scale of perfection waves pretty even between them.

After I had risen to some magnitude, my branches became the shelter of many successive habitations: and to this day, whenever a forlorn remnant of the once renowned Mohecon tribe wanders in my neighborhood, he looks up to me with the same kind of veneration a form christian gazed upon a relic, or a mussulman on the city which gave birth to his prophet.

When I reflect upon the scenes I witnessed between two and three centuries ago, and those I behold at this time, I can scarcely credit my own identity, or that nature itself is not entirely changed. Formerly, not an hour elapsed, but the moose, the elk, the caribou, or the deer, stalked in my view, or thundered through the forest, pursued by the wooleneg, the panther, or the wolf: and I once, when very young, saw that terror of ancient, and wonder of modern time, the monstrous mammoth. His height was two score feet, and his whole form indicated strength and ferocity. He ravaged midway the tallest elms, or tasted their topmost foliage at his pleasure. When he thirsted for blood, which happened periodically, neither the buffaloe, the moose, or the tyger could escape; and not infrequently, the screaming tenants of a whole village completed the repast. The individual I saw, perished, by plunging into the river to attack a whale that arose near the shore.

The last important conflict of the natives happened about one hundred and thirty years ago, on the very spot where the city of New York now uplifts its elegant domes. The Mohecons, who covered the whole southern part of the country, had long felt the effects of the prowess of the Mohawks, and seldom retired with laurels. On this occasion, uncommon preparations were made by the Mohawks to attack, and by the Mohecons to resist. The latter began to skirmish on the banks of the Croton, and continued a retrograde opposition, till they crossed the current which forms the island of Manhaddan. Here the conflict became ferocious; and many warriors fell by the missive arrow, or flinty tomahawk: but the ardor and impetuosity of the northern bands bore down every barrier, and this important pass was carried. The poor discomfited Mohecons fled in terror to the extreme part of the island, with their enemies and destruction close behind them. Despair now assumed the appearance of intrepidity, and once more was the work of carnage resumed: but the evil genius of the youth prevailed, and a grave was all that remained of the best and bravest train the Mohecons ever armed for the field.

It was on the 14th day of August, 1658, that every attention was arrested by an object new as it was wonderful. A monster, greater than the largest whale, with enormous wings, whiter than snow, and breathing at intervals fire and smoke, appeared moving on the ocean. It approached by a gentle motion, and was thought to be the genius of the fen. It still came forward, till very near the banks I shaded, when it suddenly flopped and closed its stupendous pinions. It now was observed to be crowded with people, and to be neither a spirit nor an animal.

The strangers hurried on shore, and taking possession of the western part of the island, covered it with houses and defences. They supplied the unsuspecting natives with a number of superfluities, and which they falsely called necessities; but at the same time introduced a train of inervating luxuries before unknown, and a poison more fatal than the marshy sumach, or the crimson tendrils of the baleful moloquindos: it exterminated reason, introduced disease, and ended in miserable expiration.

These first adventurers were succeeded by others, and all multiplied rapidly -- the aboriginals receded -- till at length the sons of Europe covered the face of this western world with a splendor and magnificence, not yet proved to be more intrinsically beautiful than the virgin apparatus of nature, or more conducive to the real felicity of man.

New-York Magazine; or, Literary Repository, Vol. III No. III; Mar 1792; pp.177-179; by R

Over the last year I had to reread the newspaper archives and discovered new Livingston poems I hadn’t earlier found. I especially like this one. Doesn’t include the descriptive layout preceding. He had a lot of daughters.

KITTY! take this painted fan,
Of it make the best you can.
When it rises, full display’d,
To supply the cooling shade,
Read these maxims, there exprest:
“Shade for man is sometimes best!
“Life would yield but small delight,
“Were the scene forever bright.
When the cheering breeze it sends,
Think on whom your breath depends!
Think, that bliss and life would fail,
But for providence’s gale!
If, to mock the starer’s eyes,
And conceal a blush, it rise,
Thus reflect behind the scene,
“Will my actions need a screen,
“When display’d to every eye?
“Or will heav’n a screen supply?
In that aged face you’ll see
What ere long your own may be:
Learn from ev’ry wrinkle there,
Time’s a foe to all that’s fair.
By those spectacles you’ll read
What your orbs may one day need.
From that crutch, this hint pursue,
“I may need supporting too.”
Turn it then to Virtue’s side,
View her form (but stretch it wide)
Virtue, if she’s painted right,
Best appears when most in sight.
Rich her robe! and this implies,
Wealth is sometimes Virtue’s prize.
All with curious foilage wrought,
Hence, her industry be taught;
Loosely flowing to express
Negligence of mode and dress;
Yet tho’ loosely flows the vest,
Clasp’d with care, a-cross her breast!
Kitty wants not to be told,
Virtue’s free but never bold.
Think that placid smile reveals
Joys which virtue only feels;
Think that easy, open air
Speaks the unaffected fair.
See! she drops her alms inclin’d;
This denotes her humble mind;
Upward that she turns her eye,
Hints her portion in the sky.
Shew, by folding the machine,
Virtue may exist unseen.

And this newly discovered one is part of our test set to determine if it’s Henry’s, but the likelihood seems very high. 74.914 percent of the words are favored by Henry; 25.086 are favored by the non-Henry set. 70.130 percent of the phoneme pairs are favored by Henry; 29.870 percent favored by the non-Henry set. 100 percent!! of the near and simple rhymes occur in Henry poems; 50 percent of the near and simple rhymes occur in non-Henry poems. That makes it Henry to me! It’s another carrier address that has an awakened person but it’s a nightmare, not a dream. A slightly edited version of the same scenario shows up in another Carrier Address. Showing this to Mac had me high as a kite. Northern Whig, 1 Jan 1812.

GOOD Morning dear patrons — I’ve come do you see,
With bowing and singing to levy a fee,
I’ll give you good verse — and believe me sincere,
When I wish you long life — and a happy New-Year.
News-Boys just like Lawyers, will promise you fair,
They’ll give for your money, their Lingo so rare —
And I, (lawyer like) though the best of the throng,
“Full costs” mean to “charge” for my excellent song.
Three days had I labour’d — and in verbage sublime,
I’d scribbed nine sheets — but the Devil a rhyme
Would appear in the whole — so all in a huff,
I sent to the flames a whole volume of stuff,
As smooth, at the least, as that lullaby trash,
Which Osander has publish’d — “to compass the cash.”
Having burnt myself out — last night much oppress’d,
I went to my garret and soon was at rest;
Not thinking, at all, that Hobgoblins or Elves
‘Bout poor little News-Boys would trouble themselves;
Or dreaming that fate had a vision design’d
To enliven my muse and enlighten my mind.
The clock sounded twelve — And awaked by the chime,
I raised up my head — and beheld FATHER TIME
Approaching my bed through the dusk of the night;
In one hand his scythe — in the other a SPRIGHT!!!
Whom leading right to me — He spoke with a leer:
“My Lads be you friends — this is little NEW-YEAR!
“And this is YOUNG WHIG!! Now walk hand in hand
“Stick close to each other — in unity stand —
“And then, though from Clermont again shall appear,
“A Juror like Capron, you’ve nothing to fear:
“For when he beholds this young Spright at your side,
“Like Peter the honest from court you shall glide —
“Your pocket unpick’d — nor two hundred expose,
“To purchase some salve for an editor’s nose —
“And then, though brave Matty his bristles should rear,
“And the honest old Sheriff in rage should appear —
“Though all the fell tribe who compose the wise club
“Where Dayton presides and holds forth to his mob,
“Should like savages yell - yet feel no alarm,
“This honest young spright will protect you from harm.
“These Gentry all worship little NEW-YEAR’S gold wand
“And its sight will unnerve every Democrats hand;
“And thus LITTLE WHIG it shall no more be said
“That you print sacred truth at the risk of your head.”
He ended — And spreading his pinions for flight,
Left little NEW-YEAR and MYSELF for the night.
And now raking open the embers, the light
A Goblin most horrible shew’d to my sight,
In stature a Dwarf — but in visage so fell
He seem’d a dark spirit — just issued from Hell.
He glittered in diamonds — of gold was his wand,
And a purse of “Napoleons” was held in each hand.
He ey’d me askant — and threw open his robe,
Displaying embroider’d a Map of the Globe.
I saw there old Germany struck from her seat,
And Russia bow’d down at an Usurper’s feet,
And places where states in old Europe had stood,
We’re buried, deep buried, in oceans of blood:
And o’er them I read on a label enrolled,
“The CONQUESTS of France and her Tyrant behold.” —
I look’d to the south — a new scene struck my eye —
A kingdom “in armour” — And “freedom” the cry —
From her snow cover’d Mountains, her brave sons again,
As, erst with Pelagius, rush down to the plain;
And there fixed as fate — with dread purpose they stand,
To die, or deliver, their dear native land.
And there I beheld from the Isles of the west,
A band all heroic — at Freedom’s behest
Rush forth to the battle — with banners unfurl’d,
And snatch from the Tyrant a tottering world —
“And O” I exclaimed “if the councils above,
“Are guided by Justice, sweet Mercy and Love,
“Sure, sure, here the Tyrants proud arm shall be stay’d,
“His armies shall fly, and his laurels shall fade;
“The blood of such Patriots shall not flow in vain,
“And the world be preserved by the Heroes of Spain!!”
As I spoke, the fell Spright, with a grin further drew
His mantle aside — and the West met my view —
There drawn at full length, young Columbia I spied,
But ah! how disordered, how humbled her pride —
She seemed like a young man, in vigour and bloom,
By the nostrums of quackery swept to the tomb —
She seem’d a young Giant, unnerved by strong wine,
At her length all extended, inactive, supine —
Her Ports and her Cities how desolate all,
MEMENTOS alike of her rise and her fall.
Indignant I turn’d from this view, to my guest
And “THE LEGION OF HONOR,” appear’d on his breast.
Hah! a Frenchman! I cried — and not the New-Year!
And I shrunk from the wretch with disgust and with fear —
His eyes flashing vengeance — with shrugs and with sneers
He shrieked forth his “foutres” his “pests” and “Monsieurs.”
Of Orders and Edicts his gibberish ran
Of Rambouillet, and Berlin and also Milan —
He pointed to Canada — chattered of Blood!
And shew’d on the map where free Switzerland stood!
He talk’d of embargos and other such stuff,
And “foutred” them all to the shades with a puff.
Our “restrictions” and threat’nings, he sent to “Diable,”
And Damn’d all our Gun-Boats — as tubs for the rabble.
Of the “love of Napoleon” he gabbled an hour,
Of his kindness, and justice, his friendship and power —
Of La Franchise, La Vengeance and other such trash —
And closed by an offer to lend me some cash.
I shrunk from his offer — I spit in his face —
And told him, indignant, his conduct was base —
That though a poor NEWS-BOY, I scorned to do evil,
And him and his master consign’d to the Devil.
Enrag’d, the foul dwarf, wildly flourish’d his wand —
And nine empty purses appear’d in each hand —
Then full in my view, with triumph he rear’d,
On each, at full length, an inscription appear’d.
On the first, “Baptiste Irvine,” was written alone;
The second, “To Dunn,” shew’d its Contents had gone —
On the rest, lofty names, in plain characters glare,
Of statesmen, who rule, and who clamour for war:
The fire flash’d new light — and as nearer I drew;
A purse of small size — was develop’d to view —
It seem’d that some Cents had once lodged therein,
And shillings and sixpences there had been seen,
And on it was written, in characters meet,
“For Captain Stargazer — the tool of De Witt.”
WIth a scowl he, exclaimed — “You see my young friend,
“We ne’er want borrowers, while we’ve money to lend,
“And mark me, YOUNG WHIG — ere long you shall rue,
“This saucy refusal to join the French crew.”
Indignant I view’d him and swore to his head,
I’d publish this day ev’ry word he had said:
Nor would I one word from his gib’rish retrench;
But the shy little Devil spoke wholly in French.
At which growing angry — I bade him Adieu,
And wrote just at day light, this VISION for you.

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