“We approached the mansion by a broad street running up the river bank east of the town. This street seems suspended between heaven and earth, as the whole premises for two miles, all in sight, appears to be elevated above the horizon, and none above the rest. We entered the courtyard, fronting the house, by a stile; and the first thing we met was a large scaffold overspread with cotton; as it was in the seed, there must have been many thousand pounds. Being damp from dew, and often rain, it must be dried in this manner. The mansion was large, built with logs, shingled roof, and may have been built twenty-five or thirty years since. I recoiled at the sight of a place once the habitation of such a monster as Melton was. Some of our party went in: I did not. General Jackson’s overseer, who joined us here, said he lived in the lower story, the upper being filled with cotton. This scaffold was about four feet from the ground. From this we crossed another fence, and found ourselves in a cotton field of about one hundred acres, white with cotton and alive with negroes. The center of this field is said to be the rallying point of viewing the scenery, as it doubtless is. You can see up to Brown’s Ferry, eight miles distant, with the naked eye, and the same distance down.
“The term ‘beauty’ is applied to anything which excites pleasant feelings. Beauty is said to be a uniformity amidst variety, a proportion of parts adapted to a whole, fitness of things to an end, quantity and simplicity. All this is realized on Melton’s Bluff. Here is a noble river which combines in itself all you can conceive of grandeur and utility, adorned with islands, spangled with boats, and enlivened with wild flowers. Lift your eye from the river, and lo! magnificent fields, white as snow, orchards, farms and houses all in view, without moving out of the spot. You may thus form some idea of this far-famed bluff. Here the green islands look like floating meadows. Here the boatman wields his mossy oar and guides his freighted boat along. Here the wild fowl arrayed in glossy plumes, wantons as she lists. Here the distant billows breaking o’er the shoals, echo back in murmuring sounds, and mingling sweetly with the music of the boatman’s viol, swells upon the ear and softly dies away upon the breeze. To crown the whole, here the majestic swan, robed in dazzling white, moves in all her graceful attitudes. These are beauties which may be felt but cannot be described. This combination of objects, each beautiful in itself, and so materially useful, constitutes the beauty of Melton’s Bluff. All the trade of East Tennessee pass by the Bluff and halt there to take in their pilots.”
The Indian Mound on the banks of the Tennessee River, at Florence, Ala.
Can description be more beautiful? Anne Royal, whoever she was, could write classic English for her day and generation.
From Huntsville, December 25, 1817, she wrote: “The face of this country has changed five times in my tour. From Big Sandy river (the boundary of Kentucky and Virginia) to Mount Sterling, the soil is black, firm, uneven and covered with heavy timber, beech and oak principally. From Mt. Sterling to Danville, called first-rate land, it is generally black as your hat and the growth is locust, cherry and walnut. They continue to the Red river, in Tennessee, one hundred miles. They are not a dead or prairie-like level, but rather waving.
“Next to them comes on the lofty timbered black, rich soil and large grape vines and continues to Nashville. Upon leaving Nashville the red cedar begins and though the land is still rich, it is much interrupted with swamps and stones. This is well watered and continues to Fayetteville, on Elk River, near the southern boundary of the State. There again we have the black loam and heavy timber, till within eighteen miles of Huntsville, when the chocolate lands commence again, like the barrens; though light, it is not destitute of timber. All of these lands extend from the mountains on the left, to the Ohio on the right. We forded all the rivers in Kentucky and Tennessee except Kentucky river. The Kentuckians are the handsomest people, by far, in the United States. They are not very stout men, but have fine features and very beautiful complexions. The Tennesseans are not so stout as the Kentuckians, nor so fair, but they are well shaped and more active. There is a native, bold independence in both, with this difference: the Kentuckians are great brags, whilst the Tennesseans, equally as brave and gallant, are wholly unconscious of their virtues. What astonished me most was their careless indifference on the subject of their late gallant achievement, particularly at New Orleans. They spoke of it with perfect unconcern, and only mentioned it when applied to, and then not half the same interest they would show on the subject of hunting and killing deer. Not so the Kentuckians—they appreciate their bravery to the greatest extent. The Kentucky ladies are very large, but are fair and well featured, and much more polished (excepting the ladies of Nashville) than the ladies of Tennessee; but the latter are better shaped, are very artless and the young women have a sweet simplicity in their looks and countenance. Both men and women are without disguise, nor have they any of that impertinent curiosity common to other States. But the most distinguishing trait of the Tennessean is that he treats all men alike. The nabob, with his splendid equipage, receives no more nor as much attention as the pedestrian. They are extremely jealous of wealthy, or what we call big, men. One of them, as I came on, being asked rather peremptorily by one of the big bugs, to rub down his horse, cursed him and told him to ‘Do it yourself—I am no man’s servant.’
“Last evening I had the pleasure of seeing General Coffee, the renowned soldier and companion of General Jackson. This hero, of whom you have heard so much, is upward of six feet in height, and proportionately wide. Nor did I ever see so fine a figure. He is thirty-five or thirty-six years of age, his face is full, and features handsome. His complexion is ruddy, though sunburned. His hair and eyes black and a soft serenity diffuses his countenance. His hair is carelessly thrown to one side and displays one of the finest foreheads in nature—high, smooth and retreating. His countenance has much animation while speaking and his eye sparkles. I expected to see a stern, haughty, fierce warrior. No such thing. You look in vain for the Indian fighter. He is as cool as a dewdrop, but deep in his soul you see very plain that desperate, firm, cool and manly courage which has covered him with glory. He must be a host when he is aroused. He speaks very slowly and may weigh about 200 weight.”
From Milton’s Bluff (which she says was afterward changed to Marathon), January 18, 1818, she writes: “Good news awaits you. Read on. Having collected a few books in a corner I heard some one say: ‘General Jackson, General Jackson comes,’ and running to my window I saw him walking slowly up the hill between two gentlemen, his aids. He was dressed in a blue frock coat, with epaulettes, a common hat, with a black cockade and a sword by his side. He is very tall and slender. He walked on by our door to Major Wyatt’s, his companion in arms, where he put up for the night, though he called on us that evening and the next morning. His person is finely shaped and his features not handsome, but strikingly bold and determined. He is very easy and affable in his manners, and loves a jest. He told one of our party he ‘was one of the blue hen’s chickens.’ He appears to be about fifty years old. There is a great deal of dignity about him. He related many hardships endured by his men in the army, but never a word of his own. His language is pure and fluent, and he has the appearance of having kept the best company. He has been ordered by the government against the Seminole Indians. His army is on the march considerably ahead of him, having crossed at Ditto’s Landing, up the river, but he came round by this place, to see his plantation and slaves.”