I have this. There's lots more at the South Caroliniana Library at the University of
South Carolina. I can give you a lot of his genealogy:
WHEELING, WINN PARISH,
LA.
December 13, 1858.
J.J. HOOPER, Esq.:
Dear Sir: -- Your letter of the 27th of November last came to this office some days back, and I would have tried to answer it before this, but have been too feeble to do so; and I now fear that I shall be unable to do justice to your inquiries, or answer them satisfactorily.
As to the correct date of my birth, there have ever been doubts, or differences of opinion among those who should have been best able to know the precise time I did come into existence. My father died, I think, on the 23d of March, 1800. I was then quite young, but recollect him very distinctly. Some two years after his death, my mother married a second husband. She lived but a few years afterwards, and then she died. I think she died in September, 1806. I was then left to work my way into eternity the best I could. So, you see I have got thus far through the journey of time, and from present appearances, it will not be long before I will have completed somewhat of a troublesome travel; or at least I think many, to have performed the trip, would have taken much of the route to be pretty rough.
But in order to account to you for the cause of there being doubts about the true date of my birth, I must here go into a few particulars of what I think was the cause. No doubt it will prove very uninteresting to you; but in times past it was a matter of great importance to me and others. As this may be published, I go into these details for two reasons: The first is, it will do justice to the memory of one of the purest and best men that ever lived. The second is, that if I was dealt unjustly with when young, it will inform one individual at least, if no more, who is now living, that I was not so ignorant as not to know it.
My father was possessed, for the time and country in which he lived, of what was then termed a pretty little property. He made a will, the purport of which was about this: That his property should be kept together until his son Thomas arrived to the age of twenty-one years -- (that was myself) -- and then to be divided among the heirs equally. And in the event that I should die before I was twenty-one years old, the property should be kept together until the time I would have been twenty-one had I lived, and then to be equally divided among the surviving heirs.
At the time of my father's death the heirs were -- my mother, a sister two years older than myself; myself, and a brother three years, to a day, younger than myself; -- or at least I have been informed so by a Mrs. Black, whose authority I presume was better than any other, as she was present at the births both of myself and brother. Mrs. Black will be remembered as a very intelligent woman, by some in
South Carolina,
Georgia and
Alabama. She was the mother of Major James Black, who was once, and may be yet, a citizen of
Alabama. He resided either in Wilcox or Monroe county; and a bluff known as Black's Bluff, took its name from James Black. I visited the old lady at her son's in
Alabama many years after I was grown. She seemed to have a more distinct recollection of my brother's age than she had of mine, and said he was born in February, 1797.
Not long after my father died, my brother died also; and my mother soon followed -- leaving an only sister and myself. About this time, the settlement of Milledgeville, Ga. commenced. A sister of my mother, who was as good as God ever makes people, took my sister and raised her; and I was left to "run in the range." But not long after my sister was taken to Milledgeville, a brother of my mother had me caught and taken there also; -- and if there was ever a better man than he, he lived before my time, or in some country which I have not been familiar with. He tried to tame me; he sent me to school to one John Posey, who taught in the State House, then an unoccupied building. But I had been so neglected, and had grown to such a size -- and finding boys greatly under my age and size so much further advanced than myself -- it embarrassed me; and every opportunity I could get to go into the country, and get with boys whom I could look upon as being more upon equality with myself, I would do so. The older members of my uncle's family could see, notwithstanding the coarse and rough manner in which I had been brought up, that I had sense enough to know my true situation, and felt my inferiority.
My uncle, his wife, (whom I yet love as a mother,) and down to the youngest child who could talk, treated me with the utmost kindness, and tried to make me feel as their equal; but I knew too well what I was, to be satisfied. I would play and frolic with his boys, to whom I became very much attached -- in fact, I loved them like brothers-and to-day that branch of my mother's family feel nearer to me than any relations I have on earth -- my niece, Mary Walker, excepted; and she would not feel as near to me as she does, but for her present embarrassed situation. *** much text skipped***
In 1812....I entered the army as a private soldier.
WHEELING, WINN PARISH,
LADecember 20, 1858.
J.J. HOOPER, Esq
Dear Sir: -- A few days back I wrote you a letter, in which I promised, as early as possible, to give you a little sketch of my family, my age, and also the little wars that I was engaged in in my younger days. My name is not as common as
Smith, but it is to be met with in all the States of this Union, as well as in many parts of Europe. Whether the name is Norman, Saxon, or German, originally, I do not know. But the name seems to have been derived from the occupation followed by those who bore it, at an early day. Woodward, one who protects the forest. My early ancestors of the name came from England, and settled in
Maryland, under George Calverton, Baron of Baltimore. And near Annapolis, my great grandfather, Thomas
Woodward, was born, and raised in
Maryland. He raised a family of children by a first wife -- she died, and he went into Fairfax county,
Virginia, and married my great grandmother, Elizabeth
Simpson, the descendant of a Scotch family -- and
Simpson is my middle name. Thomas
Woodward and Elizabeth
Simpson had one son, and called him Thomas, who was my grandfather. The old man returned to
Maryland to move his other children to Virginia; he died on his visit to
Maryland, and never returned, nor did his
Maryland children ever get to Fairfax, but some years after their father's death, some of them went to Dinwiddy county,
Virginia, and some to North Carolina; the North Carolina branch of the family has lost one letter in the name -- they spell the name with one W, instead of two. I could name many of the older ones of most of the branches of the family, but it would take up too much time, as well as room, for a paper of this sort. My great grandmother remained a widow for some years, when she married a man by the name of Robinson, and raised two sons, William and John, both of whom I have seen, as well as their mother. My mother carried me and my sister to
South Carolina when we were small children; the old lady was then living, and from what I have learned since, she was then about 112 years of age -- she died two years after. It has been said that Robinson neglected my grandfather's education, and he was suffered to grow up very much in the way that one of his grand sons has since. At an early age he showed some inclination to become a soldier, and was in the French war, and a part of the time with Gen. Washington, who was then a Major or a Colonel. My grandfather was a Captain in that service, and was a much older man than Gen. Washington, and from what I have been able to learn from Parson Weems and others, the old man was looked upon as a good fighter. He married at an early age, a woman by the name of Jemima Collins, and they had four daughters and two sons, John and William. His wife died while he was in the service. At the close of the French war he was ordered on the frontier of
South Carolina, leaving his children in
Virginia. While in
South Carolina, he became acquainted with my grandmother, who was his second wife. And it is the blood of that grandmother which courses through my veins, that in early life tempted me to quit what the world terms civilized and Christian man.
I will now give you as accurately as I can the true history of that branch of my family. At the very earliest settlement of
South Carolina by Europeans, and at the time those tribes of Indians that inhabited the lower parts of the Carolinas and
Georgia, viz: the Sowanokas, Uchees, Yemacraws and others, a European, either of French or Spanish origin, by the names of Silves, (I think the name was originally spelled Silvester, but pronounced Silves,) came to Beaufort, S.C., took an Indian woman for a wife, and raised a family of children. About the time Silves's eldest daughter arrived to womanhood, an Englishman by the name of Thomas Stokes came to the country and turned Indian trader. Stokes took the daughter of Silves for a wife, and raised four children by her, two sons and two daughters, and one of them was my grandmother -- her name was Elizabeth. She married one John May. The other daughter, whose name I have forgotten, (though I was much better acquainted with her than I was with my grandmother,) married a man by the name of Joiner.
The two sons were Thomas and Silvester. They were both Whigs in the American Revolution, and in a skirmish with some British and Tories, at the old ridge, not far from the line of Edgefield and Lexington Districts, S. C, they were both badly wounded, and escaped at the time, but were necessarily forced, from their wounds, to go to a settlement to have them dressed. They were betrayed and taken prisoners by the British, and if not hanged at the same time with Col. Haynes, they were just before or after.
My grandmother raised three children by John May, two sons and a daughter, when May died. She then married my grandfather, and settled in the
Fairfield District -- they raised three sons and three daughters -- my father was the oldest of the young set of children. My grandfather, after marrying my grandmother, moved his mother and two half brothers from
Virginia to
South Carolina. When the Revolution commenced, he raised among the first companies, if not the first, that was raised in
South Carolina. He was killed on Dutchman's
Creek, in a fight with the British and Tories, on the 12th of May, 1779. My half uncle, Ben. May, took command of his company. My half uncle, John
Woodward, raised another company. My father, who was rather young at the commencement of the war to take the field, after his father was killed entered the service -- his two own brothers being too young.
As many of the children and grand children of these men are now living, and know but little of the old stock, I will here give a list of the names of my father's family that served in the Revolution, and to a man I believe, were at the battle of Eutaw, except my grandfather and two grand uncles, Tom and Sil. Stokes, who were then dead.
My two half uncles, John and William Woodward; my half uncle, Ben. May -- (my half uncle, Tom May, was a cripple, and never served.) Now for the son-in-laws, or those that married my aunts. The oldest first: James Nelson, Phillip Raiford, Robert Rabb, James Andrews, Phillip
Riley, William McMorris, William J. Augustin, Reeves Freeman, and Thomas
Woodward, who was the youngest of the crowd, and my father. I have seen many of my grandfather's old company; they were said to be good fighters. But I have heard the old ones say that my uncle Ben. May and uncle William
Woodward were looked on as being the most daring men of that day.
My uncle William
Woodward represented
Fairfield District in Congress for several years, and the same District has been represented by his son Joseph, since, and it is his son William that represents Sumter county, in the
Alabama Legislature. My mother was a Howard; her father was Nehemiah Howard, a Virginian by birth, and of an English family. My grandmother Howard was Edith
Smith, and descended from a Welch family; it is said her father settled Smithfield, on Neuse River, in Johnson county, North Carolina. My grandmother Howard died in Milledgeville, Ga., very near one hundred years of age. I remember to have seen her mother when I was a small boy; it was said she was over a hundred years old; she was then a widow Edmonson. There were nine brothers of the Howard family, and five sisters; they all lived to be grown and raise a family of children, except three -- two uncles, one of whom was killed by a horse, and the other was drowned. My youngest aunt of that family was accidentally burned to death. My mother was the ninth child, and the first of the family that died a natural death. Maj. James Howard, late of Macon county,
Alabama, was the next child to my mother, and was the last of the fourteen children to die, which was some two or three years back
I think I have wrote enough to satisfy you that I have had, and yet have, some relations, though I seldom see any of them; the balance I write now will be little things pertaining pretty much to myself.
Not long after the close of the Revolution, my father left
Fairfield District, S.C., and went into Union District, and taught school; several of the Howard family went to the school; among them was my mother, and the children younger than herself. The school continued for some ten years, and at the close of the school my father gave my grandfather Howard to understand that he wished to marry his daughter Mary. It was objected to by the whole Howard family, except John and Ben. Howard. My father returned to
Fairfield, and my grandfather Howard moved to
Georgia. My grandfather
Woodward had a large property in land and negroes for the time in which he lived, and after his death and the close of the war, the heirs set about a division. There was soon a split between the white and Indian children. My father took a few negroes and left for the Cherokee nation. On his route he called at my grandfather Howard's who had then settled in what is now called Elbert county,
Georgia, and within six miles of the head of
Savannah River. My father tried a second time to get the consent of my grandfather, and through the influence of the two brothers, John and Ben, the matter was arranged. My father settled on
Savannah River, between the mouths of two creeks, Lightwood Log and Powder Log, and in Elbert county. There had been at a very early day a stockade fort erected at the place by Gen. Perkins and Col. Cleveland -- it was at the old Cherokee crossing, when that tribe was in the habit of trading to Ninety-Six, (96) or Cambridge, as it is now called. This old work stood near what was known in my time as Shockley's Ferry -- the block-houses had been converted into dwelling houses -- in fact, they had been put up first as dwelling houses and picketed in. In one of these houses I was born; an old lady by the name of Black was present -- I have made mention of her before. I was born between the 22d of February, 1794, and the 22d of Feb., 1797, but it is impossible for me to know which, as there have been so many conflicting statements about it, for I rely nothing on any record that I have seen, and if I am to judge from what I can recollect of my father (who died in March, 1800) and other things, I am satisfied that I will be sixty-five years of age on the 22d February next. I do not claim to be born on that day, because the greatest man that our country ever had happened to be born on that day. All the old ones that I have talked to agree as to the day and month, but many of them differ as to the year. But there is one thing sure, I was born at some time and at some place, and if I don't find some time and place to die at, before a great while, it may be looked upon as a miracle.
I entered the army on the first day of July, 1812, and accompanied Gen. Daniel Newnan to East Florida. I was in no fight in that expedition. I was at Kingsley's house, and in sight of
Capt. Cone and his men when they had a little skirmish with the Indians, and
Capt. Farren was killed. I went with some other militia under Tom Rix, to take a look at the castle of St. Augustine. We were taken for Cone's patriots, and were fired upon. If ever I see you, I will tell you an amusing story about that affair, but it would be too long here. I camped one night at Twelve Mile Swamp, with Sergeant McIntosh, and others, when the Indians or Spaniards fired a few guns at the camp, and made us leave. Some month or two after that, Dr. Fort, of Milledgeville,
Georgia -- who was a Captain at that time -- and a
Capt. Williams, of the Marines, camped at the same place. They were attacked by a large party of Indians and Spaniards, and had a severe fight, and lost several men. Fort and
Williams were both wounded;
Williams died of his wounds, and
Fort, if living, will be a cripple for life. As to the fighting, I done but little and saw less; but if it was foot-racing, wrestling, swimming, and the like, I was among the foremost.
At the close of that expedition I returned to Milledgeville, half naked, half starved, and the ague and fever every other day. On my route home, I recollect to have met with Seaborn Jones, Beckney Franklin, (the Solicitor for that circuit,) Peter Easly, (he was Judge,) a Mr. Sawyer, Hiram Stores, Tom Fitch, Stephen W. Harris, (the father of Wat. and Sampson) -- all lawyers. I gave Jones the only trophy I had taken, in the war -- it was a walking stick taken from the palm tree -- so you see I have borne off a palm in time of war, but never have been in a Legislature or Congress like some, who have borne off perhaps less than a palm. My service was in 1813-14, under Gen. Floyd. I was in his night-fight, as it was called at Caleebe
Creek -- I know as much about that fight an any man living or dead. Barney
Riley, a half breed, that killed John Lucas, and myself accompanied Captain Harvey one night from
Fort Hall to Milly's
Creek, just above the Federal Crossing, and took the wife of Ben. Moseley from the hostile Indians -- killed three and crippled a few more. This trip to Milly's
Creek was in February, 1814; the Caleebe fight was on the 27th Jan., 1814. The army returned home, and I remained, as I have before informed you, to take charge of
Fort Hull.
After I returned from
Fort Hawkins with Col. Milton's horse, as I mentioned to you before, I remained altogether with the Indians, until the last of April or first of May; I then went to
Georgia, remained a few weeks, and returned to the Nation, and spent most of the summer among the Indians. Some times I have been fired on by out-lying Indians-and some would have called them fights if they could have been got into the newspapers, before they got cold. That fall a call was made for troops to go to the City of
Savannah. Capt. Horton, who commanded the Baldwin company, requested me to go with him as a kind of drill-master -- not to go as a soldier in the service, but merely as a follower of the army -- and that himself and officers would support me and give me soldier's pay themselves, as I would be entitled to none from the government. I declined the offer, but I met with a man by the name of Tom Cothron, who had just been in the State long enough to stand a draft, and it had fallen to his lot to take the field. He was somewhat afraid to risk his health in the winter season at
Savannah, and wanted a substitute. He found a man that agreed to take his place for fifty dollars, but
Capt. Horton would not take him. Tom Cothran was the stingiest man I ever knew, except Judge
Smith and John Crayon. I promised Cothron to take his place for one hundred dollars, and he was to consider himself dead in the eye of the law should I be killed. The trade was made and in I went. Militiamen, with a hundred dollars in their pockets, did not go in gangs in them days.
We reached Camp
Covington -- the Captain allowed me all the privileges that he dared to. I was soon detailed for a teamster, and it was not long before I was as well acquainted with
Savannah and its inhabitants (the better classes excepted) as any one belonging to the army. I had a very fine suit of Indian fixins,' known to but few. There was a young man in Glasscock's company by the name of
Augustus Parker, who had been raised among the Indians, and spoke the language much better than I could. There was a man in Horton's company by the name of Jacob Durden, a fine pensman, who wrote out a passport, and signed Col. Hawkins' name to it. With the aid of the Indian dress,
Augustus Parker, and the forged passport, I imposed myself upon Gen. Floyd, and as many others as I chose to, and among them was Gen. Watson, my brother-in-law. I played it off upon the citizens of
Savannah until I got tired. A great many of the tricks would have amused you, could you have witnessed them at the time. I was well acquainted with most of the officers and men that belonged to that army. It so happened that some of the officers of the army got to visiting a circus that was in the city, and had once or twice got into some little troubles with some naval officers, and a knock down or two had taken place, all being dressed in citizen clothes. A Major Mitchell, and some other officers proposed to take me along one night and pay my way to the circus, and if anything like a knock down took place, I was to lend a hand. I went, and after the show was over, all hands went to a drinking house, or grocery. We had not been there long before a dispute arose between the landsmen and seaman. The signal was given, and I let in on the little tarry-trousered fellows, and it was not long before I received a blow on the side of the head with a stick, which put me to some trouble to know whether it was the grocery or myself that was knocked down. But I soon found out that it was myself that had lost my balance, and called for quarter. Seamen are much more generous in a matter of that sort than landsmen, and they hauled off, and when I come to look around, my crowd had left. The seamen asked me who I was and what I was. I made a fair statement of the whole matter. They said I was a pretty good fellow, but could not be let off until I would go to a tavern and take something to eat and drink with them. I consented, thinking to get a chance to leave them. The tavern, I think, was kept by one Shellman.
Not long after we reached the tavern, a man by the name of Campbell came in. I knew him; he had been a soldier in 1812, under Col. John
Williams, from East Tennessee. He informed me that he was then a marine, and belonged to the sloop-of war Epervier, or El Epervier, and that much money was to be made by shipping on board of her. I soon found that some of those who had been in the frolic at the grocery were naval officers, for they would at times ask me if I knew the penalty for striking an officer. They soon found that I knew it was necessary for them to have worn some badge, so as to distinguish them from other persons. So they resorted to the liquor, and through that and Campbell, I suppose, I went on board. At all events, the firing of the morning gun at
Fort Wayne waked me. I found myself roosting like a swallow, under deck, swung in a hammock; I guessed what had happened. I went on deck, and felt, as well as looked, pretty much like the fellow that took Aleck McDougald's tumbler.
The news came that the British were about to force their way by Tybee, and come to the city; they weighed anchor, took some soldiers from Yellow Barracks and
Fort Wayne, and put down the river. The soldiers were put on shore at such places as they were needed. The Epervier was commanded by a
Capt. Downs, who had been with Commodore Porter at Valparaiso, and he [Downs] had after that commanded the Essex, junior; the other officers on board that I became acquainted with were Lieuts. Shubrick and Stevens. The Epervier crowded sail and put to sea, as I thought. I seated myself on a gun in the stern of the sloop -- some called it the stern-chaser, others the long Tom.. But so it was, I sat on that gun and watched the land until it looked about as narrow as a little blue stripe in a home-made vest that I wore. It was not long before some fellow sung out in the tops, "a sail in sight." The Epervier soon tacked and put into
Savannah. The sail that was seen was said to be a part of the British squadron under the command of Admiral Cogburn, or Cockrain, I forget which. I had been but a few days on board, and was extremely tired of a seaman's life.
By this time the news of peace had reached
Savannah. I asked permission of the Captain to go on shore and visit my friends at Camp
Covington, which he refused. The sloop was lying not more than fifty yards from the shore, and I had not been on board long enough to lose my action, or get the sailor's rock; and it so happened that the Captain and Lieut. Shubrick went on shore in the yawl, and the Captain's gig, as it was called, was lashed up to the sides of the sloop. I watched my opportunity, took a running start, jumped upon the Long Tom, and from that I jumped over the bulwark into the river, and swam ashore. Those on the sloop hollowed to those on shore to stop me, but there happened to be a pile of staves close by, and I gathered one and forced my way through their ranks. One fellow, to be smart, followed me on horse back. I took him off, mounted the horse and rode him a few squares, tied him to a post and went into a hotel, kept by two ladies -- Mary
Williams and Becky Blackstrap. They knew me, for it was at their house I had laid out the best part of Tom Cothron's hundred dollars. They died my clothes, and that night I went to Camp
Covington, and put up with one William Rice, a very good man -- why I say he was a good man, I was with him several months in a militia camp, and he, like Elijah Moseley, would pray at night and fight in the day, if called upon -- he was a good friend to me, at all events, and was for years after; but when I rescued Henry Augustine, who was under guard for killing George Crookshank, I understood that Billy Rice became my enemy; but if he is living, and as good as I think he was, he no doubt has forgiven me long since. The last I heard of him he was a Methodist preacher, either in Autauga or Lowndes county.
I remained about Camp
Covington until Gen. Watson could employ me a lawyer -- he employed a Mr. Pelote. I then started for the sloop, which had dropped down to Five Fathom, near
Fort Jackson; I hailed her, and they asked what I wanted. I told them who I was, and they told me to come on board as I went on shore; the weather was cold, but I took the water and reached the vessel. The Captain asked me why I had acted so. I told him I was drunk when I shipped, and that I had asked his permission to go on shore, and he had refused me the privilege, and that I wished to see my friends before I left -- for it had already been understood that if peace was made with Great Britain, that the Epervier was to go up the Mediterranean with a fleet under Commodore Decatur. I was let off, and in a few hours two persons came along side -- one of them was the Sheriff of Chatham county, John B. Norris. Norris was after that Sheriff of Dallas county,
Alabama, and perhaps a merchant in Claiborne and Mobile. He served a writ of habeas corpus on the Captain; I was taken to the city. I knew no one to give as security for my appearance at court, and of course I was put in prison. I then would have been glad to be back on the ship. I was put in a room with three others -- I shall recollect my room-mates as long as I live. There was one John Scales, and a man by the name of
Phelps and Phillip
Fitzpatrick. Scales and
Phelps were charged with having sold beef to the British, while they lay off Sunberry. Fitzpatrick had killed a man by the name of McGraw, in Effingham county, and I for good behaviour.
The jailer, or manager of the prison, was named McCall, and I think once wrote a history of
Georgia. He was a bad cripple, unable to walk, and had to go over the floor in a little wagon constructed for the purpose, and a big negro man to carry him from one floor to another. Though, let me finish with my room-mates -- Scales,
Phelps and
Fitzpatrick. They escaped from prison during my stay about the place. Scales I never heard of;
Phelps I heard was killed years after about Vicksburg, Miss.; and
Fitzpatrick I think was the man that aided Gen. Jessup in procuring the Cuba blood hounds, in 1836. I had not been in my room but a few hours before I recognized the sentinel who guarded the door, or who was on that walk. His name was James Collins; I had known him long and well. I requested him to see Maj. McCaIl, and say to him that if it would not be deviating too much from his established rules, that I would be glad to be taken to where I could see him, if he could not come to the cell. In a few moments a Mr. Hanglighter, the turn key, and two soldiers, came and conveyed me to Maj. McCall. I made a fair statement of my case, and informed him that my brother-in-law was a Quarter Master at Camp
Covington, and that if he would permit me to write, I could give any security that would be asked. I by chance mentioned that John Howard, of Milledgeville, was my uncle. The old man told me it made no difference
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More under wife
From "The American Old West, Woodward's Reminiscences, A Personal Account of the
Creek Nation in
Georgia and
Alabama" by General Thomas S. Woodward,, Barrett & Wimbish, Book and General Job Printers, 1859. Montgomery,
Alabama. Entered according to Act of Congress, on the 9th day of January, 1859 by J.J. Hooper, as Proprietor, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Middle District of
Alabama