Memoir of Evelina McNeal Bills Polk
Written for her daughter, Evelyn McNeal Polk Eldred
Evelina McNeal Bills was married to Marshall Tate Polk on January 10, 1856 at The Pillars, the home of her father, John Houston Bills, in Bolivar, Tennessee. They lived in Bolivar until they moved to Nashville in 1876. This memoir was found, hand written in a leather bound notebook that was the property of Evelyn Polk Eldred. Transcribed by Olive B. Eldred, 1984.
January 10, 1919
I have hesitated to begin these reminiscences. Perhaps I dreaded bringing back to memory those sad, sad days when our life seemed dead. But I will try and remember some of the scenes of that memorable time.
It came suddenly. At least the getting up of the companies---making uniforms---all done by our own town women. The drilling, in the short time—your father doing most of it as he was a West Point graduate. The First Company Infantry under Cousin Rufus Neely; the Second Calvary (under) Cousin Jack Neely, Captain ---the Third Artillery---your father, Captain 150 men. We worked incessantly to make their uniforms and such things as we could give them for their comfort. Brother Robert Wood came in with 7th Company Infantry. All these companies gotten up in Hardeman County. This in 1861. Your father left me in my country home but I found it impossible to live there---no protection---so my father had me come to his house and I occupied the little cottage in his yard with Knox, my only child.
Our Hardeman County troops went to Jackson, Tennessee and on to Union City where they remained until they went to Columbus and fought in the Battle of Belmont. Pillow under Gen. Frank Cheatam in command. Our army fell back from there and next stand was made at, or near, Corinth, Mississippi at Pittsburg Landing or Shiloh as it is called. The big battle was fought --- won and lost --- by the inability of Beauregard to comprehend the situation. Albert Sidney Johnson was killed on the 6th of April and Beauregard, after the Federals had sacked their arms on the bank of the Tennessee River to give them up--- called off the troops. The Federals, reinforced that night by Buell’s command, came in fresh and our troops were compelled to give back to Corinth. Your father was left on the battlefield with a shattered leg --- carried afterwards to the cabin of a poor old woman whose house was taken possession of by the wounded. There he laid many days --- a prisoner --- unable to have his leg examined until a Federal surgeon could have time to attend to the Confederates. When it was examined superficially --- they thought he might be able to keep it --- so he was put in a box and carried to a steamboat to be carried up the river to a hospital.
The boat was commanded by a Captain Turner. His wife took a fancy to your father and had his cot placed in her cabin and said she would nurse him herself. So they went up the river and passed all the hospitals and returned to Pittsburg Landing. Started up once again. The yanks grew jealous. Published in papers that a Rebel was being pampered, etc. When the boat reached Evansville, a mob gathered and demanded his landing. Captain Turner said he would not so it --- but that he thought the motion of the boat was bad for his leg, so he dropped down to the Marine Hospital and landed him there. As he lay on his cot on the riverbank, some women came and pulled the sheet from his face to look at him. Refined people truly. He made friends in the hospital however. Fond friends and true. Dr. DeBrueler’s son, about 16 years old, sat by him and talked to him day after day. Dr. DeBrueler amputated his leg --- but it had to be done above the knee --- as it had remained on so long the pus had gotten above the knee joint. He lay there many weeks --- until his aunt Sarah, Mrs. James K. Polk, asked the favor of the Commanding General --- General Halleck --- to allow her to have him removed to her home in Nashville, Tennessee. She sent a trained nurse up for him. He was brought down by boat to Nashville --- to her. We all owe her a debt of gratitude for she saved his life undoubtedly. The hospital in Evansville had erysipelas in it and your father had it severely.
All this while I was in my home in Bolivar, knew not where he was --- as we were in the debatable county and had no news except grapevine. Finally, Wallace’s Corps came down to Bolivar and also a letter from Aunt Walker telling me to hurry up to Nashville as Marsh was very low.[1] This letter my Father did not let me see. It enclosed one from your father telling me what to do in case of his death, which he expected. So Pa kept it but used a pass Aunt Walker had sent and hurried me off. I traveled in my own open carriage with my baby, Mamie – 9 months old, Anna, my nurse, Alphius, your father’s body servant as driver, and my cousin, Jerome Hill, who had been discharged from the Southern Army on account of ill health (they diagnosed it consumption). We had a hard trip to Columbia, passing through Yankee camps and sleeping in cabins wherever we could get anybody to take us in. At Columbia, we got a train and reached Nashville.
My poor Marsh was an utter wreck. So thin I scarcely knew him and still had erysipelas. Dr. Tom Madden, his doctor, would give him serctum which affected his heart and I had to watch him every moment and whenever his heart was too fast, stimulate him. I used to sit beside him in the dark night and think every moment would be his last. I was all alone --- so scared. The doctor said after I reached him he improved everyday --- slowly of course. My poor little Mamie nearly starved as I, of course could give little nourishment to her when I was so pained and unhappy.
Finally, your father recovered sufficiently for us to go to Columbia, Tennessee. There our fond relations cared for us and invited us to their homes until your father was able to return to the army at Shelbyville. He was in the Battle of Murfreesboro, having been exchanged by the Yankees. Our army fell back to Shelbyville and your father was made Chief of Artillery in Polk’s Corps. Our army remained a good while in Shelbyville and them fell back to Chattanooga. We had so little food for our men --- so little ammunition--- so little of anything. No clothing for them. Poor boys, they were half starved, about naked.
I saw out troops reviewed at Tullahoma by General Joe Johnson and General Polk. I sat in an ambulance right by them. General Hardee, General Lucius Polk, General Krohl, General Cleburn of Arkansas --- all there. So handsome! So brave! Your father road a big black horse. Was strapped to the saddle and he galloped around until, your father told me afterwards, he thought at any moment he would throw him, but he looked as if he enjoyed it. Our army was in fine condition then. Shelbyville had fed the horses and men so well. I stayed at Mr. jack Green’s house a few miles form Shelbyville. All the artillery was packed there. Our young officers were so gay and we had parties in which all danced. One dear fellow from St. Louis --- very handsome --- lost both legs --- then his life at Chattanooga. I began trying to get back home. I was in Cousin Lucius Polk’s. Once I had my little trunk packed on the porch and some friends of mine from Jackson, Tennessee came by for me in an old conveyance. Cousin Lucius said he would command me as one of his own daughters and I could not go and must not. I obeyed him with bitter tears. The ladies were six months getting home. My husband in Chattanooga, Knox in Bolivar. I had been from home 15 months. I had to take the risks. So Mr. Matthews, who had married my father’s sister Aunt Sally, told me he would be on the west side of the Tennessee River near Clifton on a certain date and would take me home. I got Uncle Gardner Dobbins to promise to take me to Clifton --- about two days trip from his home near Columbia. He had a high old barouche with steps that let down and two blind horses. My trunk was strapped on and I was just saying goodbye to Aunt Emily and family, when we looked up the hill and saw Yankee soldiers coming down. The trunk was hastily taken off --- the barouche and horses hurried away and we awaited them. They did not stop long by Mr. Dobbins could not leave his unprotected family with Yanks in Columbia (he lived about three miles out). He went over to a neighbors and persuaded a young man named Gordon to come over and drive me. I started off as a big storm was coming up and spent the night at Mt. Pleasant at a doctor’s house. Cousin Lucius’s family doctor. He gave me letters to a Mr. Porter and I spent the second night there. He directed me to a friend of his in Clifton who would carry me across the River Tennessee there. So I was taken care of in Clifton by good Southern folks and the next morning this good man drew his canoe up out of the river and put Mamie and me and my poor little trunk in and rowed across the river. No passing across from one side to the other was permitted but this good Southerner said I should go across in spite of gunboats which piled up and down. On the west side I found Mr. Matthews in his little one horse spring wagon. I kneeled and kissed the good West Tennessee sand and soon was in the wagon with my trunk and baby. But not long did I stay. The road was so bad and poor Perley, the old horse, so worn out, I preferred walking. A good Southern woman on horseback carried Mamie and I trudged along for many miles. Roaming bands of bushwhackers were everywhere. A Confederate who had been taken by the Yankees, held on a gunboat for two weeks, made to take the oath of allegiance to the United States. He said he would help any Southerner as long as he lived --- immediately went with us and showed us how to avoid these bands. Slept that night in a house in a room with a woman and man and six children and an ole grandmother. Yanks came by in the night and asked if she had seen any Confederates. She went to the door and answered that she had not. Southerners came by later and asked the same question and she gave them the same answer. Our old horse and wagon were hidden out in the woods. My little trunk under the bed. I, fully clothed, slept with Mamie in a bed made on the side of the room. Pretty hard at that. So, we plodded on. Peter Perley only able to make 24 miles a day. Mr. Matthews had come up with him from Mobile, Alabama bringing letters from our boys to their parents all along the road. The little cart was full of them and he remembered everywhere he had to leave them. We passed through Lexington, Tennessee, just a half hour after they had a fight there. The windows of the uptown section were all shot up and broken but we came though untouched. So we jogged on until we reached the Hatchie River then Mr. Huell, whom we met going to his home with a great carbuncle on his neck, told us that the ferry boat was tied up for the night and we could not cross. I called him and told him who I was and he said, “You shall cross.” “I can get across the river and bring the boat over”, which he did. I slept in my father’s house that night and saw Knox from whom I had been away from for fifteen months.[2] He did not know me but he was so dear and beautiful. I was nearly worn out but youth can soon recuperate and I did.
There were many changes in Bolivar. The Yankees had been there for months. Wallace’s Division had come all the damage they could and left us to be harassed by roving bands of soldiers coming in by regiments and destroying everything they could not carry away in the way of foods. I will mention here that General Ross (Yankee) stole and rode away on a fine stallion my husband owned. I doubt whether the U.S. Government ever heard of the “horse!”
Our farm was relieved of all corn, fodder, and everything that Yankees could use. 500 cords of wood out in front of the house and all rails from fences, hauled into town for use of the Yankees in town. My father put a Union man named young in the home on the farm to keep it from being burned down. He was there three years and then grumbled that he had to give it up at all almost a year after peace was declared.
My husband was not allowed to vote for 17 years after Peace and every now and then was threatened with having his land confiscated to the Federal Government as he was a West Pointer. He said the man who took his place would not live long, as he intended to kill him the first time he put his foot out of the yard. Happily, this was avoided as confiscation did not take place.
I remained for a long time at my father’s home. After, we were annoyed by roving Yankee troops. Finally took an officer in the house so we could live.
Hart, an unprincipled Yankee Captain from McNairy, was a great annoyance. For instance, on one occasion a firm, Jarrett and Wyatt, in Bolivar, owed a small sum to a private in his command. He was camped near the Hatchie River and sent up word early one morning that if that money was not paid to this man in two hours, he would burn homes in Bolivar till it was --- selecting Dr. Wood’s, Cousin Rufus, Jack Neely, Brother Robert, Uncle McNeal and my father’s. Said, “If Jesus Christ came and asked him not to do it, he still would.” Imagine our feelings. Dr. Wood got the money (where it was buried) and sent it down --- so we were saved. Keep Hart’s name in your memory. He said Bolivar was a set of aristocrats --- he had been there a year and never asked into one of their homes --- he would rather burn them than not.
Another mean little civilian made a general from Chicago, Illinois, the only man who was ever rude to my beloved father. General C. had many ways of annoying our town’s people. On one occasion the town girls were walking out for a little exercise. They passed the Male Academy where some Confederate prisoners were incarcerated upstairs. These poor fellows bowed to them and they waved their handkerchiefs at them. This was enough for this little general. He ordered the girls arrested and brought to him. They were gathered up --- sent in my father’s carriage. The general then proceeded to lecture them (he said if they walked to headquarters the soldiers would insult them.) He walked up and down and threw himself into a perfect rage --- said among other things, “young ladies would you wave to a lot of vagabond thieves?” Mamie Wood said, “We thought they were Confederate soldiers.” He was speechless with rage. Poor Emma Grey thought she would take a ride on a poor little pony they had (were not allowed to go out of town). She put on a cap she had had for years --- a blue one with a little star in front---she was arrested for making a Bonnie Blue Flag of herself. Such were some of the petty annoyances the girls endured. No one was allowed to but a think without a permit from the authorities --- meal, flour, or anything --- our men at home I mean.
General Ross said that he never intended to cut his hair until the Rebellion was put down. Kate Neely sent him a tucking comb saying he would need it. She was banished to the South for her temerity.
Hart, once in one of his raids, had my father arrested and searched our house five times in one day. They kept him up town all day and when he came home he was so exhausted he could not get up our long steps. He could only say, “My daughter what happened.” “We are all right dear Pa. Thank God.” “But I can stay no longer. I will move to one of the British Islands. I have saved enough to live on and it is in England --- will you go?” “No Pa, I can’t leave this country as long as my husband is here. I will stay and take care of your home.” Luckily peace came the next week. Gallant Lee saw there was no other way but to surrender --- splendid Grant met him as a gentleman should --- greatly to the disgust of Northern Republicans who wanted Lee humiliated.
Well, after I had been home over a year, I so wanted to see my husband that again I started out this time taking Knox and Clara, my sister. Marsh was crazy for us and rode on horseback 30 miles from Mississippi --- spent one day at home and we started that same evening in my barouche --- got as far as Mr. Grey’s 10 miles from Bolivar --- heard Federals were coming near us --- got up at ten o’clock at night and took up our weary journey. There had been a small fight a near Bolivar --- the wounded men and horses came straggling along. Captain Wheeler drove my carriage, my husband mounting a horse and riding it in front of us with a handkerchief pinned to his back to show us the way in the dreary darkness. Men walked on both sides of our carriage to keep it from turning over as there were no roads one could use. We jogged on --- so tired. Knox, 5 years old, said, “Mama, let’s go back to Grand Pa’s. I’m so tired of Mississippi.” We reached Ripley and a niece of Mr. Pitzer Miller sent for us to come to her home. We spent the night with her and never was hospitality more appreciated. The next day we took up our march for Aberdeen, Mississippi where my husband was the Commander of the Post. The good Hatchs took us in to their comfortable home. I spent some time there. Clara stopped at Okolona with Cousin Annie David and met Maj. Allison --- he then of Forrest’s staff --- their courtship followed and subsequent marriage.
Near Aberdeen lived an aunt of my husband --- Aunt Willis --- although she did not find him some months --- having heard he was killed at Shiloh. Strange to say her name was Evalina Wood --- my name. She lived between Aberdeen and Columbus on a splendid farm with every comfort. Her sons on either side of her. Five artesian wells they both had and were in good circumstances. She took me out to her home and was so good to me and Knox. She lived about 12 or 15 miles from Aberdeen --- such a fine old lady (a sister of Marsh’s grandmother who’s name was Mary Wood --- she married Joseph Wilson, a Chief Justice of North Carolina.) After a while we wanted to return to Tennessee. Clara sold Pa’s Negro man --- our four Negroes had been scattered everywhere working fortifications for the South. These Negroes came from Tunica County, Mississippi where my father had a large plantation.) We bought a mule and took a horse we used which belonged to a lady near Hickory Valley who wanted him back. Jim Fleming undertook to drive us back. We had a wagon and driver with a few bales of cotton sending up to exchange for sugar, a Negro woman in a spring wagon trying to get to Memphis and a sick soldier on horseback, this was our cavalcade. We would travel as far as we could each day then try to fine someplace we could get accommodations and sleep. We would buy fresh corn or roasting ears as we traveled on and the Negro woman would fry our meat and corn is a skillet she had and make us coffee and bread --- we paying her expenses. I walked half the way home I am sure for we had to go around risen waters and found it many miles out of the way, When we reached McNairy it was such a mean Union county we were certainly alarmed. Armed men would ride by us and look suspiciously at us. We spent one night in it --- there I had my first bite from a cinch. It raised a limp as large as a partridge egg on my arm.
Before reaching McNairy we had many funny experiences --- the places we had to sleep in --- one we got to the home at nearly dark. We slept in a room where there was nearly a foot of wheat all over the floor. The bed was occupied by a boy of about 16 --- the dirtiest thing you ever saw. We, Clara and I and Knox, put one shawl on the bed and slept on one and covered with the other not taking our clothes off. Another place we noticed the children scratching. Clara asked them what bit them --- they replied, We’ve got the each (itch). Uncle John brought it from the camps to us.” All the light we had anywhere after dark was from pine knots they put in the fireplaces.
Poor Jim Fleming who was driving us --- as we neared home and wanted to make it that night --- stood up in the carriage to whip the mule. He leaned too far forward and had to jump to keep from falling out. It hurt him tremendously for he was already lame in one leg from his wounds --- but managed to hold out and we reached home at last. How good it looked to poor, tired creatures as we were.[3]
Our people in Bolivar had had hard times. I left Mamie with my sister Mary. The Yankees shelled the town as they knew Forrest had been there. Unlimbered their artillery on our farm. My sister and children with poor little Mamie went into cellars for protection. Mrs. Brooks’s home had a cannon ball pass through it.
Many things happened in the town --- many hardships. The citizens had to get a permit from headquarters to buy anything, even a spool of thread or a bushel of meal or flour.
My Uncle Ezekiel McNeal had a most serious time. He had a plantation 12 miles from town to which he often had to go to see if things were getting along all right. On returning from this trip to Bolivar, he ran into a company of Confederates hunting a Yankee troop they heard was around. The captain told Uncle he had better go back to the farm and stay there till the next day as they likely would meet the Yankees and have a fight. Uncle, an old man in his 60s took their advice and went back. When he came back home he was arrested --- some Yankees declaring that they had seen him with a pistol in his hand shooting at them (the troops did have a fight.) Uncle was taken up and tried, the verdict to be shot if found guilty. Soldiers said they saw him shoot. They were asked to point him out. They pointed to Mr.Aleck Ramsey, a good Union man saying “That is he!” Uncle was released but was made to pay a fine of $1200. This sum, I am happy to say, Albert McNeal got back from the US government, proving conclusively its falsehood.
General Grant was a great man and a just one --- a soldier and a gentleman. My Aunt Mary Miller’s home was taken for his headquarters. Aunt Mary and her little children staying there and keeping house. She was a very delicate and gentle woman (Judge Miller, her husband, had to go South to keep away from arrest.) On one occasion, General Sherman came down to have a conference with General Grant. Sitting at my Aunt Mary’s table he said in his opinion the only way to end the war was to exterminate the Southern people. Poor Aunt Mary burst into tears and had to leave the table. Sherman the Brute never did. It was he who burned homes, devastated property for 30 miles on each side of his army on his march to the sea. Remember Sherman. Avoid him.
Incidents: At the Battle Forrest fought and whipped the Yankees --- sent them flying back to Memphis. My ambulance driver --- a little old Negro man --- was standing outside in a safe place --- he hoped --- when Forrest saw him and immediately ordered him to bring out wounded soldiers. He started in and a cannon ball went through the back of the ambulance --- that settled him --- he put his whip to the mules --- said they ran away --- never stopped until he reached Aberdeen. The Yanks robbed all the houses in their march. I saw a very handsome silver sugar bowl hacked up by an axe so it would go into the Yanks pocket. He dropped it in his haste to get away.
While in Aberdeen we all used to make envelopes of wall paper. Glue them together using the plain side to write on. No coffee --- sweet potatoes and okra see for it. I stuck to milk for mine. The Hatch’s were so good to me. I can never forget them.
We had hard times after we got to our home[4] but I was so glad to get there they seemed a trifle. Provisions of any kind were exceedingly dear but I had my husband home and was very happy. There was not a fence on the place nor any animals. One cow was left. My father gave me 2 sows and a cow or two. I soon had plenty of growing things around me. We had to but all of our corn from the North in bags --- very high in the prices --- but I had a splendid garden --- raised many chickens and turkeys. After my cows increased, I ran a dairy for a while until I moved to Bolivar so I could educate my children. Then Knox Tate took our farm and cared for it for many years.
[1] In the diary of John Houston Bills, her father: “June 19, 1862. My daughter Eva Polk, accompanied by Jerome Hill, gets off for Nashville to meet her unfortunate husband. I furnished her $200 good funds for expenses.”
[2] Ibid. “August 30th (Sun) 1863. My dear Eva Polk gets home after an absence of fourteen months.”
[3] Ibid. “August 10, 1864. At 8 ½ PM Eva and Clara arrive at home to our great joy, having been absent 13 weeks, 2 days.”
[4] Ibid. “May 11, 1865. The War is over. God be praised.” May 12, 1865. Col. M.T. Polk returns after an absence of four years in this unprofitable war, in which this country has lost. Everything is laid in ruins. He says all is lost. May 17, 1865. We go to LaGrange where Col. M.T. Polk is paroled as a prisoner of war.”