A minister of the Calvinistic, or, as generally termed, “Hard-Shell” Baptist Church.
Elder Wollard, or “Uncle Natty,” as he was familiarly called, was an aged man, in his seventy-second year. He had lived a long time in Dallas County, Mo., where he was extensively known and very highly appreciated as a true man, a good neighbor, a kind father, an affectionate husband, a peaceable citizen and an acceptable minister—highly esteemed in love by his denomination for his character and work. He could not, nor did he desire to, take any part in the strifes, excitements and dangers of the war. He craved the boon of living at home unmolested, and spending the evening of his life in peace in the bosom of his family.
He had grown up in the olden times, and under the old regime, when men were outspoken, candid and fearless in the utterance of their sentiments; and, hence, be expressed himself in opposition to the “abolitionists,” as he called the Union men, and in sympathy with the South. He did not make himself officious or offensive in the expression of his Southern sympathies. He was not a secessionist per se, but a Southern man, deeply impressed with the conviction that the Northern fanatics intended to break up the Government and destroy the foundations of republican liberty. He honestly believed that the success of the South in the struggle would vindicate the wisdom of the fathers of the Republic, and establish firmly and forever the vital principles of civil and religious liberty for which “Washington fought and freemen died.”
The fact that he entertained such sentiments, however prudent and cautious in their utterance, “was sufficient to call forth the vengeful feelings and murderous purposes of the militia of this State.”
A detailed account of his murder has been furnished by one acquainted with all the facts, in the following language:
“The murder was committed on the evening of Sept. 1, 1863—that dark and bloody year. A cheerful fire had been made in his sitting room, and he was peacefully enjoying an evening with his family, all unconscious of the approach of danger—not dreaming that his peace would so soon be disturbed, or that his long life was so near its end. While thus in domestic tranquillity, and unconscious of danger, a squad of militia scouts rode up to the door, dismounted and walked in without any ceremony. They addressed the old man in a very rough manner, ordering him out of his house, as they wished to speak with him. Father Wollard told them that they could talk to him where he was; that he was not going to leave his house.
“The intention of the militia was evidently to get him out of his house, feign that he made an effort to escape, and shoot him. If this was their intention they were defeated by the fact that Father Wollard supposed that if he left the house, one or two men would guard him and his family while the rest of them would pillage and then burn the house.
“When they found that they could not get him out of the house, one of the militia raised his pistol and shot him, the ball taking effect in the face and inflicting a mortal wound. He was removed from the house into the yard and laid on a bed prepared for him, his head resting on the bosom of his heart-broken companion, while his son, a youth of sixteen, was wiping the blood from his face, and keeping it from his mouth, as it flowed so freely from the wound that he feared it would strangle his father. In the meantime, the militia had set the house on fire and committed everything they had to the flames.
“Having finished their work of destruction, one of them came to where the dying old man was lying, and, finding that he was not yet dead, shot him again, the ball taking effect in his forehead. He instantly expired.
“The only charge they made against him was that he fed ‘bushwhackers,’ which was not true. He had fed Southern and Federal soldiers alike when they came to his house, and some of these very men had been recently fed at his table who now turned upon him and brutally and barbarously murdered him.
“The men who committed this fatal and foul deed belonged to Capt. Morgan Kelly’s company of militia. They were never punished, but are now living in Dallas County undisturbed, except by an accusing conscience. Capt. Kelly himself professes to be a minister of the gospel, of the Christian, or Campbellite, Church, yet he seems to live in peace, with this and many other crimes staring him in the face.”
The heart sickens at such a recital of cold-blooded murder; and the evidence of savage, not to say inhuman, barbarity that characterized the horrible crime is sufficient to humiliate the whole race of men and send our much vaunted Christian civilization reeling back into the dark ages. The shadow on the dial of Ahaz went back ten degrees—it was a wonderful miracle—but here, in the noon of the nineteenth century, the shadow on the dial of human progress and Christian civilization has gone down forty degrees without a miracle, and reaches the grosser, the darker and the baser passions of our fallen nature, which instigate and then execute deeds of horror at which all Christendom revolts.
Nathaniel was my GGG Grandfather – Len Vest
Source – https://www.gutenberg.org/files/72683/72683-h/72683-h.htm