Vicissitudes of valor: The story of Col. Charles Morton

Orville Browning jotted in his diary for May 26, 1880, that it had been a “very warm morning and rained a little.”
He then penned: “Col. Charles Morton committed suicide this morning by shooting himself.” Fifteen years had passed since the Civil War had concluded, but for Charles H. Morton it finally ended that late May morning.
Charles H. Morton’s life began on Aug. 30, 1826, Halifax County, Mass. He was the second son born to Lloyd and Mercy Tillson Morton. In the following year, the family came to Hillsboro, joining Mercy’s brother, John Tillson, who at that time was one of Illinois’ most prominent and prosperous men. It was said that Tillson’s fortune was “the largest in the state.” In 1835, Charles’s family moved to Quincy where John Tillson had extensive business interests.
Charles was educated at the Hillsboro Academy, founded by Uncle John. He went on to study medicine under the tutelage of two Quincy physicians. But to further his medical studies, he attended lectures at Transylvania Medical College in Lexington, Ky., followed by a year at the St. Louis Medical School. Afterward, he practiced medicine in McDonough County and later Mount Pleasant, Iowa. Like thousands of others, he was swept up in Gold Rush of 1849 and in 1850 made the overland trip to California. Four years later, he returned to Quincy and partnered in a drug store. Effective Jan. 1, 1855, he became the sole proprietor.
In 1856, Charles entered into a lengthy engagement to Almira Jane Williams, daughter of Archibald Williams, “the most prominent attorney of his day in Quincy,” and a longtime political associate of Abraham Lincoln. On Nov. 27, 1860, Charles, now age 34, married the 22-year-old Almira.
The first year of the Civil War Charles Morton remained in Quincy with his new bride and his business interests. This changed on July 1, 1862, when the President called for 300,000 additional men to put down the rebellion.
Thirty-five-year-old Charles H. Morton responded and enlisted on Aug. 9, 1862. He was subsequently appointed major in the 84th Illinois Volunteer Infantry. The unit was formed and equipped in Quincy. While still in camp and learning the basics of military life, information arrived in Quincy that a band of rebel guerrillas were preparing to attack LaGrange, Mo. Col. Waters immediately dispatched Maj. Morton with 250 men to the rescue. The enemy evaporated and the force returned to Quincy to be mustered into federal service on Sept. 1, 1862. The 84th stayed in Quincy for another three weeks before being ordered to Louisville, Ky.
From Kentucky the regiment marched to Nashville, Tenn., and was part of the force being organized to do battle with rebels south of the city. Quincy resident and soldier Charles S. Nichols wrote the Whig on Nov. 29 saying: “The 84th Illinois, Col. Waters, arrived here a few days ago. They have had a hard time in Kentucky, and most of them are worn out. Major Charley Morton looks very hearty, and says he wants to stay until the war is over.”
By mid-December the amassed Union troops number 82,000 men. With December winding down the federals set out to fight the enemy, but at dawn on 31st, the rebels struck first. The three-day battle, known as Stones River or Murfreesboro, ended in a hard-fought Union victory. “Major Morton had two horses shot from under him during the fight, but he was not hurt, and is now well,” wrote his cousin, 20-year-old William H. Tillson and a private in the 84th. The regimental historian noted that, “Major Morton, too, was ever present, cool, calm and collected in the moments of greatest peril. He had one horse killed and one badly wounded under him ... and was slightly wounded in the left knee.”
In a letter to the Whig Republican dated July 30, 1863, an 84th soldier wrote: “Major Charley Morton, of our place, was promoted Lieut. Colonel. He is at present on Maj. Gen. Palmer’s staff as A. S. G. and Chief of Staff. He is a fine officer, and as brave as a lion.”
John M. Palmer from Carlinville had been an antislavery Jacksonian Democrat and chaired the Bloomington Convention when the Illinois Republican Party was formed. Being Archibald Williams’ son-in-law undoubtedly factored into Morton’s being named to Palmer’s staff. This appointment would, however, change his life forever.
The summer of 1863 saw Union troops in middle Tennessee on the march and successfully drove the rebels from the state, only to have the enemy counterattack in northern Georgia.
The ensuing two-day fight on Sept. 19-20 became known as the Battle of Chickamauga. It was a shattering defeat for the federals, and the fate of Lt. Col. Morton was unknown until the Whig Republican reported on Oct. 17 that he “was not killed ... as has been reported for some days, but was gobbled up alive by the secesh (secessionists), and is now in Libby prison. The news is bad enough, but much better than we have been led to hope. ...” The editor added: “We shall see our friend back again one of these days, and hating the secesh worse than ever.”
The Daily Whig printed a private letter from a fellow Quincy officer. He wrote: “Col. Morton, you will have seen from the papers, is a prisoner in Libby prison, unhurt. This is as I expected when I learned from Gen. Palmer where he had sent him, for I found, on inquiry, that every man that tried to pass the same place he went through was either captured or killed.” He further said: “Charley will feel much chagrined at being captured, but it is no fault of his —- his bravery and daring is undoubted. He only in this instance dared a little too much. ...”
On Feb. 10, 1864, Charles noted in a pocket memorandum book: “The history of our days is the history of the whole month in Libby and I have not kept a record for that reason, and also because the wearisome recurrence day after day” of the same routine.
He then wrote of his first four months in prison. “I have attended 120 morning roll calls, eaten and in part cooked 120 breakfasts — read (or heard read) the Richmond papers for 120 days ... walked from one end of the room to the other and back ... or going to some other room for a change of scenery, put myself through the same process several hours each day. ... Attended afternoon roll call for 120 days. Eaten and part cooked supper for 120 days and made my bed on the floor and rolled myself in the blankets for 120 nights.”
After six months in Libby Prison, Lt. Col. Charles H. Morton was exchanged on March 14, 1864. Mentally and physically, he was a broken man. He returned to the Army and for a short time commanded the 84th. But, it was soon apparent that he was not “a fit man to command a Regiment.” A fellow officer recalled that his “mind was not quite well balanced.”
With the war’s end and his discharge, Morton returned to Quincy where he was twice elected county clerk. In 1874, he was voted to a four-year term as Quincy Police Magistrate.
The final two years of his life, Morton was involved in a real estate business. But as his health deteriorated so did his business. The signs of a troubled soul were evident, but nonetheless his suicide stunned the community.
The Whig’s words said it best. “The startling announcement made Wednesday morning, that Col. Charles Morton had taken his own life, created a profound sensation throughout the city; not only by reason of the unexpectedness of the event, but by reason, also, of the high personal esteem in which Col. Morton was held by the whole community. No man in any community ever had more friends or fewer enemies.”
In March 1890, after a decade of appeals, the Commissioner of Pensions awarded Almira Morton a widow’s benefit. He wrote: “I believe, from the evidence presented ... that the late soldier did incur in Libby Prison the disease which, though of gradual, often imperceptible, but of certain growth, finally wrecked his mental powers, culminating in the tragedy in which he took his own life.”
But for those who had known Morton, his suicide was difficult to accept, leading a former 84th soldier to write: “Quincy had a galaxy of brave, good officers ... but none were more brave or more capable than Col. Morton, and in losing him, Quincy has lost one whose place will be hard to fill.”
Phil Reyburn is a retired field representative for the Social Security Administration. He authored “Clear the Track: A History of the Eighty-Ninth Illinois Volunteer Infantry, The Railroad Regiment” and co-edited “Jottings from Dixie: The Civil War Dispatches of Sergeant Major Stephen F. Fleharty, U.S.A.”





