Colonel Charles Williams Hunter (1783-1859)
Soldier; Abolitionist; Merchant; Real Estate Developer; Candidate for Illinois Governor, 1844
Charles Williams Hunter, like so many of the early abolitionists,
sleeps with his fathers. His name, though historic, will, even at
this comparatively recent period, awaken little in the minds of the
present generation, save that the noble band of patriots - the
Liberty Party of Illinois, who selected him as their
standard-bearer, their candidate for Governor in the campaign of
1844. He was not an editor, that his thoughts should have been
broadcast over the land, and himself a personal memory in every
household. He was not a statesman in official position, where his
acts should be widespread as the land in which he lived. He was,
during all the late years of his life, a private citizen. A man of
“property and standing,” as the phrase current in those days has it;
but, unhappily for these self-complacent men of “property and
standing,” distinguished from them by love of universal justice. A
prompt sacrifice of time, of effort, of money; a certain
renunciation of personal popularity and social consideration – and
it might more than possibly be, the devotion of life itself – all
these were involved in the position which he took, that Right might
triumph and his country be redeemed. In a community slave-holding in
its sympathies, with the ties of early companionships and
friendships binding him to slave-holders, he burst all bonds, and
not fitfully or spasmodically, but with one continued earnest effort
of self-devotion, labored on to the end.
His Parents
“C. W. Hunter,” as he always wrote his name, was the son of Robert
and Anne Williams Hunter. Williams, his mother's maiden name, was
given to Charles as his middle name. Robert Hunter came of a family of
some wealth in Ireland, and was of Scotch-Irish descent. The exact
time Robert Hunter came to America cannot be given, but he was an
officer in the Revolutionary War. His commission is from “The United
States of America in Congress assembled,” and runs to “Robert
Hunter, Gentleman.”
That great struggle was not without its relaxations, and Robert met
his future wife at a ball in a country village near Elizabethtown,
New Jersey, she being a resident of that city. The sprightliness and
grace of the young lady did what the British Army combined could not
do - conquer the heart of the young Federal officer. After a
courtship in no sense tedious, on February 9, 1782, the two were
married. The year following, Robert's regiment lay in Kentucky, where his
wife accompanied him, and on December 22, 1783, Charles Williams Hunter
was born, thus a native of Kentucky. A daughter, Elizabeth Hunter,
died at the age of one year. Charles was not yet 12 years old, when
his father’s lamented death left him to the sole care of his mother.
Subsequently, she married an officer by the name of Webster, but
this union was without offspring, and Charles grew up an only child.
Mrs. Webster is represented to have been a woman of much force of
character, and one that inspired great reverence in the minds of the
young. The character of the son makes such facts presumable, but
little information of this period is now at command.
Appointment to Captain and Colonel
Charles Hunter was appointed to a Captaincy by President James
Madison during the War of 1812 [Under Brigadier General John
Cadwalader’s Pennsylvania Militia. Cadwalader was described by
George Washington as a “military genius”]. Hunter’s commission
bears the date of July 6, 1812. Previous to this, but at what exact time
cannot be stated, he married, for we find his wife was with him when
he joined his command at Plattsburg. He served with distinction
through the war; was promoted to the rank of Colonel for gallantry;
held a position on General Harrison’s staff; and remained greatly
attached to that General through life.
Mercantile Business in St. Louis and Alton
After the war of 1812, in about 1817, in connection with Colonel
Clemens, he went into mercantile business in St. Louis, Missouri.
They were personal friends and brother officers in the same war.
Each bore the title of Colonel. This, in the transaction of
business, sometimes brought about little mistakes, so to avoid
confusion, he being the younger man, Colonel Hunter proposed
henceforth to be addressed as Major. From that time, he was always
known as Major Hunter. In 1819, he removed to Illinois, establishing
himself in that part of Alton known to this day as “Hunter’s Town,”
or “Hunterstown,” and continued in mercantile business. In 1822, it
was announced in the Edwardsville Spectator, July 13, 1822, that
Major Hunter of Alton was a candidate for the office of Major
General of the First Division of Illinois Militia.
Major Hunter’s Family
Major Hunter had a good house, with the comforts and conveniences of
older States, but this did not exempt the family from the miasmatic
fevers of a new country, and in common with others, they were
prostrated with sickness. To the great grief and irreparable loss of
her husband, Mrs. Martha Hunter died – died in the first year of
their residence in Illinois, more than fifty years ago [Martha
Hunter died in Alton in October 1819]. But I have met with some who
knew her, and who speak in high terms of her vigorous intellect,
fine person, and lady-like manners. Her maiden name was Martha
Maldrom, and she resided in Somerville, New Jersey. Major Hunter was
thus left alone. No, not alone, for three motherless children clung
around him, their only parent. The eldest, Bloomfield Hunter, was
named after a close friend, New Jersey
Governor Joseph Bloomfield. Bloomfield Hunter died at the age of
15 years. The second son, Hampden Hunter, was named by his
grandmother Hunter, as she had a most justifiable pride in her
remote ancestor, the cousin of Oliver Cromwell, staunch Englishman,
John Hampden (1595-1643). The coat of arms is still in the family.
This son grew to manhood and married, but died before his father, in
1854. Hampden’s widow and children were not long ago, and are
probably still, residing in Jacksonville, Illinois.
Major Hunter’s only daughter, Sarah Ann Hunter, married a prominent
merchant of Alton, Robert Debow. They, their children, and
grandchildren, now reside in that city. The present writer first
became acquainted with Major Hunter in December 1834. He was then
living in a second house of his own building, and many will remember
the comparative elegance of that home; the open hospitality of the
owner; and his beautiful daughter, the universally beloved Sarah
Hunter. [Notes: Robert Debow and Sarah Ann Hunter married on October
6, 1835, in Madison County, Illinois. They had the following known
children: Bloomfield H. Debow, who died of whooping cough as an
infant in July 1844; Lucy A. Debow, who died in February 1879;
Colonel Samuel Debow of Chicago, who died in 1888; and Mrs. Mary
Debow Glass, who married A. C. Glass, M.D. Sarah Hunter Debow died
in October 1876, and her husband, Robert, died in 1877.]
The Slavery Question
At this time, slavery had excited no particular attention at Alton.
I do not know the fact, but the probabilities are that the Major was
a Colonizationist. Strange as it may seem, most persons opposed to
slavery at this period anchored their hopes in that Society. The
slaves seemed so reckless, shiftless, and utterly incapable, that
men did not see what could be done with them, but regarded
colonization, if not as a panacea, still as a project that might
keep the popular mind from going wholly to sleep over the subject.
Not much was said in conversation of the matter, but there were
those who considered slavery a sin, and some few who thought all
countenance given to slavery sinful. A few could not be induced to
employ slave labor.
A little incident, somewhat illustrative, occurred soon after my
coming to Alton. Slaves, whose owners lived in Missouri, often hired
out here. A lady employed a colored woman for a day’s washing. At
its close, she paid her price, which was to go to her mistress in
St. Louis. The lady did not feel wholly at case about it, and made a
present of 25 cents to the girl for her own benefit. Her husband
came home, and learning that slave labor had been employed in his
family, the matter was quite thoroughly discussed. The conclusion
reached was that all employment of slaves gave comfort to slavery,
and that henceforth, at whatever inconvenience, they would forego
slave labor. This state of feeling was far from being general, but
existed with some who thought Garrison a crazy man, or at least had
heard he was such. Mr. Lovejoy himself, at this period, was groping
in the dark. In 1836, the Observer was established at Alton, and of
those who took ground in support of that paper, as it steadily
advanced in its opposition to slavery, Major Hunter was always in
the front rank.
The Anti-Slavery Convention in Upper Alton, Illinois
In the Fall of 1837, after Lovejoy’s press had been destroyed three
times, a recital of which will not here be given, “a convention of
persons favorable to immediate emancipation” was called to meet in
Upper Alton. There were nearly 260 names from different parts of
Illinois appended to the call. Twenty-three of these were from
Alton, and Charles W. Hunter was first on the list. The convention
met, a body of men unrivaled in intelligence, personal worth, and
weight of character. It consisted of more than eighty delegates.
They occupied the Presbyterian Church, a new and commodious building
[at the northwest corner of College Avenue and Clawson Street].
Their proceedings were broken up the first day by the riotous
conduct of men combined for that purpose, and receiving a note from
the Trustees of the church, who were impelled by fear that their
building would be destroyed, requesting them not to reassemble
there, they met the next morning in a private dwelling [they met at
the Rock House, home of Rev. Thaddeus B. Hurlbut, at the southeast
corner of College Avenue and Clawson Street; the building still
stands]. After discussing the matter for some time, the convention
decided that it was expedient to form a State Anti-Slavery Society.
This had not in the first instance been contemplated. As the
circumstances under which this State Anti-Slavery Society was formed
have never, within my knowledge, been given to the public.
Some particulars may not here be amiss. When it was ascertained that
the Convention had met at the home of the Rev. Thaddeus Beman
Hurlbut, the mob of the previous day repaired there, armed with
bowie knives, sword canes, and pistols. Usher F. Linder, Illinois
State’s Attorney, was at its head. They filled the yard. They
besieged the door. Their faces pressed against the windowpanes, Mr.
Hurlbut went out and asked “the gentlemen” what it was they wished?
Linder replied, “We wish to go in.” Mr. Hurlbut answered, “You
cannot go in unless you break in.” Linder, in a most excited manner,
said, “We will break your damned head.” “Very well,” said Mr.
Hurlbut, “You can do so if you choose, but you cannot go in.” The
mob continued threatening, those within the house calmly proceeding
with business.
In the meantime, gentlemen of Upper Alton, neighbors and friends of
the besieged household, gathered round at no great distance to watch
results; and, as the mob truly interpreted, to prevent their
violence. It was then proposed by someone of the assailants that
they adjourn to a brick schoolhouse not far distant. There they
went, and debated whether they should break down the doors and force
an entrance into the house. Linder was questioned as to the law. He
read it to them, that “A man’s house is his castle, etc.” Still,
there was a strong determination to break in. Someone in the closely
packed schoolhouse, amid the confusion (it was never known whom)
arrested their attention by the statement, “There are sixty armed
men in the house.” This seemed to put a new phase on affairs. Their
zeal began to cool, and in the end, they closed proceedings by
passing a vote that “A certain stone house in Upper Alton should be
torn down.” As to these “armed men,” no one ever knew whether it was
friend or foe that gave the information, but most probably a friend,
though like the famed Falstaff, no one save himself ever saw these
“armed men.”
To follow out this story of “a certain stone house,” the owner who
rented it to Mr. Hurlbut, with the understanding that he should
occupy it as long as he should wish, and who was personally friendly
to Mr. Hurlbut, nevertheless requested him to vacate it, wishing, as
he stated, to occupy it himself. On inquiry, no vacant house could
be found, so Mr. Hurlbut fitted up to some extent a log cabin that
stood on his own premises, and where their child of 3 years would
amuse herself, as she lay at night looking through the crevices of
the roof, with repeating, “Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I
wonder what you are, etc.” The door was never fastened. There was no
weapon of defense about the dwelling. It could have been pulled down
with fish hooks. But, save threats and some brickbats, it remained
unmolested.
This entire abandonment of self-defense was no renunciation of the
principle, it was simply accepting the situation of helplessness as
it existed under the Divine providence.
To return to our Society, the officers elected were Elihu Wolcott of
Jacksonville, President. The Vice-Presidents were the Rev. Hubbell
Loomis, Upper Alton; H. H. Snow, Quincy; Thomas Gait, Sangamon
County; and Aaron Russell, of Peoria. The Board of Managers
consisted of twelve names – Charles W. Hunter being the second name.
The Executive Committee were all residents of Alton, and consisted
of the Rev. Elijah P. Lovejoy, the Rev. Thaddeus B. Hurlbut, the
Rev. Hubbell Loomis, Charles W. Hunter, and Julius A. Willard.
In looking over the names that constitute this first State
Anti-Slavery Society, it is a matter of surprise that so many of
them were clergymen. It will be noticed that the majority of the
Executive Committee were ministers. And it may not be amiss here to
affirm that whatever may have been true elsewhere, in Illinois, the
church was not the bulwark of slavery.
The Underground Railroad
As to aiding slaves in their attempt to escape, when that attempt
was fairly undertaken by themselves, there existed little difference
of opinion among Anti-Slavery men. Indeed, the best of Whigs or
Democrats either, could hardly be trusted if a flying fugitive was
thrown directly in his path – to the honor of human nature be it
spoken. There are Abolitionists in this State [Illinois] who will
remember the incident concerning two little girls whom their mother
succeeded in taking safely from St. Louis to a little town in
LaSalle County. They rested a day or two in the village, and spent
an evening at the house of a certain judge. As the children were
very sprightly, they were taken from the kitchen into the parlor,
and performed their little antics greatly to the entertainment of
the expounder of the law. They went on their way. But the very next
week, they were taken back through the same town, hunted, captured
fugitives. When the august Judge heard the fact, he wept like a
child. Strange to relate, the Democrat Party has to bear the
disgrace of those tears to this day. The church, too, so often
declared favorable to slavery, if broken up into individuals, would
play the Fugitive-Slave law most falsely.
In a certain locality in this State, there was a gathering of the
whole prairie around for a temperance meeting. Among the speakers
were two young clergymen from the county seat, both of them
talented, both good men, and intent on usefulness. Neither of them,
for any consideration, would have thrown away their power of doing
good by allowing the faintest smell of Abolition in their garments.
They passed the night at a house which had the reputation of being
in close proximity to the Underground Railroad. Conversation turned
upon that subject, and the Methodist minister inquired of his
hostess if she had ever seen any of the fugitives? It was getting
late in the evening, perhaps 11 o’clock. The moon was at its full.
The sound of a heavy, two-horse wagon was nearing the timber, and
drove up to a neighboring house. She replied, “I think a train has
come in.” Both ministers rushed out, and soon came back, ushering in
all the passengers, shaking hands, laughing, and shouting as though
they had been at a camp-meeting – the Congregationalist quite as
rapturously as the Methodist minister. They seated them round the
fire; they piled on wood; and it was not until some time had elapsed
that the young divines learned that they had not taken the
passengers into the right depot. Another little circumstance I will
mention in connection with this station. Some persons had been
indicted. More had been threatened, when this same two-horse wagon
came in, freighted in the usual way, but driven by a young lady. She
came, so she said, to learn the way, that when the men were all in
jail, she might run the train. This, of course, was far north of
Alton, but at that point, had the passengers taken the cars, they
would have been arrested. Thus, no genuine Anti-Slavery man could
withhold the cup of cold water from him already on his way, although
there was a diversity of opinion as to the propriety or expediency
of recommending flight to a slave. Those living in the slave States,
or on their borders, were on terms of social intercourse with the
more humane masters. They felt it a violation of the social compact
to “tamper” as the phrase went, with their servants. They regarded
it as dishonorable.
A large class was in doubt whether the average slave would find
himself happier, an escaped fugitive, with all the ills that
condition embraced; separation from kindred, uncertain means of
livelihood, entire ignorance of a freeman’s life, and more than all,
the risk of recapture with its fearful consequences. This class was
in doubt, I say, whether, save in extreme cases of cruelty, it was
wise to make the attempt. And it was not often, save where to be
sold down the river was the alternative, that the slave thought
differently himself. Then again, they thought the drain not
sufficient to make any marked impression on slavery itself, and that
the subject was to be regarded simply as bearing on individuals.
Others thought liberty worth dying for, and were ready to counsel
escape under all circumstances, and were equally ready to seal with
their blood the counsel they had given.
Before going farther, it may be well to mention Major Hunter’s
regard for law. He believed it a solemn obligation, binding on all,
to honor the laws of their country. His views in this respect many
may regard as extreme. To a prominent editor in this State, he once
declared “That should he offer him a $1 bill on a bank out of the
State, he would prosecute him.” A statute existed at that time
prohibiting their circulation. Laws not opposed to God’s law he held
sacred. Laws requiring him to violate God’s law, he would not obey,
but quietly submit to the penalty. Providence cast his lot in Alton.
Alton was the great starting-point of the North Star Line [of the
Underground Railroad]. Major Hunter held the stock, the pecuniary
risks were his. Or, to speak without the figure then so much in
vogue, while others sustained equal or greater personal risks, the
means necessary were furnished by him. If a friend of the slave
tapped on the Major’s window (his sleeping room was on the ground
floor), he received such assistance as was required. A covered
two-horse wagon was always ready at the shortest notice, or if a
single horse was wanted, the Major’s own fine horse could do duty. I
remember his pleasantly telling me the distress his groom was in one
morning at finding his charger “all wet, yer honor, with sweat, and
trembling from head to foot, and for sure he’s sick, yer Honor.”
An incident of the wagon at this moment occurs to me. Two slaves
were aboard, a colored friend driving. Two men on horseback were in
pursuit. All the horses were fine mettled animals, and the chase was
fearful. The pursuers were getting quite too near. The wagon came
into a strip of timber. There was a sudden turn in the road, the
slaves, unperceived, leaped into the bushes, and the wagon still
drove furiously on. On and on it went for miles, the pursuers
sometimes near enough to discharge their pistols into it. They
approached Macoupin Creek, when the driver turned into the bushes,
leaped from his wagon, and escaped unhurt. The pursuers came up, but
save a few bullet holes in its top, the wagon contained no proof of
having aided in the escape of slaves. The pursuers went on a few
miles to Chesterfield, but they learned nothing more.
A case unlike any other that ever occurred at this point, I will
mention. A man by the name of John Denson called on an elder in the
Presbyterian Church, who had known him sometime previous, as a
member of Dr. Nelson’s Mission School, the same school that
contained Works and Thompson. He recalled himself to the Elder’s
memory, expressed great feeling in regard to slavery, and finally
stated that a woman with her child was wishing to escape to her
husband, now in Canada, and he had engaged to aid her, and had come
to Alton to know how it could be best accomplished. The Elder
introduced him to a prominent, well-known Anti-Slavery man (we’ll
call him Mr. Doe). Benson stopped to breakfast. He restated the
subject of his coming, and the facts suggested a case to the host in
which he had felt a great interest for months.
A young man from St. Charles, Missouri, escaped to Canada. He
learned to both read and write, and in eleven months returned to St.
Charles, thrusting his head into the lion’s mouth in the vain hope
of rescuing his wife. He was detected, and obliged to escape without
her even knowing that he was there. In this gentleman’s family he
led in prayer. His anguish seemed unutterable. Mr. Doe and his
family became deeply interested in Richard, and told him if he would
write to his wife, Maria, should any opportunity offer, they would
get the letter to its destination. The letter seemed so wonderful an
effort, that a copy was taken, but unfortunately has since been
lost. He proved it to be written by himself by telling her the place
and time of their marriage, the name and age of their child, and
recalled conversations between themselves which could not have been
overheard. He described her clothing, a ring he had given her, and
their last parting when she fainted in his arms. He accompanied the
letter by a vest which he wore at their wedding, and begged her not
to doubt, but to know it was her own husband that addressed her, and
urged her coming to him. This seemed the very opportunity to send
the letter and vest, which Benson offered to take, saying that if
the young wife wished to go North, she could accompany the persons
already in his charge. He was introduced to Major Hunter, and the
latter, whose provident care often extended quite a distance,
engaged to see to their safety. A particular time was agreed upon
when Benson was to bring them to Alton. They did not come at that
time. An article appeared in a St. Louis paper, some statements of
which Mr. Doe considered must have come from Benson. He consulted
with Major Hunter. The colored people placed full confidence in the
man. But, while they were talking of him, Benson came up. Major
Hunter and Mr. Doe told him their suspicions. They were at once
convinced they were right, and Major Hunter gave him his opinion
with such characteristic directness, that Benson was very glad to
leave. It appeared that this same fellow had been operating at
different points for some time, playing the double game of receiving
money from the slaves for getting them away, and money from their
masters by recovering their lost slaves. Whether Richard and Maria
have ever met, is not known, but since emancipation, many strange
reunions have taken place, and his prayers may have been answered in
a way he did not propose.
The Liberty Party
The Liberty Part of Illinois, as of the other States, was largely
drawn from the Whig ranks. No one who has not experienced it can
well conceive what it costs a true man to forswear his party
affiliation, to forsake those with whom he has long struggled, whose
victories and defeats he has alike shared, and whose leaders have
been, like the chieftain to his clan, objects of almost idolatrous
regard. With what pain did many a heart turn from Henry Clay. I
remember well hearing Major Hunter say that one of the hardest
things he ever brought himself to do was to vote against William
Henry Harrison, his old General and warm, personal friend. But what
else could he do? What could any man looking at the subject from his
standpoint do? The great question that, in the eyes of the
Abolitionists, dwarfed all others, the question of human rights was
always in the end ignored or compromised by both political parties,
and his duty to those in bonds, to his country, and to his God would
admit of no alternative. Thus, he broke loose from all existing
parties.
Nominated for Governor
Major Hunter was nominated as the Liberty Party candidate for
Governor in 1844. It has recently been stated that the nomination of
Major Hunter defeated the Whig candidate for Governor, and decided
the victory which the Democrats obtained. This may or may not be a
mistake. But it has never been disputed that in a previous campaign,
the large defection of Anti-Slavery Whigs changed the result of the
Presidential election [Democrat candidate James K. Polk won the
Presidency]. The Hon. Frederic Collins was candidate for
Lieutenant-Governor on the same ticket with Major Hunter. One
received rather more than 1,000 votes; the other somewhat less. The
number of votes polled seems inconsiderable, but every one told.
There was not a vote that did not represent earnest, firm
conviction. No ring made the nominations. No political intrigues
bargained or sold. And when the votes were polled, no whisky
sustained the effort. It was a small party, but it was strong for
the right. God grant that its mantle may fall on 1,000 of this
generation.
Personal Characteristics of Major Hunter
In forming an estimate of Major Hunter, the homely adage will force
itself upon his friends, that “some never get as good as they
deserve,” in general and just appreciation, at least. A bland,
courteous manner; a wily yielding to prejudice with an apparent
deferential regard to others, which often veils supreme
self-seeking, will verify the truth of that Scripture, “Men will
praise then when thou doest well for thyself.” Even fulsome eulogy
may be lavished on a public defaulter, and the county record be
blackened with a great lie, as was recently the case in a portion of
this State, nevertheless in the end, “the memory of the wicked shall
rot.” It may be deemed charitable, it may be deemed magnanimous,
that a man’s faults be interred with his bones, but in such case,
let Mother Earth fill up the grave in silence. We write of the dead
for the benefit of the living.
Major Hunter was of a warm temper and perfectly transparent nature.
His convictions were strong, and were expressed without saying, “By
your leave, sir.” His principles, the outgrowth of his convictions,
were as firm as though the blood of Hampden, his maternal ancestor,
had overleaped the centuries and circulated freshly in his veins.
Espousing a proscribed cause, the champion of a despised race, his
social ties all drawing in other directions, and his social status,
his life-long, being one with the slaveholder, he separated himself
from the moneyed class, and encountered the bitterness, the
misrepresentation, I will not add scorn, for no man could scorn
Major Hunter, which were so liberally heaped upon him. But Major
Hunter could do justice to an opponent, and it cost him no effort to
forgive his enemies. His affections, family ties, or blood
relationship never seemed to warp his judgment. The writer of this
article once urged upon him a particular measure with all the force
and persistence at command. Major Hunter replied, “I will accept
more from you than from any person living, but that can never be.”
His Straight-Forward Integrity
Major Hunter’s straight-forward integrity won a latent regard in the
hearts of honorable opponents. I recall at this moment, an instance
where an antagonist, who had been for years untiring and hitherto
successful, was at last defeated, and walking up to Major Hunter,
gave his hand a hearty shake, saying, “I congratulate you. It is a
victory you deserve.” The stern virtues were not his only ones. I
have seen him at the bedside of the sick, on a hot summer day,
quenching the thirst of fever with lemonade he had provided and
prepared with his own hands, and fanning the burning brow with the
most tender kindness.
His Religious Character
Of His religious character, distinctively as such, I have hitherto
said nothing. In 1834, when my acquaintance with Major Hunter
commenced, he was not considered, nor did he consider himself, a
Christian. He was punctual in attendance on public worship, and a
most staunch supporter of temperance. Born in the army, bred under
its influences, himself in early manhood an integral part, it is not
strange that his early life should not have been governed by the
strict code that marked his later years. His temperance views were
the result of the reflections of later life, and his religious
character continued to develop and mature through the whole of my
personal acquaintance. I cannot give the date of his first
connection with the church, nor of his subsequent election to its
eldership. But I can seem to see him now, after an attack of his
hereditary disease, real English gout, as soon as he could leave his
room, with his bandaged feet resting on stirrups, riding to church,
that he might fill his accustomed place. It was from the Major’s
early life that his decided military bearing took its rise, and to
this same cause, doubtless, was owing a manner which sensitive
natures interpreted as imperious.
Charities
Of the Major’s constant and various charities, no exact record can
now be given. To Shurtleff College he gave what at the time was
considered $5,000 or more. To another college he gave about the same
time an equal amount, I think, but I state this only from memory. He
gave a town lot to the Genius of Liberty. I do not know for what it
sold. Another lot he gave to the Western Citizen sold for $400. Its
editor now wears a watch, the memento of Major Hunter, which he
bought with part of the avails. He also bequeathed to the Western
Book and Tract Society and to the American Missionary Association,
$9,750, with four hundred acres of land in Missouri, to be equally
divided between them.
A Second Marriage
In 1852, Major Hunter was married to the interesting widow [Elmira
Waring Leggett] of the lamented William Leggett, who survived him
three years. The ceremony took place at the residence of Mr. Stagg
in St. Louis, where Mrs. Leggett often made her home. Many will
recognize Mr. Stagg as the friend and early patron of Miss Hosmer.
Major and Mrs. Hunter were proceeding in a quiet way to their home
in Alton, when a circumstance quite unique transpired. It will be
remembered that Major Hunter had been a widower many years. His
marriage was by no means anticipated. St. Louis was always on the
alert for runaways, and the bride had the surprise of being herself
challenged as a fugitive slave, and seeing her husband arrested for
aiding in her escape. Mrs. Hunter afterwards pleasantly remarked
that, “though she had always thought herself a decided brunette, she
never knew before that she was a negro.”
Major Hunter’s Death
Early in 1850, the Major’s health visibly failed. No physician gave
him any relief. His constitutional malady, the gout, had seized upon
his stomach, and he continued to sink. His mind continued
unimpaired. March 31, 1859, was a clear, sunshiny, delightful day.
The Major remarked, “This is a beautiful day in which to die.” On
that beautiful day, his spirit took its flight. His funeral was
attended at the Presbyterian Church in Alton. The sermon was
preached by the pastor, the Rev. C. H. Taylor, and his text, so
peculiarly appropriate, was from Second Corinthians, 6:9: “As
unknown, yet well known.” A volume could hardly have expressed more.
The final tribute of respect was paid by assembled friends and
neighbors, but of all the multitude gathered in that house, none
felt the loss more than one who hardly dared venture in. He was a
colored man who had acquired wealth and an irreproachable character.
As he came to the crowded church, the only one of his race, one and
another made way, and the only vacant place found was assigned him,
a seat with the choir. There he witnessed the obsequies of the man
who had done so much and suffered so much for himself and his
people. In the cemetery were gathered the colored people of the
whole surrounding country. They knew the man. His record is on high.
Its pages will more correctly read with every passing year, and each
coming generation shall more clearly apprehend their import.
*******
ADDITIONAL NOTES:
Charles Williams Hunter was born December 22, 1783, in Kentucky. He
was the son of Robert and Anne (Williams) Hunter.
After purchasing land in Alton, Madison County, Illinois, he
founded Hunterstown (east of Henry Street). He erected Hunter’s
Tavern in about 1819, which was located at the northwest corner of
Broadway and Central Avenue. This tavern served as his home and a stopping place
for travelers, and was later used by the Sisters of Charity for a
hospital. Hunter’s Spring, located at the northeast corner of
Broadway and Spring Street in Alton, is named after Major Hunter.
Hunter donated land to Alton for a cemetery, and his first wife, Martha
Maldrom Hunter, may have been the first to be buried there in about
1819. This cemetery later became the Alton City Cemetery. Later, the
heirs of Major Hunter donated a second burial plot for Rev. Elijah
P. Lovejoy, who was killed by a mob for his abolitionist views.
In 1838, Major Hunter was chairman of a committee during the
planning stages of the Alton and Springfield Railroad (later the
Chicago & Alton Railroad). In September 1839, Major Hunter and Mr.
Hurlbert erected an iron foundry and machine shop in Alton.
Major Hunter died March 31, 1859, in Alton, and is buried in the
Alton City Cemetery. His second wife, Elmira Leggett Hunter, died in
Alton on March 31, 1862. She is buried beside her first husband,
William Leggett, in New Rochelle, New York. William Leggett was a
poet, fiction writer, and journalist.
**********
Joseph Bloomfield studied law, was
admitted to the bar in 1775 and began his law practice in Bridgeton,
New Jersey. He entered the Continental Army as captain of the 3rd
New Jersey Regiment on February 9, 1776. He attained the rank of
major on November 28, 1776, and was appointed judge advocate of the
northern army. He was wounded at the Battle of Brandywine in
September 1777. He resigned from the Continental Army on October 28,
1778, after he was elected clerk of the New Jersey General Assembly.
Source: Chicago Daily Tribune, June 18, 1874; pg. 3