Admiral Farragut
IN the spring of 1861 Admiral Farragut had already known an unusually long naval life. More than fifty years of sea-going had given him a large and varied experience ; and as much of that experience had been gained in revolutionary countries, he looked with gravest apprehension upon the impending civil war. When Virginia, his adopted State, was dragooned, as he maintained, into secession, and his loyalty to the Union made his presence unwelcome, he fired this parting shot: “ Take my word for it, you fellows will catch the devil before you get through with this business.”
The summary of his life, too little known by his countrymen, is as follows:
David Glasgow Farragut was born near Knoxville, Tennessee, July 5, 1801, A midshipman at the early age of nine, at twelve he was put in charge of a prize. He had the unique experience of “ a sea fight far away ” in the harbor at Valparaiso when thirteen. The stirring scenes of this fight between the Essex and the Phœbe, the smell of powder, the wounded and dead, the manœuvring, the thunder bursts of cannon, the excitement and din, and the surrender gave to him that insight into actual warfare which was invaluable in later years. Even then he gave promise, by actual performance, of future success; and while “too young for promotion,” as his commanding officer said, he was old enough to profit by the occasion. Thereupon began the usual life of alternate sea and shore duty. After years of service in the Mediterranean, he was made lieutenant at eighteen. At twentytwo an executive officer in the West Indies, he fought the pirates, and obtained a small command which afforded him large experience, the command of the Ferret. At twenty-four commissioned lieutenant, he conveyed Lafayette to France in the Pennsylvania. A variety of service intervening, in 1833 he was ordered to Charleston, South Carolina, on account of the nullification outbreak, an incident which doubtless strengthened his Union sentiment. When thirty-three years of age he was given command again, and took the Boxer to Brazil. At forty he was executive officer of the Delaware, a duty of exceptional value to him, and was commissioned commander. The next year he sailed for South America in charge of the Decatur. When forty-six he commanded the Saratoga, and sailed for the Gulf of Mexico, where he was grievously disappointed that he was not furnished an opportunity to distinguish himself in the war with Mexico, then going on. He returned to study, and compiled a book of ordnance regulations. He established the Mare Island Navy Yard in 1854, and showed excellent judgment in his relations with the Vigilance Committee. At fifty-four he was commissioned captain, given command of the Brooklyn, and sailed for Mexico with Minister McLane. He then took an exploring party to Chiriqui, and finally was awaiting orders in 1861.
During war, biographies are written in battles, not in books. A single engagement is an epitome of military character. In the conflict the man is no other than the years have made him. In the action his past culminates ; what he has been tells us what he is. The drawing and color of the portrait depend largely upon event and circumstance, but in a greater degree than is often thought upon the personal influences which have made impact upon the developing life.
Farragut was born in a naval atmosphere. His father and his elder brother were both officers in the navy. On his entrance into the service, aboard the Essex, he was taught all the mysteries of the craft by Jack Covington, of Marblehead, whose “ chicken ” he was. Commodore David Porter, who commanded the Essex in 1812, was through life his kind and faithful Mentor. A unique charm of manner won the affection of those with whom he was associated. When a lad of eighteen, it secured him the favorable notice of the chaplain of the ship, Charles Folsom, who, having been appointed consul at Tunis, succeeded in obtaining for him leave of absence to live and study with him, — an unusual opportunity, resulting in a lifelong friendship. The wise and loving interest of this master under whom he studied, of which too much cannot be said, set the seal to his life and character.
Farragut entered the service when men who had seen Nelson were still alive, and he knew every battle of that mighty hero until he died at Trafalgar. With all a boy’s enthusiasm he took part in the war of 1812, and brought down through the years an invaluable experience of seamanship, battle, and knowledge of human nature. He had made it a rule of his life, he said, “ to make note of things with a view to the possible future,” and thus it came about that not only his experience stood him in good stead, but fortune, which loves coincidences, took care to connect his future with his past. Secretary Welles, when chief of the Naval Bureau of Provisions and Clothing, during the Mexican war, was in the office of the Secretary of the Navy, John Y. Mason, when Farragut was laying before the secretary a plan to take the castle of San Juan de Ulloa. “ I was present when he stated and urged his plan,” said Welles. “ It was characterized by the earnest, brave, and resolute daring which at a later day was distinctly brought out in our great civil conflict. Secretary Mason heard him patiently, but dismissed his project as visionary and impracticable.” The commander who pleaded with the secretary for a chance gained it, years afterwards, at the hands of the wise and patriotic man who stood silently by and made mental note of the occurrence. The possible future came. The opportunity of San Juan de Ulloa was given to him on a greater scale at New Orleans.
The naval profession is undergoing now a rapid process of change from the art stage, which required the old-fashioned handicraft, to the scientific stage, which abolishes thumb rules, and requires seamen to put their trust in mathematics and machinery. The art of seamanship was long in the learning. It appealed most to certain natures. He succeeded best who had in his blood a honing for the sea. Farragut had mixed his blood with the sunshine of many lands, had taken the winds into his pulses. He felt a ship under him as a good rider feels his horse. A keen joy came to him in battling with the elements. It was characteristic of his conservatism that his trust in wooden walls never was completely shaken. He had small faith in the sea-going qualities of the ironclads. “ Give me hearts of iron in ships of oak.” he said.
Like his predecessors, Farragut held to the line of battle, deviating from it as circumstances demanded according to the most improved methods ; but to him the naval historian must give the credit of first making known — an unprecedented feat, in naval warfare — the possibility of passing in a difficult channel well-fortified intrenchments, and successfully encountering ironclad vessels with wooden ships. The passage of the forts below New Orleans was a task to appall the stoutest heart. To stem the swift current of the Mississippi; to carry his ships through channels blocked by huge rafts and chains; to withstand the murderous fire of a fort on either hand; to avoid fire-rafts sent down for his destruction ; to encounter thereafter ironclad monsters lying in wait, before he might anchor at the city’s front, — all this he attempted and accomplished, during the darkness of the night, amid such a scene of titanic warfare as the world had never witnessed.
A yet more difficult task awaited him at Mobile Bay. The attack of ships upon forts, while comparatively rare in the annals of naval warfare, and discountenanced by the older heads in the navy at San Juan de Ulloa, had the precedents of Blake’s famous fight at Santa Cruz, and the engagement of Lord Exmouth at Algiers in 1816. While it seemed to be the contest between the insecure and the secure, the weak and the strong, yet it had been successful, and wooden ships might anchor off stone walls or earthworks and silence their fire. On preceding occasions the attacking party had had the deep sea for safety; but tortuous channels, thick with infernal torpedoes and iron rams, were difficulties of greater moment. To attempt the impossible is the genius of modern warfare. With Von der Goltz, the admiral believed that “the greater living force dwells in the attack.” “ According to my theory,” he said, “ the best way to save yourself is to destroy your adversary.”
The personal feeling of responsibility for success in his undertaking led him to demand of his juniors the utmost energy. Subject to harsh criticism because of animadversions upon their conduct, he justifies himself : “ But a man must do his duty, particularly when that duty is fighting.” This consciousness that the admiral scrutinized every official act made those under his command not only faithful, but enthusiastic; for this scrutiny, they saw, was only the carefulness of a kind and energetic nature. It resulted that, under Farragut’s leadership, the Gulf Squadron acted with singular unanimity and devotion. His strong will gave courage to every man in the fleet. It enabled them " to face the unseen with a cheer.”
He possessed the quick wit which seizes upon the occasion, and in the unlooked-for emergency finds the door of success. Such emergencies occur less frequently on land. At sea a battle is a complicated problem. Currents, winds, stray shots, may destroy the finest calculation. Woe betide the commander who cannot summon to his aid on the instant his every faculty, his lifelong experience ! Two incidents at Mobile Bay illustrate this phase of his professional character. In the midst of the battle a surgeon left the ship, on a merciful errand. He was already at some distance, when the admiral sprang to the side, hailed him, and ordered him “to go to all the monitors and tell them to attack that Tennessee; ” for at that juncture the huge ram was discovered making swiftly for the flagship. This quick decision is illustrated again in the well-known incident of the fight, when the ships were proceeding in order of battle, the Brooklyn before the others. Suddenly, just before them was seen the awful catastrophe of the Tecumseh, which, shattered by a torpedo, disappeared as with a mighty sigh, and sank with bravest souls aboard. A moment’s shuddering pause, when consternation seized them, for lo, the Brooklyn stopped and backed ! The admiral, learning the cause, but fearing in his stout heart defeat more than disaster, unhesitatingly gave the order to go ahead at full speed, though it should usher every one of them the next moment into eternity. In all naval warfare it is hard to find an incident more dramatically cool. The remark of Sir Edward Howard, made as long ago as 1513, that “no admiral was good for anything that was not brave even to a degree of madness,” found illustration in Farragut.
The capture of New Orleans sealed the fate of the Confederacy; for it demonstrated the efficiency of the blockade and the hopelessness of seeking aid from abroad, — a possibility made hopeful to the Confederates by the career of the Merrimac in Hampton Roads. The life currents of commerce began again to flow between New York and New Orleans. From the Virginia capes to St. Louis, embracing thirty-five hundred miles of coast line, the navy had put a cordon of well-manned ships. To Farragut, accomplishing the hardest task, the greatest credit is due. While the Mississippi had been cleared. Vicksburg was not yet taken. At that time, June, 1862, Farragut believed that, with an army of ten or fifteen thousand men auxiliary to his force, it might be taken. General Halleck, answering his request, said. “ The scattered and weak condition of my forces renders it impossible, at the present, to detach any troops to coöperate with you at Vicksburg.” Yet a special effort at that time meant the saving of a year of siege, and the shortening of the war by many months.
A German military critic observes that intelligence in an officer is often overvalued, in time of war, as compared with will and courage. Men of that cast of mind make timid advisers in a council of war ; their reputation in times of peace is found inadequate to the strain put upon it by actual warfare. The civil war furnished one or two conspicuous examples.
In Farragut was united this broad intelligence and ability to organize and discipline with a courage and executive will power which made him the practical man commanding success under difficult conditions. The ability to maintain discipline and to develop the military qualities of the men under his command is an indispensable requisite in a naval officer. His later life demonstrated that Farragut was remarkable in this regard, although, as to discipline, two incidents, the only ones to be found, might at first sight seem to imply the contrary. He was subjected to the humiliation of being ordered home from the West Indies to stand trial for alleged cruel treatment on board his ship. Of this charge, however, he was acquitted. A man who had been violent and abusive, having been gagged by order of the ship’s corporal, subsequently died, — it was claimed as a consequence of his treatment; this claim, however, was disproved. He wrote of the cruise of the Saratoga in 1847 : " I am sorry to say that, during this cruise, I was compelled to rid the service of a lieutenant, a midshipman, two gunners, and a sail-maker, and to bring my first lieutenant to a courtmartial, on the very last day, for drunkenness.” An “ unhappy ” ship! These incidents may be considered as casual, inseparable from a long career, and therefore not militating against that personal hold upon his subordinates which is incumbent upon a commanding officer; or they may be held as so many lessons of experience from which he profited. At any rate, he had no lack in this respect when the war for the Union began.
Some official austerity is needed in the promotion of the military spirit. It is not incompatible with personal clemency. It is one of the means by which the will of the commander is made to tell upon the characters and efficiency of those under him. An example of Farragut’s peremptory manner, allowing nothing to thwart his well-devised plan, is seen in the following incident, now related for the first time. The officer, an engineer, who tells the story, mentions that an hour after the arrival of his ship in the gulf, during the spring of 1862, after three months of anxious service running the Potomac batteries, incessantly on watch for the Merrimac, the ship heavily strained while aground on Cary’s Foot Reef. Request was made for time to repair, under the circumstances not seemingly unreasonable. It was denied to his commanding officer, who was met by Farragut “with a prompt refusal to permit any delay, and was ordered to take in provisions and move at once. Upon the return of the commodore to the ship,” he continues, “ I was advised to go to the flagship and explain the necessities of the situation. Upon my arrival on board the Hartford, I went into the cabin, where I found the flag officer pacing to and fro, evidently under some excitement; and upon mystating the case and my wishes, he peremptorily refused everything. 1 No, sir ! ’ said he emphatically, ‘ not an hour. I expect you to go at once when the ship is ready. I will tolerate no delay whatever.’ Of course I returned to the Pensacola in no very enviable mood. A ' norther ’ just then brewing, however, settled matters for me, as it prevented the moving of any vessel for three days, during which time I had everything arranged to my own satisfaction. Usually the admiral was not rough in manner nor rude in speech. On subsequent duty with him, while fleet engineer, matters were always pleasant.”
Farragut was not a “martinet” in any sense. He did not believe in a “ crack ship,” if the reputation was gained at the expense of the comfort of every one on board. His mind was too large for petty fineness in discipline. Examining more closely his unofficial character, we see a man of a naturally quick temper. But one instance, however, is known of a burst of passion, and that of righteous indignation. It was when, in middle life, his honor was assailed, it having been intimated, in a casual remark, that he had made pecuniary gain by means of his official position.
It is difficult to dissociate in the mind the sad and terrible scenes of war from the characters of eminent commanders. They seem to us, in so far as they win great victories, men of “ blood and iron; ” and yet often they are men of gentle natures, to whom duty is as the “ stern daughter of the voice of God,” but whose hearts are tender and considerate. Farragut sent an officer out upon a perilous expedition one night, and wrote : “ I never felt such anxiety in my life as I did until his return.... I was as glad to see Bell as if he had been my boy. I was up all night, and could not sleep until he got back to the ship.”
His attention to his invalid wife through sixteen years of suffering was remarkable in its constant care and tender solicitude. This devotion was the occasion of an eulogistic remark of a Norfolk lady, to the effect that when Captain Farragut should die every woman in the city ought to contribute a stone to erect a monument to his memory winch should reach to the skies.
An old-time simplicity and frankness characterized him, — the acquisition of men who are happily freed from the confusing distinctions of morality in politics and commerce.
Farragut was a seaman of the old time when the navy stood apart, with a history, traditions, and life peculiar to itself. Once off soundings, it owned the great world, and yet had a little world of its own. In no respect would he have been called the “ sea dog,” even when that term was flatteringly applied. He was the sea officer and gentleman, well bred, keen eyed, and gracious, and competent to take his ship wherever ship could go. An utter sincerity shone in his life. It is not an uncommon trait in seafaring men. It found expression in fearlessness of speech, and won that confidence on the part of those with whom he had to do which enabled him to execute through them. He had the sacred hunger for fame, but was not influenced by political ambition, refusing without hesitation when he was approached with reference to a candidacy for the presidency. “ I am to have a flag in the gulf,” he joyously writes to his wife, “ and the rest depends upon myself.” Outside of the service nothing tempted him.
As the horizon of a man’s intellectual nature widens, and his head slowly emerges from the average mediocrity of his fellows; when, no longer with the crowd which follow like sheep, he thinks for himself; then the ephemeral, the unnecessary, the show of life, is justly estimated as of little value. He stands alone. If he is, however, as yet unpurified, there remains with him the pharisaic pride. If he has soul enough, he rises a step higher to that condition where he looks out upon the world astounded at the things to learn, overwhelmed at the difficulties of its problems ; and there comes to him that change which is so rare in successful men, making a few preëminent, the unconscious grace of modest worth. This change was wrought in Farragut. His duty, the thing to be done, engaged his whole nature. He seems to have had that power of exclusion which inheres in men who create or achieve, — artist, orator, poet, or soldier. The world outside, of other men’s interest and duty, is as naught. To such a man life means only the imperative demand of his conscience, wherever he may be. Other things, ambition, rest, luxury, applause, are of no concern ; and death, death would be a fit and happy culmination.
There came to Farragut throughout his life, as to other men, various griefs and disappointments, but he bore them all with fortitude and dignity. At the outbreak of the war he exclaimed, “God forbid that I should have to raise my hand against the South! ” Southern by birth and association, he went back to New Orleans, his boyhood’s home, conqueror indeed, but with none of the conqueror’s pride in his heart; and yet among many friends and acquaintances “ no man dared to say he was happy to see him.” Secretary Welles has written of the annoyances which he suffered during the last eighteen months of his life : “Changes were made in the service without his knowledge and against his judgment. The office of admiral, which Congress had created for him in acknowledgment of his distinguished and unequaled services, was, he saw, destined by favoritism to pass to another. In derogation of his real rank and position as chief of the navy he was made port admiral, an usher to wait upon and receive naval officers at New York, — an employment which self-respect and regard for the navy compelled him to decline. Among other indignities was that of ordering the uniform and the flag of admiral to be changed. . . . Farragut would neither change his coat, nor permit the tawdry substitute for the admiral’s flag to wave over him. On his special personal application, which he felt humiliated to make, the Secretary of the Navy permitted him to be spared these indignities during his lifetime, but it was with the knowledge that the flag which he had earned, the emblem he had chosen and prescribed as the symbol of highest naval rank, was to be buried with him.”
After the war was over Farragut made a European cruise. At dinner with the king of Belgium, an eye-witness relates : “ ‘ I have never in all my life seen the like of this,’ said the old field marshal at my side. ‘ The dinner is over, we are all ready to rise, and we are all tired of the table, but the king cannot leave your admiral. He has captured all Belgium ; we are his prisoners ; we shall never get away; we shall all die here. What is there about Farragut that is so fascinating ? ’ ‘ I cannot tell you, unless it is that the admiral is so very natural.’ ‘No, that is not it,’ replied the marshal; ‘he has magnetized the king. Farragut is a magician.’”
Sincerely religious in his nature, his faith was a marked characteristic in his life. He tells of himself that, at the critical moment in the battle of Mobile Bay, when defeat or victory hung in the balance, he offered up this prayer: “ O God, who created man and gave him reason, direct me what to do. Shall I go on ?” And it seemed as if, in answer, a voice commanded him to “go on.”
The people at large saw him only as the hero lashed to the rigging of the Hartford, amid the smoke-clouds, flashing guns, and roar of battle. It was no act of bravado on his part, but the consciousness that so he might best fight the battle, seeing everything with his own eyes.
Farragut, our first admiral, was of a race which has already passed away. He brought to us, in this generation, that high moral grace which made bravery and strength so beautiful in those old days. He bore the burden of responsibility cheerfully, and carried himself through all the vicissitudes of a long struggle with dignified and heroic bearing and thorough patriotism. In opening the Mississippi he started the life currents in our body politic which have flowed so strongly ever since. The republic was not ungrateful; the people delighted to know him, and when he died the busy world of our greatest city stood still for a whole day with uncovered head “to do him reverence.” He illustrated best his own saying, “ He who dies in doing his duty to his country and at peace with his God has played out the drama of life to the best advantage.”
Edward Kirk Rawson.