The Tennessee's flag had been several times shot away, and was now flying from a boat-hook. Not being very conspicuous, its removal was not immediately noticed, and Johnston had to show a white flag to put a stop to the firing. "She was at this time sore beset," said Farragut in his dispatch to the Navy Department; "the Chickasaw was pounding away at her stern, the Ossipee was approaching her at full speed, and the Monongahela, Lackawanna, and Hartford were bearing down upon her, determined upon her destruction. Her smoke-stack had been shot away, her steering chains were gone, compelling a resort to her relieving tackles, and several of her port shutters were jammed. Indeed, from the time the Hartford struck her until her surrender she never fired a gun." No stronger evidence can be offered than this last sentence, which Johnston's account corroborates, of how completely Buchanan miscalculated, or disregarded, the capabilities of the important vessel he controlled. Great as was her power to resist a single shot, or the end-on charge of a heavy vessel, when she surrendered nearly all the plating on the after side of the casemate was found to be started, and the after gun-carriage was disabled; there being distinct marks of nine eleven-inch solid shot having struck within a few square feet of that port. Three of her port shutters also were so damaged that their guns could not be fired.
Thus ended the great battle of Mobile Bay, the crowning achievement of Farragut's naval career; "one of the hardest-earned victories of my life," to quote his own words, "and the most desperate battle I ever fought since the days of the old Essex." "You may pass through a long career and see many an action," he remarked to one of the junior officers of the Hartford, in the interval between first anchoring and the conflict with the Tennessee, "without seeing as much bloodshed as you have this day witnessed." The loss of the flag-ship herself had been twenty-five killed and twenty-eight wounded out of a ship's company of some three hundred souls. The Brooklyn, a ship of the same force, had almost exactly the same number of casualties—eleven killed and forty-three wounded. Contrasting the equal suffering of the latter—delayed so long under the numerous guns of the fort, but supported by the fire of the other vessels—with that of the flag-ship, inflicted by the batteries of the enemy's gun-boats, few in number, but worked for the time with impunity, we find an excellent illustration of Farragut's oft-repeated maxim, that "to hurt your enemy is the best way to keep him from hurting you." The total loss of the United States fleet in the battle was three hundred and thirty-five; of whom one hundred and thirteen were at the bottom of the bay, coffined in the iron hull of the Tecumseh.
Not quite three hours elapsed from the time that Morgan fired its first gun to the moment when the Tennessee hauled down her flag and confessed the United States fleet mistress of the bay. The forts still stood with the Confederate flag flying from them in defiance; and it is reported that the commander of Morgan retorted to a summons to surrender, that he looked upon Farragut's fleet as practically prisoners in a port whose keys he held. If so, it was the high-hearted resolve of a man determined to hold his charge to the last, and not the sober conviction of a soldier, that spoke. Like the river forts when Farragut's fleet forced its way past and stood between them and their base of supplies, the defenses of Mobile were isolated by the results of the morning's fight, and their fall became but a question of time. There was no mutiny of the garrison, as on the former occasion, for the stern experience of war had better taught the men the business of a soldier; but it was at once practicable here to begin siege operations, which in the river would perhaps have been for a time postponed, owing to the overflowed state of the country. The preparations for these were pushed with vigor, and the navy also took a hand against the works. Four hours after the surrender of the Tennessee, the Chickasaw weighed her anchor and steamed down toward Grant's Pass to shell Fort Powell. Built to resist an attack from Mississippi Sound, the work was weak in the direction of the bay. "The ironclad's fire," reported the officer in command, "made it impossible to man the two guns in the rear, and I made no attempt to do so." That night the fort was evacuated and blown up. The following day the Chickasaw threw some shells into Fort Gaines, in consequence of which, and of the progress made by General Granger in his approaches, that work was surrendered on the 7th of August. Morgan still standing out, the army was transferred from Dauphin Island to Mobile Point, batteries were constructed, and on the 17th a siege train from New Orleans was landed. On the 22d, at daylight, the siege guns, the three monitors, the captured Tennessee, and the ships, both outside and inside the bay, opened together. The following day Fort Morgan capitulated.
A gratifying feature in these operations, as well as in all Farragut's official association with the army, was the cordial good feeling and co-operation which existed between the two services, and which were equally manifested in the upper Mississippi between Grant and Porter. General Butler, Farragut's first colleague in the Gulf and at New Orleans, but who had long since left the department, wrote him a most enthusiastic letter of congratulation upon receiving the news of the battle of Mobile Bay; and General Granger, in concluding his report of the siege operations against Gaines and Morgan, said: "I am pleased to record the perfect harmony existing between these two branches of the service. For my own part, I can not sufficiently acknowledge the assistance rendered by the fleet and the admiral in command in transporting and disembarking the troops, guns, and materials employed by me in the operations. In brief, during all our relations, the officers of the fleet, with their distinguished commander, displayed in a high degree those qualities which mark their gallant service." To the officers of the navy the testimonies thus given can not but be most grateful; not merely as acknowledgments of the important part played by a service whose work is too often ignored by historians, but chiefly as giving an added lustre to the brilliant reputation of its two most distinguished representatives, who successively filled the high position of admiral of the navy.
After the capitulation of the forts, Admiral Farragut remained in Mobile Bay until the following November. The lower bay was cleared of torpedoes and reconnoissances made toward Mobile; but he wrote adversely to any attempt against the city, now that it was sealed as a port to blockade runners. "It would be an elephant," he wrote, "and take an army to hold it. And besides, all the traitors and rascally speculators would flock to that city and pour into the Confederacy the wealth of New York." He confesses also his dislike to operations in very shoal water. "I am in no way diffident about going anywhere in the Hartford, but when I have to leave her and take to a craft drawing six feet of water I feel badly."
The admiral's health was now suffering much from the combined effects of his labors, his anxieties, and the climate. "I am as well as a man can be who can neither sit, walk, nor stand five minutes at a time on account of Job's comforters. But, thank God (I have so much to be thankful for that I am thanking him all the time), I am otherwise in pretty good condition." Despite this brave effort at cheerfulness, his letters from time to time began to show symptoms of depression, and he longed for rest. "This is the last of my work," he said, "and I expect a little respite." His enfeebled condition drew the attention and excited the alarm of those about him. "I was talking to the admiral to-day," wrote Perkins, of the Chickasaw, the day after Morgan surrendered, "when all at once he fainted away. He is not very well and is all tired out. It gave me quite a shock, and shows how exhausted he is, and his health is not very good, any way. He is a mighty fine old fellow." Captain Drayton also wrote home to his family that, if the admiral remained longer in the Gulf, he feared for the consequences.
Under these circumstances an order from the Navy Department, dated the 5th of September, assigning him to the command of the Fort Fisher expedition, greatly upset him. He had about a week before written to the Secretary to say that his strength was almost exhausted. "I am willing," he concluded, "to do the bidding of the department as long as I am able to the best of my abilities. I fear, however, that my health is giving way. I have now been down in the Gulf five years out of six, with the exception of the short time at home last fall; the last six months have been a severe drag upon me, and I want rest, if it is to be had."
To so reasonable a request, after such distinguished and valuable service, the department could not have closed its ears had it been so disposed. Farragut was authorized to leave his squadron in charge of Commodore James S. Palmer, a very gallant and efficient officer, and to come north in the Hartford. On the 30th of November, 1864, he sailed from Pensacola, and on the 12th of December the flag-ship again anchored in New York Harbor.
CHAPTER XI.
LATER YEARS AND DEATH.
1864-1870
With the strong national and patriotic feeling that had been aroused throughout the Northern States by the war of secession, Farragut had no cause to complain of ingratitude or indifference on the part either of the Government or of his fellow-countrymen. As the flag-ship entered the Narrows, on his final return from the Gulf, she was met by a representative committee from the city officials and citizens of New York. Enthusiastic crowds greeted him as he landed at the Battery, and a reception given him the same afternoon at the Custom House was thronged by the leading men of the city. This eager manifestation of good-will and admiration was followed, a few days later, by a flattering request that the admiral would honor the city by taking up his abode in it and becoming thenceforth one of its citizens. After reciting the deeds which had won for him universal applause and thankfulness, the committee said: "The citizens of New York can offer no tribute equal to your claim on their gratitude and affection. Their earnest desire is to receive you as one of their number, and to be permitted, as fellow-citizens, to share in the renown you will bring to the metropolitan city. This desire is felt in common by the whole community."
This graceful tribute of words was accompanied by the gift of fifty thousand dollars, to facilitate Farragut's complying with the request. The letter was addressed to Vice-Admiral Farragut; the United States Government, not to be behindhand in acknowledging its debt to its most distinguished seaman, having created for him that grade soon after his arrival. The bill for the purpose was introduced on the 22d of December, 1864, immediately passed by both houses, and became law by the President's signature the following day. Farragut's nomination and confirmation followed of course and at once; so that his promotion came to him in the Christmas holidays. The admiral gratefully acknowledged the warm welcome of the New Yorkers, while modestly disavowing, as far as he could, his claim to extraordinary merit in the brilliant services which he asserted were but the performance of his duty; and he thankfully accepted, as the spontaneous offering of his fellow-countrymen, the recompense which in older countries is the usual reward of distinguished military success, but conferred there through the formal medium of the central government.
Toward the end of January, 1865, the Confederate vessels in the James made an attempt to descend the river, destroy the pontoon bridges of the United States armies, and cut off both the Army of the James and that of the Potomac from their base of supplies at City Point. Rear-Admiral David D. Porter, who then commanded the North Atlantic Squadron, was fully occupied at the time with the bombardment of Fort Fisher and capture of Wilmington, North Carolina; and as the hostile attempt threatened a very serious annoyance to the communications of the army, Farragut, who was then in Washington, was ordered to proceed to the spot. He accordingly hoisted his flag on a small steamer and ran down to the James; but, finding upon his arrival that the enemy had been repulsed, and satisfactory measures taken to prevent a renewal of the effort, he returned to Washington. This slight episode concluded his active service in the war.
When Richmond was evacuated on the 2d of April, 1865, Farragut was among the first to visit the fallen capital of the Confederacy. From there a few days later he visited his old home in Norfolk. Many of his former friends still retained strong feelings of resentment against him, as a Southern man who had taken arms against the South. The impression had obtained among some that, though leaving his old home, he would remain neutral; and it was even reported that he had said he would take no part in the war. That Farragut never passed through that phase of feeling, in the struggle between life-long affections and the sense of duty, would be too much to affirm; but it was a position in which a man of his decided and positive character could not have stopped when civil strife was upon the land. It was inconsistent with his general habits of thought; and it is evident that, before leaving Norfolk, his convictions on the particular crisis had already left far behind any such temporary halting place between two opinions. When he justified to his excited neighbors President Lincoln's call for troops, on the ground that the United States Government could do no less, when its arsenals and navy yards were seized and its flag fired upon, it is inconceivable that the man who then had such courage of his opinions entertained any further doubt as to his future course; though it may well be that he did not imperil his personal liberty and safety by any irritating avowal of his purpose. In a reception given to him, when he thus revisited the place which should no longer be his home, he recalled those days and said: "I was told by a brother officer that the State had seceded, and that I must either resign and turn traitor to the Government which had supported me from my childhood, or I must leave this place. Thank God! I was not long in making my decision. I have spent half my life in revolutionary countries, and I know the horrors of civil war, and I told the people what I had seen and what they would experience. They laughed at me, and called me 'granny' and 'croaker'; and I said: 'I can not live here, and will seek some other place where I can live, and on two hours' notice.' I suppose they said I left my country for my country's good, and thank God I did! I was unwilling to believe that this difficulty would not have been settled; but it was all in vain, and as every man must do in a revolution, as he puts his foot down, so it marks his life."
In the summer of 1865, following the close of the war, Farragut visited several of the New England cities, receiving everywhere marks of love and admiration similar to those tendered to him in New York; but his life for the next two years was passed in comparative retirement, seeking the re-establishment of his health, which had been severely shaken by the exposures and anxieties of the war. Though for the most part unassigned to any special duties, the winding up of the affairs of the West Gulf Squadron fully occupied his time.
On the 25th of July, 1866, Congress passed a law creating the grade of admiral in the United States Navy, a position which was of course given at once to Farragut, and has been held by but one other—the late Admiral David D. Porter. The following year he was appointed to command the European Squadron, his flag being hoisted on board the steam frigate Franklin on the 17th of June, 1867. Without any request, and indeed without any expectation, on his part, the Government sent the admiral permission for Mrs. Farragut and a kinswoman to accompany him during the cruise. On the 28th of June the ship sailed from New York,25 and on the 14th of July anchored in Cherbourg, France.
After passing a fortnight there, during which the admiral visited Paris and dined with the Emperor, the Franklin sailed for the Baltic, where the months of August and September were passed in visiting the ports of Russia, Sweden, and Denmark. Everywhere Farragut was received with the enthusiasm and distinguished consideration that were aroused among naval officers, by the presence of the man who had bestowed upon their profession a lustre unequaled by any other deeds of that generation. Toward the end of September he arrived in England, where a month was spent in a similar gratifying manner; attentions being lavished upon him by men not only of his own calling, but of all positions. Here, as in the Baltic, every opportunity was given Farragut for visiting all objects of general interest, as well as for examining the professional improvements of the day.
From England the Franklin went to the Mediterranean, which Farragut had not seen since the flying trip made by the Brandywine in the winter of 1825, after landing Lafayette in France. Between October, 1867, and April, 1868, were visited Lisbon, Gibraltar, and several ports of the western Mediterranean belonging to Spain, France, and Italy. Everywhere the same cordial welcome was extended, and the most ample facilities enjoyed for seeing thoroughly the points of interest in which the Mediterranean abounds. At Nice he was the object of especial attentions from the numerous Americans who throng that attractive winter resort; and while at Naples a special excavation was made at Pompeii for his benefit. Nowhere, however, did he have a more elaborate and, from the professional point of view, more interesting reception than in Malta, the great British stronghold in the central Mediterranean; where the Mediterranean fleet, then on the point of sailing for the Levant, was detained especially to meet him.
The incidents of this cruise which most nearly touch Farragut himself, and have the greatest interest for his biographer, occurred in the island of Minorca, where his family originated. Over forty years had passed since, as midshipman and lieutenant, he had wintered at Port Mahon. During those early visits he had received messages from persons living in the interior of the island who claimed relationship; but with boyish indifference he had not responded to any of these advances. Since that time he had become imbued with the interest men commonly feel, in advancing years, in collecting all traces of family history which they can find; especially when, as in his case, they have been early and completely separated from the home of their childhood and of their race. The late George Ticknor had sent him an old Spanish book, the poems of Mossen Jaime Febrer, in which he read the account of his earliest celebrated ancestor, Pedro Ferragut. Among several escutcheons of the family that have been preserved, bearing diverse ecclesiastical and military emblems indicative of the individual's profession, all contain the common distinguishing device of a horseshoe; and this the admiral, moved by the feeling of kinship, had adopted for his plate. Drawn by these ties of blood and by curiosity, it was a matter of course that Farragut should visit the famous harbor for which British, French, and Spaniards had battled, and which lay within the limits of his command. The renown of his achievements had carried his name to Ciudadela, the remote inland city where his father was born over a century before; and the quiet islanders, who had exulted in the fame of one sprung from their race, were ready to greet him and claim him as their own. In response to an invitation given by them, the admiral, in December, 1867, paid a visit to Ciudadela, of which the following account is given by his secretary, Mr. Montgomery, who accompanied him on the trip:
"The day after Christmas had been designated by the admiral for his promised visit to Ciudadela, in response to the cordial invitation of the authorities and people of that city. The news of this tour of pleasure had spread rapidly to all parts of the island, and occasioned a general rest from labor and a popular concentration upon the lines of travel. At the towns of Alayor and Mercadal flocks of people of both sexes had assembled on the roadside to unite with the authorities in tendering our naval chieftain a cordial welcome, and in expressing their delight at his advent.
"Although unable to accept the offers of hospitality which even in these unpretending villages were showered upon him, the admiral heartily acknowledged the gratification he felt at their demonstrations of personal regard, and, passing along the excited lines, he underwent a siege of hand-shaking. At these points and elsewhere along the route soldiers had been stationed to pay him proper honors, and to tender him any assistance he might require throughout his journey.
"On his arrival within four miles of Ciudadela he was formally received by the Alcalde; and a large committee, comprising many prominent citizens, tendered the hospitalities of the city, and cordially welcomed him as its guest. After a brief interchange of courtesies, he was transferred to a very handsome barouche, and conducted forward in the van of a quite formidable-looking procession, demonstrations of every kind increasing as he approached this ancient capital of Minorca, the present residence of many of those who prefer the quiet seclusion of their island home to the more dazzling notoriety incident to many of the older and gayer provinces of the mainland. Outside the walls of the city his appearance was no sooner heralded than masses of people of every age, sex, and condition rushed forward to greet him, filling the air with cheers and acclamations. As he passed the gates of the city, the walls, house-tops, and balconies were crowded with anxious spectators, uniting demonstrations of welcome with equally expressive shouts from the swaying multitude who had taken possession of the principal thoroughfares. One old man of threescore years and ten, with tears streaming down his weather-beaten face, stamped sincerity itself upon the nature of the welcome by shouting aloud: 'He is ours! he is ours! but I shall never see him more.'
"The avenue leading to the residence of Señor Don Gabriel Squella, which had been kindly placed by that gentleman at the disposal of the admiral and his suite, was literally blocked with people, and the excitement rose rapidly to fever heat as the head of the column appeared in view endeavoring to make a breach in a body absolutely closed in mass. It was with no little difficulty that the procession forced a passage; and although policemen did their utmost, and jostled, and crowded, and threatened, accompanying their language with all the vocabulary of Spanish expletives, it was found necessary to disembark at some distance from the hospitable mansion and trust to the humanity of our entertainers to afford an entrance on foot. But the temporary concealment of the admiral within the delightful headquarters which had been assigned him seemed to be the signal for a renewed outburst, which brought him to the balcony, upon which he stood bowing his thanks and acknowledging in every possible way his heartfelt appreciation of the cordial welcome extended him, until it appeared that there was no prospect of a cessation of hostilities, when, for the first time in his life, he was persuaded to retreat in the face of superior numbers.
"The excitement continued unabated, however, throughout the entire evening, and it was not until near midnight that the crowd slowly dispersed, and the peaceful little city of Ciudadela resumed its wonted quiet, and its order-loving citizens, unaccustomed to all such sounds of revelry by night, retired to their own little homesteads.
"During this time a fine band of music was stationed in the capacious vestibule on the first floor of Señor Squella's mansion, and almost all the prominent citizens of the place, with their families, called to pay their respects to the city's guest, making the scene of excitement within as pleasant as that without was tumultuous.
"On the following morning enthusiasm arose with the sun, once more took firm possession of the street fronting the headquarters of the admiral, and there kept anxious watch. I am confident that, had there been an election that day for Governor of the Balearic Islands, or for King of Spain itself, the admiral would have been chosen without opposition.
"At an early hour, accompanied by his entire suite, all surrounded and followed by an admiring and excited throng, he was escorted by the committee and other citizens to all the places of interest in and about the city, and finally to the cathedral, in which he had scarcely been seated before it was literally packed in every part by people, their hundreds of eyes being riveted upon the pleasant countenance of the unappalled admiral, who withstood the onslaught with as much sang froid as if accustomed to such trying ordeals.
"Soon after, the great organ pealed forth our own national melodies, recalling our far-off land even to those whose knowledge of its power and glory was limited to its history, and the sparse information derived from the few Americans who have visited this secluded city."
After leaving the Mediterranean in April, 1868, the Franklin went to Holland and Belgium, and thence made a second visit to England, in the course of which Farragut was presented to Queen Victoria, and visited Scotland and the north of England. In July he returned to the Mediterranean and made a round of the Levant, visiting Constantinople; a special indulgence to anchor before the city being accorded to the ship bearing the flag of an admiral, whose exceptional achievements made it unlikely that the privilege would shortly be construed into a precedent. After a short stay in Athens, and a run up to Trieste at the head of the Adriatic, the Franklin returned to Gibraltar, and thence sailed for New York, which she reached on the 10th of November, 1868; thus concluding a cruise which, from the beginning to the end, had resembled a triumphal progress in the enthusiastic recognition everywhere extended to the hero, whose battle-won blue flag she carried at her main.
Less than two years of life remained to Admiral Farragut when he returned from the Mediterranean. The following summer of 1869 he visited the California coast, where he had not been since he gave up the command of the Mare Island Navy Yard in 1858. The welcome here accorded him was as hearty as that extended in foreign countries, and mingled with the admiration due to the conquering admiral was the recollection of warm mutual affection and esteem engendered by four years of close intercourse. Returning from San Francisco to the East, Farragut was seized at Chicago with a violent illness, in which the heart was affected. For some days his life was despaired of; and although by careful nursing he recovered so as to resume his journey, it is doubtful whether he ever regained the ground then lost. Several severe attacks followed this one; and although he rallied with extraordinary rapidity, thanks to a vigorous constitution, it was apparent that his health was failing. A few months later, in the middle of winter, he consented to take charge of the naval ceremonies in honor of the remains of Mr. George Peabody, whose body had been brought to the United States in the British ship-of-war Monarch, in recognition of his benevolence to the poor of London. It was his last official duty, and the exposure attendant upon funeral ceremonies in that bleak season was much to be deprecated in a man of his years and failing vigor.
The following summer the Navy Department placed at his disposal the dispatch steamer Tallapoosa, which took him and his family to Portsmouth, New Hampshire; where he became the guest of the late Rear-Admiral Pennock, then commandant of the Navy Yard at that place and a connection by marriage of Mrs. Farragut. It was his last sea voyage, and he appeared to have a presentiment that it was so; for as the ship drew near the yard he arose from his sick bed at the sound of the salute being fired in his honor, dressed himself in full uniform, and went on deck. Looking up with a sad smile at his flag flying from the mast-head, he said: "It would be well if I died now, in harness." Shortly after his arrival, an old sailor who had charge of the sloop-of-war Dale, then lying dismantled at the wharf, met there the admiral, who had wandered on board. He looked about the ship and, as he left her to go ashore, said: "This is the last time I shall ever tread the deck of a man-of-war." This prediction proved true. He passed quietly away at the commandant's house, on the 14th of August, 1870, aged sixty-nine years; surrounded by his family and loving friends, including many of his old companions in arms. The body was laid temporarily in Portsmouth, the naval officers and citizens of the place uniting to pay every respect to his memory.
In September the Navy Department sent the steam frigate Guerrière to bring the admiral's body to New York. This ship running aground on Nantucket Shoal, the remains were transferred to another vessel and so conveyed to the city. The final and public funeral ceremonies were held on the 30th of September; the day being observed as one of general mourning, the city edifices draped, bells tolled, and minute guns fired. In the procession was General Grant, then President of the United States, with the members of his Cabinet, many military and naval officers, ten thousand soldiers, and a large number of societies. By these the coffin of the admiral was escorted to the railroad station, whence it was transported to Woodlawn Cemetery, in Westchester County, where the body now lies.