During the War of the
Rebellion, a new and influential club was established in the city
of Baltimore in the State of Maryland. It is well known with what
energy the taste for military matters became developed among that
nation of ship-owners, shopkeepers, and mechanics. Simple tradesmen
jumped their counters to become extemporized captains, colonels,
and generals, without having ever passed the School of Instruction
at West Point; nevertheless; they quickly rivaled their compeers of
the old continent, and, like them, carried off victories by dint of
lavish expenditure in ammunition, money, and men.
But the point in which the
Americans singularly distanced the Europeans was in the science of
gunnery. Not, indeed, that their weapons retained a higher degree
of perfection than theirs, but that they exhibited unheard-of
dimensions, and consequently attained hitherto unheard-of ranges.
In point of grazing, plunging, oblique, or enfilading, or
point-blank firing, the English, French, and Prussians have nothing
to learn; but their cannon, howitzers, and mortars are mere
pocket-pistols compared with the formidable engines of the American
artillery.
This fact need surprise no one.
The Yankees, the first mechanicians in the world, are engineers--
just as the Italians are musicians and the Germans metaphysicians--
by right of birth. Nothing is more natural, therefore, than to
perceive them applying their audacious ingenuity to the science of
gunnery. Witness the marvels of Parrott, Dahlgren, and Rodman. The
Armstrong, Palliser, and Beaulieu guns were compelled to bow before
their transatlantic rivals.
Now when an American has an idea,
he directly seeks a second American to share it. If there be three,
they elect a president and two secretaries. Given four, they name a
keeper of records, and the office is ready for work; five, they
convene a general meeting, and the club is fully constituted. So
things were managed in Baltimore. The inventor of a new cannon
associated himself with the caster and the borer. Thus was formed
the nucleus of the "Gun Club." In a single month after its
formation it numbered 1,833 effective members and 30,565
corresponding members.
One condition was imposed as a
sine qua non upon every candidate for admission into the
association, and that was the condition of having designed, or
(more or less) perfected a cannon; or, in default of a cannon, at
least a firearm of some description. It may, however, be mentioned
that mere inventors of revolvers, fire-shooting carbines, and
similar small arms, met with little consideration. Artillerists
always commanded the chief place of favor.
The estimation in which these
gentlemen were held, according to one of the most scientific
exponents of the Gun Club, was "proportional to the masses of their
guns, and in the direct ratio of the square of the distances
attained by their projectiles."
The Gun Club once founded, it is
easy to conceive the result of the inventive genius of the
Americans. Their military weapons attained colossal proportions,
and their projectiles, exceeding the prescribed limits,
unfortunately occasionally cut in two some unoffending pedestrians.
These inventions, in fact, left far in the rear the timid
instruments of European artillery.
It is but fair to add that these
Yankees, brave as they have ever proved themselves to be, did not
confine themselves to theories and formulae, but that they paid
heavily, in propria persona, for their inventions. Among them were
to be counted officers of all ranks, from lieutenants to generals;
military men of every age, from those who were just making their
debut in the profession of arms up to those who had grown old in
the gun-carriage. Many had found their rest on the field of battle
whose names figured in the "Book of Honor" of the Gun Club; and of
those who made good their return the greater proportion bore the
marks of their indisputable valor. Crutches, wooden legs,
artificial arms, steel hooks, caoutchouc jaws, silver craniums,
platinum noses, were all to be found in the collection; and it was
calculated by the great statistician Pitcairn that throughout the
Gun Club there was not quite one arm between four persons and two
legs between six.
Nevertheless, these valiant
artillerists took no particular account of these little facts, and
felt justly proud when the despatches of a battle returned the
number of victims at ten-fold the quantity of projectiles
expended.
One day, however-- sad and
melancholy day!-- peace was signed between the survivors of the
war; the thunder of the guns gradually ceased, the mortars were
silent, the howitzers were muzzled for an indefinite period, the
cannon, with muzzles depressed, were returned into the arsenal, the
shot were repiled, all bloody reminiscences were effaced; the
cotton-plants grew luxuriantly in the well-manured fields, all
mourning garments were laid aside, together with grief; and the Gun
Club was relegated to profound inactivity.
Some few of the more advanced and
inveterate theorists set themselves again to work upon calculations
regarding the laws of projectiles. They reverted invariably to
gigantic shells and howitzers of unparalleled caliber. Still in
default of practical experience what was the value of mere
theories? Consequently, the clubrooms became deserted, the servants
dozed in the antechambers, the newspapers grew mouldy on the
tables, sounds of snoring came from dark corners, and the members
of the Gun Club, erstwhile so noisy in their seances, were reduced
to silence by this disastrous peace and gave themselves up wholly
to dreams of a Platonic kind of artillery.
"This is horrible!" said Tom
Hunter one evening, while rapidly carbonizing his wooden legs in
the fireplace of the smoking-room; "nothing to do! nothing to look
forward to! what a loathsome existence! When again shall the guns
arouse us in the morning with their delightful reports?"
"Those days are gone by," said
jolly Bilsby, trying to extend his missing arms. "It was delightful
once upon a time! One invented a gun, and hardly was it cast, when
one hastened to try it in the face of the enemy! Then one returned
to camp with a word of encouragement from Sherman or a friendly
shake of the hand from McClellan. But now the generals are gone
back to their counters; and in place of projectiles, they despatch
bales of cotton. By Jove, the future of gunnery in America is
lost!"
"Ay! and no war in prospect!"
continued the famous James T. Maston, scratching with his steel
hook his gutta-percha cranium. "Not a cloud on the horizon! and
that too at such a critical period in the progress of the science
of artillery! Yes, gentlemen! I who address you have myself this
very morning perfected a model (plan, section, elevation, etc.) of
a mortar destined to change all the conditions of warfare!"
"No! is it possible?" replied Tom
Hunter, his thoughts reverting involuntarily to a former invention
of the Hon. J. T. Maston, by which, at its first trial, he had
succeeded in killing three hundred and thirty-seven people.
"Fact!" replied he. "Still, what
is the use of so many studies worked out, so many difficulties
vanquished? It's mere waste of time! The New World seems to have
made up its mind to live in peace; and our bellicose Tribune
predicts some approaching catastrophes arising out of this
scandalous increase of population."
"Nevertheless," replied Colonel
Blomsberry, "they are always struggling in Europe to maintain the
principle of nationalities."
"Well?"
"Well, there might be some field
for enterprise down there; and if they would accept our
services----"
"What are you dreaming of?"
screamed Bilsby; "work at gunnery for the benefit of
foreigners?"
"That would be better than doing
nothing here," returned the colonel.
"Quite so," said J. T. Matson;
"but still we need not dream of that expedient."
"And why not?" demanded the
colonel.
"Because their ideas of progress
in the Old World are contrary to our American habits of thought.
Those fellows believe that one can't become a general without
having served first as an ensign; which is as much as to say that
one can't point a gun without having first cast it oneself!"
"Ridiculous!" replied Tom Hunter,
whittling with his bowie-knife the arms of his easy chair; "but if
that be the case there, all that is left for us is to plant tobacco
and distill whale-oil."
"What!" roared J. T. Maston,
"shall we not employ these remaining years of our life in
perfecting firearms? Shall there never be a fresh opportunity of
trying the ranges of projectiles? Shall the air never again be
lighted with the glare of our guns? No international difficulty
ever arise to enable us to declare war against some transatlantic
power? Shall not the French sink one of our steamers, or the
English, in defiance of the rights of nations, hang a few of our
countrymen?"
"No such luck," replied Colonel
Blomsberry; "nothing of the kind is likely to happen; and even if
it did, we should not profit by it. American susceptibility is fast
declining, and we are all going to the dogs."
"It is too true," replied J. T.
Maston, with fresh violence; "there are a thousand grounds for
fighting, and yet we don't fight. We save up our arms and legs for
the benefit of nations who don't know what to do with them! But
stop-- without going out of one's way to find a cause for war-- did
not North America once belong to the English?"
"Undoubtedly," replied Tom
Hunter, stamping his crutch with fury.
"Well, then," replied J. T.
Maston, "why should not England in her turn belong to the
Americans?"
"It would be but just and fair,"
returned Colonel Blomsberry.
"Go and propose it to the
President of the United States," cried J. T. Maston, "and see how
he will receive you."
"Bah!" growled Bilsby between the
four teeth which the war had left him; "that will never do!"
"By Jove!" cried J. T. Maston,
"he mustn't count on my vote at the next election!"
"Nor on ours," replied
unanimously all the bellicose invalids.
"Meanwhile," replied J. T.
Maston, "allow me to say that, if I cannot get an opportunity to
try my new mortars on a real field of battle, I shall say good-by
to the members of the Gun Club, and go and bury myself in the
prairies of Arkansas!"
"In that case we will accompany
you," cried the others.
Matters were in this unfortunate
condition, and the club was threatened with approaching
dissolution, when an unexpected circumstance occurred to prevent so
deplorable a catastrophe.
On the morrow after this
conversation every member of the association received a sealed
circular couched in the following terms:
BALTIMORE, October 3.
The president of the Gun Club has
the honor to inform his colleagues that, at the meeting of the 5th
instant, he will bring before them a communication of an extremely
interesting nature. He requests, therefore, that they will make it
convenient to attend in accordance with the present invitation.
Very cordially,
IMPEY BARBICANE, P.G.C.
