The Gun Club

: From The Earth To The Moon

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 a
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.



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