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THE
CONTINENTAL MONTHLY:
DEVOTED TO
Literature and National Policy.
VOL. VI.--JULY, 1864.--NO. I.
New York:
JOHN F. TROW, 50 GREENE STREET,
(FOR THE PROPRIETORS.)
1864.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by
JOHN F. TROW,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the
Southern District of New York.
JOHN F. TROW,
PRINTER, STEREOTYPER, AND ELECTROTYPER.
50 Greene street, New York.
* * * * *
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|Transcriber's note: Obvious printer errors have been corrected. All |
|other inconstencies in spelling or punctuation are as in the original.|
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AN ARMY: ITS ORGANIZATION AND MOVEMENTS.
_SECOND PAPER._
Having, in the preceding paper, described the general organization[1] of
an army, we proceed to give a succinct account of some of the principal
staff departments, in their relations to the troops.
Army organization--notwithstanding the world has always been engaged in
military enterprises--is of comparatively recent institution. Many of
the principles of existing military systems date no farther back than to
Frederic the Great, of Prussia, and many were originated by Napoleon.
Staff departments, particularly, as now constituted, are of late origin.
The staff organization is undergoing constant changes. Its most improved
form is to be found in France and Prussia. Our own staff system is of a
composite, and, in some respects, heterogeneous character--not having
been, constructed on any regular plan, but built up by gradual
accretions and imitations of European features, from the time of our
Revolution till the present. It has, however, worked with great vigor
and efficiency.
The staff of any commander is usually spoken of in two classes--the
departmental and the personal--the latter including the aides-de-camp,
who pertain more particularly to the person of the commander, while the
former belong to the organization. Of the departmental staff, the
assistant adjutant-generals and assistant inspector-generals are
denominated the 'general staff,' because their functions extend through
all branches of the organization, while the other officers are confined
exclusively to their own departments.
The _chief of staff_ is a recent French imitation. The first officer
assigned in that capacity was General Marcy, on the staff of General
McClellan, in the fall of 1861. Previous to that time the officers of
the adjutant-general's department--on account of their intimate
relations with commanding officers, as their official organs and the
mediums through which all orders were transmitted--had occupied it. The
duties of these officers, however, being chiefly of a bureau character,
allowing them little opportunity for active external supervision, it has
been deemed necessary to select for heads of the staffs, officers
particularly qualified to assist the commander in devising strategical
plans, organizing, and moving troops, etc.; competent to oversee and
direct the proceedings of the various staff departments; untrammelled
with any exclusive routine of duty, and able in any emergency, when the
commander may be absent, to give necessary orders. For these reasons,
although the innovation has not been sanctioned by any law, or any
standing rule of the War Department, and although its propriety is
discussed by many, the custom of assigning officers as chiefs of staff
has become universal, and will probably be permanent. The extent and
character of their duties depend, however, upon themselves, being
regulated by no orders, and the high responsibilities attached to the
position in France have not thus far been assumed by the officers
occupying it here. In the French service, the chief of staff is the
actual as well as the nominal head of the organization; he supervises
all its operations; he is the _alter ego_ of the commander. In the
Waterloo campaign, for instance, Marshal Soult was the chief of
Napoleon's staff, and the emperor attributed his disaster, in part, to
some of the orders issued by the marshal.
Our limits will not permit a description of the duties pertaining to the
various members of the staff, but we pass to the consideration of those
departments, the operations of which most directly affect the soldier,
are indispensable to every army, and are most interesting to the public.
Let us first consider the _quartermaster's department_, which, from the
character and diversity of its duties, the amount of its expenditures,
and its influence upon military operations, may be ranked as among the
most important. This department provides clothing, camp and garrison
equipage, animals and transportation of all kinds, fuel, forage, straw,
and stationery, an immense variety of the miscellaneous materials
required by an army, and for a vast amount of miscellaneous
expenditures. It is, in fact, the great business operator of a military
organization. In an active army, the success of movements depends very
much on its efficiency. Unless the troops are kept properly clothed, the
animals and means of transportation maintained in good condition, and
the immense trains moved with regularity and promptness, the best
contrived plans will fail in their development and execution.
The department, at the commencement of the war, had supplies in store
only for the current uses of the regular army. When the volunteer forces
were organized it became necessary to make hasty contracts and purchases
to a large amount; but as even the best-informed members of the
Government had no adequate prevision of the extent and duration of the
war, and of the necessary arrangements for its demands, a considerable
period elapsed before a sufficient quantity of the required materials
could be accumulated. Those were the days of 'shoddy' cloth and spavined
horses. The department, however, exhibited great administrative energy,
under the direction of its able head, General M. C. Meigs, and has amply
provided for the enormous demands upon it.
Depots for the reception of supplies are established in the large
cities, whence they are transferred as required to the great issuing
depots near the active armies, and from them to the depots in the field.
Thus, the main depots of the Army of the Potomac are at Washington and
Alexandria--a field depot being established at its centre, when lying
for any length of time in camp. Only current supplies are kept on hand
at the latter, and no surplus is transported on the march, except the
required amounts of subsistence and forage.
A great deal is said in connection with military movements, of 'bases of
operation.' These are the points in the rear of an army from which it
receives supplies and reënforcements, and with which its communications
must at all hazards be kept open, except it has means of transportation
sufficient to render it independent of its depots for a considerable
period, or unless the country traversed is able to afford subsistence
for men and animals. When an army marches along a navigable river, its
secondary base becomes movable, and it is less confined to the necessity
of protecting its rear. In Virginia, however, the connection of the Army
of the Potomac with Washington is imperative, and this fact explains the
contracted sphere of the operations of that army.
The transportation of supplies is limited by the ability of the
Government to provide trains, and by the ability of the army to protect
them; for large trains create large drafts on the troops for teamsters,
pioneers, guards, etc. An army train, upon the most limited allowance
compatible with freedom of operations for a few days, away from the
depots, is an immense affair. Under the existing allowances in the Army
of the Potomac, a corps of thirty thousand infantry has about seven
hundred wagons, drawn by four thousand two hundred mules; the horses of
officers and of the artillery will bring the number of animals to be
provided for up to about seven thousand. On the march it is calculated
that each wagon will occupy about eighty feet--in bad roads much more;
consequently a train of seven hundred wagons will cover fifty-six
thousand feet of road--or over ten miles; the ambulances of a corps will
occupy about a mile, and the batteries about three miles; thirty
thousand troops need six miles to march in, if they form but one column;
the total length of the marching column of a corps is therefore _twenty
miles_, even without including the cattle herds and trains of bridge
material. Readers who have been accustomed to think that our armies have
not exhibited sufficient energy in surmounting the obstacles of bad
roads, unbridged streams, etc., will be able to estimate, upon the above
statements, the immense difficulty of moving trains and artillery. The
trains of an army have been properly denominated its _impedimenta_, and
their movement and protection is one of the most difficult incidental
operations of warfare--particularly in a country like Virginia, where
the art of road making has attained no high degree of perfection, and
where the forests swarm with guerillas.
To an unaccustomed observer the concourse of the trains of an army, in
connection with any rapid movement, would give the idea of inextricable
confusion. It is of course necessary to move them upon as many different
roads as possible, but it will frequently happen that they must be
concentrated in a small space, and move in a small number of columns.
During the celebrated 'change of base' from Richmond to Harrison's
Landing, the trains were at first obliged to move upon only one
road--across White Oak Swamp--which happened fortunately to be wide
enough for three wagons to go abreast. There were perhaps twenty-five
hundred vehicles, which would make a continuous line of some forty or
fifty miles. While the slow and toilsome course of this cumbrous column
was proceeding, the troops were obliged to remain in the rear and fight
the battles of Savage Station and White Oak Swamp for its protection. A
similar situation of trains occurred last fall when General Meade
retired from the Rappahannock, but fortunately the country presented
several practicable routes. It is on a retreat, particularly, that the
difficulty of moving trains is experienced, and thousands of lives and
much valuable material have been lost by the neglect of commanding
officers to place them sufficiently far in the rear during a battle, so
as to permit the troops to fall back when necessary, without
interruption.
A march being ordered, supplies according to the capacity of the trains,
are directed to be carried. The present capacity of the trams of the
Army of the Potomac is ten days' subsistence and forage, and sixty
rounds of small-arm ammunition--the men carrying in addition a number of
days' rations, and a number of rounds, upon their persons. When the
wagons reach camp each evening, such supplies as have been expended are
replenished from them. As a general rule the baggage wagons camp every
night with the troops, but the exigencies are sometimes such that
officers are compelled to deny themselves for one or even two weeks the
luxury of a change of clothing--the wagons not reaching camp, perhaps,
till after midnight, and the troops resuming their march an hour or two
afterward. Those who indulge in satires upon the wearers of shoulder
straps would be likely to form a more correct judgment of an officer's
position and its attendant hardships, could they see him at the close of
a fortnight's campaign. Like the soldier, he can rely on nothing for
food or clothing except what is carried by himself, unless he maintains
a servant, and the latter will find a few blankets, a coffee pot, some
crackers, meat, sugar, coffee, etc., for his own and his employer's
consumption, a sufficient burden.
Let us see how the supplies of the quartermaster's department are
distributed.
At stated periods, if circumstances permit--usually at the first of each
month--the regimental quartermasters, after consultation with the
company officers, forward through their superiors to the chief
quartermasters of corps, statements of the articles required by the men.
These are consolidated and presented to the chief quartermaster of the
army, who orders them from Washington, and issues them from the army
depot--the whole operation requiring about a week. The number of
different _kinds_ of articles thus drawn monthly is about five hundred;
the _quantity_ of each kind depends on the number of men to be supplied,
and the nature of the service performed since the previous issue. If
there has been much marching, there will be a great demand for shoes; if
a battle, large quantities of all kinds of articles to replace those
lost on the battle field will be required.
An infantry soldier is allowed the following principal articles of
clothing during a three years' term of service:
1st Year. 2d Year. 3d Year.
Cap, 1 1 1
Coat, 2 1 2
Trowsers, 3 2 3
Flannel shirt, 3 3 3
Drawers, 3 2 2
Shoes, 4 4 4
Stockings, 4 4 4
Overcoat, 1 0 0
Blanket, 1 0 1
Indiarubber blanket, 1 1 1
The prices of these are stated each year in a circular from the
department, and, as the soldier draws them, his captain charges him with
the prices on the company books. The paymaster deducts from his pay any
excess which he may have drawn, or allows him if he has drawn less than
he is entitled to. The clothing is much cheaper than articles of the
same quality at home. Thus, according to the present prices, a coat
costs $7.30; overcoat, $7.50; trowsers, $2.70; flannel shirt, $1.53;
stockings, 32 cents; shoes, $2.05.
The _commissary department_ provides exclusively the subsistence of the
troops. Each soldier is entitled to the following daily ration:
Twelve ounces of pork or bacon, or one pound four ounces of fresh
beef.
One pound six ounces of soft bread or flour, or one pound of hard
bread, or one pound four ounces of corn meal.
To every one hundred men, fifteen pounds of beans or peas, and ten
pounds of rice or hominy.
To every one hundred men, ten pounds of green coffee, or eight
pounds of roasted, or one pound and eight ounces of tea.
To every one hundred men, fifteen pounds of sugar, four quarts of
vinegar, one pound four ounces of candles, four pounds of soap,
three pounds twelve ounces of salt, four ounces of pepper, thirty
pounds of potatoes, when practicable, and one quart of molasses.
Fresh onions, beets, carrots, and turnips, when on hand, can be
issued in place of beans, peas, rice, or hominy, if the men desire.
They can also take in place of any part of the ration an amount
equal in value of dried apples, dried peaches, pickles, etc., when
on hand.
A whiskey ration of a gill per day per man can be issued on the order of
the commander, in cases of extra hardship. It is, however, rarely
issued, on account of the difficulty of finding room for its
transportation in any considerable quantities. Moreover, whiskey, in the
army, is subject to extraordinary and mysterious _leakages_, and an
issue can scarcely be made with such care that some drunkenness will not
ensue. When lying in camp, sutlers and others sell to the soldiers
contrary to law, so that old topers usually find methods of gratifying
their appetites--sometimes sacrificing a large proportion of their pay
to the villains who pander to them. The utmost vigilance of the officers
fails to detect the methods by which liquor is introduced into the army.
When a cask is broached in any secluded place, the intelligence seems
communicated by a pervading electrical current, and the men are seized
with a universal desire to leave camp for the purpose of washing, or
getting wood, or taking a walk, or other praise-worthy purposes.
The total weight of a ration is something over two pounds, but in
marching, some articles are omitted, and but a small quantity of salt
meat is carried--fresh beef being supplied from the herds of cattle
driven with the army. A bullock will afford about four hundred and fifty
rations, so that an army of one hundred thousand men needs over two
hundred cattle daily for its supply.
In camp the men can refrain from drawing portions of their rations, and
the surplus is allowed for by the commissaries in money, by which a
company fund can be created, and expended in the purchase of gloves,
gaiters, etc., or luxuries for the table. A hospital fund is formed in
the same way--by an allowance for the portions of the rations not
consumed by the patients--and is expended in articles adapted to diet
for the sick. The rations are ample and of good quality, though the salt
meat is rather tough occasionally, and the consistency of the hard bread
is shot-proof. Company cooks are allowed, and in camp they contrive to
furnish quite appetizing meals. Their position is rather difficult to
fill, and woe is the portion of the cook not competent for his
profession. The practical annoyances to which he is subject make him
realize to the fullest extent 'the unfathomable depths of human woe.' On
the march the men usually prefer to boil their coffee in tin cups, and
to cook their meat on ram-rods--without waiting for the more formal
movements of the cooks. To reach camp before sunset, after a twenty-mile
march, to pitch his little shelter tent, throw in it his heavy arms and
accoutrements, collect some pine twigs for a couch, wash in some
adjacent stream, drink his cup of hot, strong coffee, eat his salt pork
and hard bread, and then wrap himself in his blanket for a dreamless
slumber, is one of the most delicious combinations of luxurious
enjoyment a soldier knows. To-morrow, perhaps, he starts up at the early
_reveille_, takes his hasty breakfast, is marshalled into line before
the enemy, there is a shriek in the air rent by the murderous shell, and
the soldier's last march is ended.
The next department we shall consider is that of _ordnance_, which
supplies the munitions and portions of accoutrements.
The subject of _artillery_ is perhaps the most interesting of the great
number connected with warfare. In the popular estimation it overshadows
all others. All the poetry of war celebrates the grandeur of
'Those mortal engines whose rude throats
The immortal Jove's dread clamors counterfeit.'
The thunder of great guns and the dashing of cavalry are the incidents
which spontaneously present themselves to the mind when a battle is
mentioned. Perhaps the accounts of Waterloo are responsible for this.
The steady fighting of masses of infantry, having less particulars to
attract the imagination, is overlooked; the fact, preëminent above all
others in military science, that it is the infantry which contests and
decides battles, that artillery and cavalry are only subordinate
agencies--is forgotten. So splendid have been the inventions and
achievements of the last few years in respect to artillery, as
illustrated particularly at Charleston, that some excuse may easily be
found for the popular misconception. A few remarks presenting some
truths relative to the appropriate sphere of artillery and its powers,
and stating succinctly the results which have been accomplished, may be
found interesting.
Without entering into the history of artillery, it will be sufficient to
state that the peculiar distinguishing excellence of modern improvements
in cannon is the attainment of superior efficiency, accuracy, and
mobility, with a decrease in weight of metal. A gun of any given size is
now many times superior to one of the same size in use fifty or a
hundred years ago. It is not so much in _big guns_ that we excel our
predecessors--for there are many specimens of old cannon of great
dimensions; but by our advance in science we are able so to shape our
guns and our projectiles that with less weight of material we can throw
larger shot to a greater distance and with more accuracy. A long course
of mathematical experiment and calculation has determined the exact
pressure of a charge of powder at all points in the bore of a cannon
during its combustion and evolution into gas. These experiments have
proved that strength is principally required near the breech, and that a
cannon need not be of so great length as was formerly supposed to be
necessary. We are thus able to construct guns which can be handled,
throwing balls of several hundred pounds' weight. Another splendid
result of scientific investigation is the method adopted for casting
such monster guns. In order that the mass of metal may be of uniform
tenacity and character, it should cool equably. This has been secured by
a plan for introducing a stream of water through the core of the
casting, so that the metal cools both within and without simultaneously.
About the time that the Italian war commenced, the subject of rifled
cannon excited much popular interest. Exaggerated expectations were
formed of the changes to be produced by them in the art of warfare. Many
saw in them the means of abolishing war entirely. Of what use is it,
they said, to array armies against each other, if they can be destroyed
at two or three miles' distance? At the commencement of our own contest
there was an undue partiality for rifled ordnance. Almost every
commander of a battery desired to have rifled guns. The more correct
views of the thoroughly accomplished artillery officers to whom was
confided the arrangement of this branch of the service, and actual
experience, have dissipated the unfounded estimate of their utility for
field service, and established the proper proportions in an artillery
force which they should compose. It has been ascertained that fighting
will never be confined to long ranges--that guns which can throw large
volumes of spherical case and canister into lines only a few hundred
yards distant are as necessary as ever.
The necessity for rifled cannon arose from the perfection of rifled
muskets. When these arms reached such a degree of excellence that horses
and gunners could be shot down at a distance of one thousand yards, the
old-fashioned smooth-bore artillery was deprived of its prestige. To
retrieve this disadvantage and restore the superiority of artillery over
musketry in length of range, methods of rifling cannon for field service
became an important study. For assailing distant lines of troops, for
opening a battle, for dispersing bodies of cavalry, for shelling
intrenchments, for firing over troops from hills in their rear, rifled
guns are of invaluable service. But, notwithstanding troops are now
universally armed with muskets of long range, no battle of importance is
fought without close engagements of the lines. The alternate advances
and retreats of the infantry, firing at distances of less than one
hundred yards, charging with fixed bayonets and frantic shouts, will
always characterize any battle fought with vigor and enthusiasm. In such
conflicts, wide-mouthed smooth bores, belching their torrents of iron,
must play a conspicuous part.
Another fact, which will perhaps surprise the general reader, is that
the form and character of _projectiles_ have been matters of as much
difficulty, have received as much investigation, and are of as much
importance, as the shape and character of the guns. In fact, rifled
pieces would be comparatively ineffective except projectiles adapted to
them had been invented. It was necessary that projectiles of greater
weight, of less resistance to the atmosphere, and of more accuracy of
flight, than the old round shot, should be introduced. To accomplish
these ends several things were necessary: 1st, the projectiles should be
elongated; 2d, they should have conical points; 3d, the centre of
gravity should be at a proper distance in front of the centre; 4th,
there should be methods of _steering_ them so that they should always go
point foremost through the whole curve of their flight; 5th, they should
fit the gun so as to take the rifles, yet not so closely as to strain
it. To attain these and other requisites, innumerable plans have been
devised. The projectile offering the best normal conditions is the
_arrow_; it has length, a sharp point, centre of gravity near the head,
and feathers for guiding it (sometimes so arranged that it shall rotate
like a rifled ball). Improved projectiles, therefore, both for muskets
and cannon, correspond in these essentials to the first products of man
in the savage state.
We cannot, in this article, further discuss either such general
principles or those of a more abstruse character, in their application
to artillery, but will briefly state a few facts relative to its
employment--confining ourselves exclusively to the _field service_.
The guns now principally used for battles, in the Northern armies, are
10 and 12-pounder Parrotts, three-inch United States rifles, and light
12-pounder smooth bores. The distinguishing characteristic of the
Parrott guns is lightness of construction, secured by strengthening the
breech (in accordance with the principles mentioned a few paragraphs
back) with a band of wrought iron. This has been applied to guns of all
sizes, and its excellence has been tested by General Gillmore in the
reduction of Forts Pulaski and Sumter. The three-inch guns are made of
wrought iron, are of light weight, but exceedingly tenacious and
accurate. The 12-pounders, sometimes called Napoleons, are of bronze,
with large caliber, and used chiefly for throwing shell and canister at
comparatively short distances.
The greatest artillery conflict of the war (in the field) occurred at
Gettysburg. For two hours in the afternoon of the memorable third day's
battle, about four hundred cannon were filling the heavens with their
thunder, and sending their volleys of death crashing in all directions.
It was estimated that the discharges numbered five or six a second; in
fact, the ear could hardly detect any cessations in the roar. The air
was constantly howling as the shells swept through it, while the falling
of branches, cut from the trees by the furious missiles, seemed as if a
tornado was in the height of its fury: every few minutes, a thunder
heard above all other sounds, denoted the explosion of a caisson,
sweeping into destruction, with a cataract of fire and iron, men and
animals for hundreds of feet around it. The effect of such a fire of
artillery is, however, much less deadly than any except those who have
been subject to it can believe. The prevalent impression concerning the
relative destructiveness of cannon and musketry is another instance of
popular error. In the first place, all firing at over a mile distance
contains a large proportion of the elements of chance, for it is
impossible to get the range and to time the fuses so accurately as to
make any considerable percentage of the shots effective; and in the next
place, except when marching to a close conflict, the men are generally
protected by lying down behind inequalities of the ground, or other
accidental or designed defences. The proportion killed in any battle by
artillery fire is very small. Lines of men frequently lie exposed to
constant shelling for hours, with small loss; in fact, in such cases,
old soldiers will eat their rations, or smoke their pipes, or perhaps
have a game of poker, with great equanimity.
No portion of the military service has been more misrepresented than the
_medical department_. An opinion seems to prevail quite extensively that
the army surgeon is generally a young graduate, vain of his official
position, who cares little for the health of the soldier, and glories in
the opportunities afforded by a battle for reckless operations. Such an
opinion is altogether fallacious. In the regiments there are undoubtedly
many physicians who have adopted the service as a resource for a living
which they were unable to find at home, but the majority are exactly the
same class of professional men as those who pursue useful and honorable
careers in all our cities and villages. When a physician is called upon
at home, it happens in a majority of cases--as every honest member of
the profession will admit--that there is little or no necessity for his
services. Too sagacious to avow this, he gravely makes some simple
prescription, and as gravely pockets his fee. In camp, however, the
potent argument of the fee does not prevail, and men who run to the
doctor with trifling ailments, by which they hope to be relieved from
duty, receive a rebuff instead of a pill. They instantly write letters
complaining of his inhumanity. In regard to operations, it is a frequent
remark by the most experienced surgeons that lives are lost from the
hesitancy to amputate, more frequently than limbs are removed
unnecessarily.
The medical department of an army, like every other, is controlled by a
_system_, and it is this which regulates its connections with the
soldier more than the qualifications of individual surgeons. In the army
the _system_ takes care of everything, even to the minutest details.
Hygienic regulations for preserving the salubrity of camps and the
cleanliness of the troops and their tents, are prescribed and enforced.
Every day there is a 'sick call' at which men who find themselves ill
present themselves to the surgeons for treatment. If slightly affected,
they are taken care of in their own quarters; if more seriously, in the
regimental hospitals; if still more so, in the large hospitals
established by the chief medical officer of the corps; and if necessary,
sent to the Government hospitals established at various places in the
country. To the latter almost all the sick are transferred previous to a
march. To be ill in the army, amid the constant noises of a camp, and
with the non-luxurious appliances of a field hospital, is no very
pleasant matter; but the sick soldier receives all the attention and
accommodation possible under the circumstances.
To every corps is attached a train of ambulances, in the proportion of
two or three to a regiment. They are spring wagons with seats along the
sides, like an omnibus, which can, when necessary, be made to form a bed
for two or three persons. With each train is a number of wagons,
carrying tents, beds, medicine chests, etc., required for the
establishment of hospitals. On the march, the ambulances collect the
sick and exhausted who fall out from the columns and have a surgeon's
certificate as to their condition. When a battle is impending, and the
field of conflict fixed, the chief medical officers of the corps take
possession of houses and barns in the rear, collect hay and straw for
bedding, or, if more convenient, pitch the tents at proper localities. A
detail of surgeons is made to give the necessary attendance. While the
battle proceeds, the lightly wounded fall to the rear, and are there
temporarily treated by the surgeons who have accompanied the troops to
the field, and then find their way to the hospitals. If the fighting has
passed beyond the places where lie the more dangerously wounded, they
are brought to the rear by the 'stretcher bearers' attached to the
ambulance trains, and carried to the hospitals in the ambulances.
Sometimes it happens that the strife will rage for hours on nearly the
same spot, and it may be night before the 'stretcher bearers' can go out
and collect the wounded. But the surgeons make indefatigable exertions,
often exposed to great danger, to give their attention to those who
require it. At the best, war is terrible--all its 'pomp, pride, and
circumstance' disappear in the view of the wounded and dead on the
field, and of the mangled remnants of humanity in the hospitals. But
everything that can be devised and applied to mitigate its horrors is
provided under the systematized organization of the medical department.
In the Army of the Potomac, at least, and undoubtedly in all the other
armies of the North, that department combines skill, vigor, humanity,
and efficiency to an astonishing degree. Its results are exhibited not
only in the small mortality of the camps, but in the celerity of its
operation on the field of battle, and the great proportion of lives
preserved after the terrible wounds inflicted by deadly fragments of
shell and the still more deadly rifle bullet. Military surgery has
attained a degree of proficiency during the experiences of the past
three years which a layman cannot adequately describe; its results are,
however, palpable.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: Since that article was written, some changes of detail have
been made, but the principles remain the same.]
ÆNONE:
A TALE OF SLAVE LIFE IN ROME.
CHAPTER VIII.
Raising himself with an assumed air of careless indifference, in the
hope of thereby concealing the momentary weakness into which his better
feelings had so nearly betrayed him, Sergius strolled off, humming a
Gallic wine song. Ænone also rose; and, struggling to stifle her
emotion, confronted the new comer.
She, upon her part, stood silent and impassive, appearing to have heard
or seen nothing of what had transpired, and to have no thought in her
mind except the desire of fulfilling the duty which had brought her
thither. But Ænone knew that the most unobservant person, upon entering,
could not have failed at a glance to comprehend the whole import of the
scene--and that therefore any such studied pretence of ignorance was
superfluous. The attitude of the parties, the ill-disguised confusion of
Sergius, her own tears, which could not be at once entirely
repressed--all combined to tell a tale of recrimination, pleading, and
baffled confidence, as plainly as words could have spoken it. Apart,
therefore, from her disappointment at being interrupted at the very
moment when her hopes had whispered that the happiness of reconciliation
might be at hand, Ænone could not but feel indignant that Leta should
thus calmly stand before her with that pretence of innocent
unconsciousness.
'Why do you come hither? Who has demanded your presence?' Ænone cried,
now, in her indignation, caring but little what or how she spoke, or
what further revelations her actions might occasion, as long as so much
had already been exposed.
'My lady,' rejoined the Greek, raising her eyes with a well-executed air
of surprise, 'do I intrude? I came but to say that in the antechamber
there is--'
'Listen!' exclaimed Ænone, interrupting her, and taking her by the hand.
'Not an hour ago you told me about your quiet home in Samos--its green
vines--the blue mountains which encircled it--the little chamber where
your mother died, and in which you were born--and the lover whom you
left weeping at your cruel absence. You spoke of your affection for
every leaf and blade of grass about the place--and how you would give
your life itself to go back thither--yes, even your life, for you would
be content to lie down and die, if you could first return. Do you
remember?'
'Well, my lady?'
'Well, you shall return, as you desired. You have been given to me for
my own; and whether or not the gift be a full and free one, I will claim
my rights under it and set you free. In the first ship which sails from
Ostia for any port of Greece, in that ship you may depart. Are you
content, Leta?'
Still holding her by the hand, Ænone gazed inquiringly into the burning
black eyes which fastened themselves upon her own, as though reading the
bottom of her soul. She could not as yet believe that even if the Greek
had actually begun to cherish any love for Sergius, it could be more
than a passing fancy, engendered by foolish compliments or ill-judged
signs of admiration, and therefore she did not doubt that the offer of
freedom and restoration would be gratefully received. Her only
uncertainty was with regard to the manner in which it would be listened
to--whether with tears of joy or with loud protestations of gratitude
upon bended knees; or whether the prospect of once again visiting that
cottage home and all that had so long been held dear, would come with
such unpremeditated intensity as to stifle all outward manifestations of
delight, except, perhaps, that trembling of the lip or ebb and flow of
color which is so often the surest sign of a full and glowing heart.
For a moment Leta stood gazing up into the face of her mistress,
uttering no word of thanks, and with no tear of joy glistening in her
eye, but with the deepened flush of uncontrollable emotion overspreading
her features. And yet that flush seemed scarcely the token of a heart
overpowered with sudden joy, but rather of a mind conscious of being
involved in an unexpected dilemma, and puzzled with its inability to
extricate itself.
'My mistress,' she responded at length, with lowered gaze, 'it is true
that I said I would return, if possible, to that other home of mine. But
now that you offer me the gift, I would not desire to accept it. Let me
stay here with you.'
Ænone dropped the hand which till now she had held; and an agony of
mingled surprise, suspicion, disappointment, and presentiment of evil
swept across her features.
'Are you then become like all others?' she said with bitterness. 'Has
the canker of this Roman life already commenced to eat into your soul,
so that in future no memory of anything that is pure or good can attract
you from its hollow splendors? Are thoughts of home, of freedom, of
friends, even of the trusted lover of whom you spoke--are all these now
of no account, when weighed against a few gilded pleasures?'
'Why, indeed, should I care to return to that home?' responded the girl.
'Have not the Roman soldiers trodden down those vines and uprooted that
hearth? Is it a desolated and stricken home that I would care to see?'
'False--false!' cried Ænone, no longer regardful of her words, but only
anxious to give utterance--no matter how rashly--to the suspicions which
she had so long and painfully repressed. 'It is even more than the mere
charms of this imperial city which entice you. It is that you are my
enemy, and would stay here to sting the hand that was so truly anxious
to protect you--that for your own purposes you would watch about my
path, and ever, as now, play the spy upon my actions, and--'
'Nay, nay!' cried the Greek, her flashing eye and erect attitude in
strong contrast with the softened tone in which, more from habit than
from prudence, she had spoken. 'When have I played the spy upon you? Not
now, indeed, for I have come in, not believing that I was doing harm,
but simply because my duty has led me hither. I came to tell you that
there is a stranger--an old man--standing in the court below, and that
he craves audience with you. Is this a wrong thing for me to do? Were I
to forbear performance of this duty, would not my neglect insure me
punishment?'
Ænone answered not, but, by a strong effort, kept back the words that
she would have uttered. Still angry and crushed with the sense of being
deceived, and yet conscious that it was not a noble or dignified thing
to be in disputation with her own slave, and that there was, moreover,
the remote possibility that the girl was not her enemy, and might really
dread returning to a desolated and devastated home, what could she say
or do? And while she pondered the matter, the door again opened.
'And this is he of whom I spoke. Do you doubt me now?' exclaimed the
Greek, in a tone in which a shade of malicious triumph mingled with soft
reproach. And she moved away, and left the room, while Ænone, lifting
her eyes, saw her father standing before her.
'A plague take the wench who has just left you!' he muttered. 'Did she
not tell you that I was below? I sent word by her, and here she has left
me for half an hour kicking my heels together in the courtyard. And I
might have stayed there forever, if I had not of myself found my way up.
Even then, there were some who would have stopped me, deeming me,
perhaps, too rough in appearance to be allowed to ascend. But I told
them that there was a time when members of the house of Porthenus did
not wait in antechambers, but stood beside the consuls of the old
republic, and I touched the hilt of my dagger; and whether it was the
one argument or the other which prevailed, here I am.'
With a grim smile the centurion then threw himself down upon a settee
near the door, arranged as properly as possible the folds of his coarse
tunic, drew his belt round so as to show more in front his dagger with
richly embossed sheath--the sole article of courtly and ceremonious
attire in which he indulged--and endeavored to assume an easy and
imposing attitude. For an instant he gazed around the room, observantly
taking in its wealth of mosaic pavement, paintings, statuary, and vases.
Then, as he began to fear lest he might be yielding too much of his
pride before the overbearing influence of so much luxury, he
straightened himself up, gathered upon his features a hard and somewhat
contemptuous expression, and roughly exclaimed:
'Yes, by the gods, the Portheni lived with consuls and proconsuls long
before the house of Vanno began to rise from the dregs and become a
house at all. And the imperator knows it, and is jealous of the fact,
too, or else he would the better acknowledge it. What, now, is that?' he
added, pointing to the central fresco of the ceiling.
'It is--I know not for certain, my father--but I think--'
'Nay, but I know what it is. It is the old story of the three Vanni
overcoming the five Cimbri at the bridge of Athesis. No great matter,
nor so very long ago, even if it were true. But why did he not paint up,
instead, how the founder of the Portheni, with his single arm, slew the
ten Carthaginians under the aqueduct of Megara? Is not now your family
history a portion of his own? His jealousy prevented him, I suppose;
though I doubt not that, when in his cups with his high associates, he
often boasts of his connection with the house of Porthenus. And yet he
would let the only relic of the family starve before assisting him.'
Ænone stood as in a maze of confusion and uncertainty. Were the trials
of the day never to end? First her unsatisfactory strife and pleading
with her husband; then the undignified contest with her own slave into
which she had been betrayed; and now came this old man--her father, to
be sure--but so much the more mortifying to her, as his vulgarity,
querulous complaining, and insulting strictures were forced upon her
ears.
'Are you not comfortable? What more can he or I do for you?' she said,
with some impatience.
'Ay, ay; there it is,' growled the centurion. 'One person must have all
luxuries--paintings, silver, and the like; but if the other has only
mere comforts, an extra tunic, perhaps, or a spare bit of meat for a
dog, what more can he want? But I will tell you what you can do? And it
is not as a gift, I ask it. Poor and despised as he may be, no one can
say that the centurion Porthenus is a beggar. It is as a fair matter of
business that I offer it.'
'Well, my father?'
'It is this: I have two slaves, and can afford to keep only one of them,
particularly as but one can be of use to me. Will the imperator purchase
the other? I will give it for a fair price, and therefore no one can say
that I have asked for anything beyond a proper trade, with which either
side should be well satisfied.'
Ænone listened with a blush of shame for her father overspreading her
face. It did not occur to her that the slave rejected as useless could
be any other than the hunchback, whom her husband had bestowed upon the
centurion a few days before; and for the receiver to try to sell back a
gift to the giver was a depth of meanness for which no filial partiality
or affection could find an excuse.
'I will show him to you,' cried the centurion, losing a little of his
gruffness in his eagerness to effect a transaction, whereby, under the
thin guise of a simple trade, he could extort a benefit. 'I have brought
him with me, and left him below. You will see that he is of good
appearance, and that the imperator will be pleased and grateful to me
for the opportunity of possessing him.'
So saying, Porthenus strode to the head of the stairway, and issued his
commands in a stern voice, which made the vaulted ceilings of the palace
ring. A faint, weak response came up in answer, and in a moment the
slave entered the room.
'Is this the one of whom you spoke?' faltered Ænone, unable for the
moment to retain her self-possession as she beheld, not the angular,
wiry form of the hunchback, but the careworn and slim figure of Cleotos.
'I thought--indeed I thought that you spoke of the inferior of the two.'
'Ay, and so I do,' responded her father. 'Of what use to me can this man
be? The other one, indeed, is of tenfold value. There is no slave in
Rome like unto him for cleaning armor or sharpening a weapon, while to
run of an errand or manage any piece of business in which brains must
bear their part, I will trust him against the world. But as for this man
here, with his weak limbs and his simple face--do you know that I did
but set him to polish the rim of a shield, and in his awkwardness he let
it fall, and spoiled the surface as though a Jewish spear had stricken
it.'
Ænone remained silent, scarcely listening to the words of her father,
while, in a troubled manner, she again mentally ran over, as she had
done hundreds of times before, the chances of recognition by the man who
stood before her.
'But listen to me still further,' continued the centurion, fearful lest
his disparaging comments might defeat the projected sale. 'I only speak
of him as he is useful or not to me. To another person he would be most
valuable; for, though he cannot polish armor, he can polish verses, and
he can write as well as though he were educated for a scribe. For one
favored of fortune like the imperator Sergius Vanno,' and here again the
centurion began to roll the high-sounding name upon his tongue with
obvious relish, 'who wishes an attendant to carry his wine cup, or to
bear his cloak after him, or to trim his lamps, and read aloud his
favorite books, where could a better youth than this be found?'
Ænone, still overpowered by her troubled thoughts, made no response.
'Or to yourself,' eagerly continued the centurion, 'he would be most
suitable, with his pale, handsome face, and his slender limbs. Have you
a page?'
'I have my maidens,' was the answer.
'And that amounts to nothing at all,' asserted her father. 'A plebeian
can have her maidens in plenty, but it is not right that the wife of a
high and mighty imperator,' and here again the words rolled majestically
off his tongue, 'should not also have her male attendants. And the more
so when that wife has been taken from an ancient house like that of
Porthenus,' he added, with a frown in derogation of any tendency to give
undue importance to her present position. 'But with this Cleotos--come
forward, slave, and let yourself be seen.'