Miscellaneous Studies; a series of essaysPater, Walter
Philosophy
Miscellaneous Studies; a series of essays
Pater, Walter
Essays
Themselves only could have told the details--the intensely pleasant,
the glorious sense of movement renewed once more; of defiance, just for
once, of a seemingly stupid control; their dismay at finding their
company led forward by others, their own posts deserted, their handful
of men--nowhere!
In an ordinary trial at law, the motives, every detail of so irregular
an act might have been weighed, changing the colour of it. Their
general character would have told in their favour, but actually told
against them now; they had but won an exceptional trust to betray it.
Martial courts exist not for consideration, but for vivid exemplary
effect and prompt punishment. "There is a kind of tribunal incidental
[235] to service in the field," writes another diarist, who may tell in
his own words what remains to be told. "This court," he says, "may
consist of three staff-officers only, but has the power of sentencing
to death. On the --st two young officers of the --th regiment, in whom
it appears unusual confidence had been placed, were brought before this
court, on the charge of desertion and wantonly exposing their company
to danger. They were found guilty, and the proper penalty death, to be
inflicted next morning before the regiment marches. The delinquents
were understood to have appealed to a general court-martial;
desperately at last, to 'the judgment of their country'; but were held
to have no locus standi whatever for an appeal under the actual
circumstances. As a civilian I cannot but doubt the justice, whatever
may be thought of the expediency, of such a summary process in regard
to the capital penalty. The regiment to which the culprits belonged,
with some others, was quartered for the night in the faubourg of Saint
--, recently under blockade by a portion of our forces. I was awoke at
daybreak by the sound of marching. The morning was a particularly
clear one, though, as the sun was not yet risen, it looked grey and sad
along the empty street, up which a party of grey soldiers were passing
with steady pace. I knew for what purpose.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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