So much interest and admiration exist at the present time in and for this remarkable body of men, that we deem it not amiss to lay before our readers our idea of their characteristics and feats.
The recipe for manufacturing a Zouave is as follows: Take an ordinary man, the smaller the better ; cultivate long hair, unlimited moustachios, if at possible, bright red, placing upon the back of his head a cap something the shape of a saucepan, a brighter shade of red than the hair, with an extensive blue tassel.; envelope him in a blue bag with two other blue bags for sleeves, and presto! you have his jacket; then take two large red bags brighter red than the cap, and you at once have him breeched; you then keep continually winding blue sash around his waist until physical exhaustion compels you to cease your efforts, when clapping on a very tight pair-of white gaiters just below the very loose pair of red breeches, lo’! you have a first-rate Zouave.
We confess to being somewhat skeptical on the subject of Zouaves, believing that their popularity is based principally upon the fact that they perform the everyday functions of life, even to the killing of their fellow creatures, in a manner peculiar to themselves; and as mankind is ever enamored of novelty, the apothgem has been generally adopted that what is new must be superior.
It is universally believed that the men composing these regiments sit with more comfort on the point of their bayonet than if they were reposing in an armed chair, that they cross rivers in the same ingenious way practiced by the monkeys of South America, and that to shoot a man in action it is absolutely necessary that they should load and fire in a series of summersaults. Rumor boldly asserts that they carry their provisions and all their little store of worldly goods in their pantaloons, and that they invariably sleep with one eye open, ready at any moment to rise in a hop, skip and jump, and slaughter any quantity of their enemies.
We ourselves look upon them in perhaps not so romantic a light, but one in which, we think, we are borne out by facts. They are unquestionably brave and good soldiers, dispensing wherever they may go an odor of garlic, intermixed with the stale fumes of cigarrettes; and if, perhaps, after a campaign, on their return home they do swagger a bit and set their caps jauntily awry to catch the hearts of pretty soubrettes or smiling grisettes, this little affectation is surely pardonable, and is by no means confined to the French service. One characteristic they certainly possess, which, however, they share with the whole French army, and which is found in that nation alone. ‘We allude to the fixed determination to amuse themselves and those around them, which they evince at all times and under all circumstances.
It has been observed that in the various settlements on this continent the first building erected by the Spaniards was a church, by the English an inn, while the French would immediately put up a theater, and when that was finished, looked to the comforts of life, leaving the soul to take care of itself until they had more leisure to attend to it. Thus it was at the siege of Sebastopol; and while the British soldiers clustered around the camp fire taking in silence their “drop o’ beer,” the Zouaves had built the Theatre d’ Innermann, and were nightly enlivening their comrades with those sprightly little vaudevilles, which are so keenly enjoyed by every Frenchman.
A part of this corps of artist Zouaves are now playing an engagement at one of the theaters in this city, and so remarkably clever are their performances that we cannot but imagine that they must have been actors previous to their undertaking a military roles. The vaudevilles and little comedies they have appeared in have been given with an esprit seldom seen on any stage, although we cannot see much to admire in their final scene, which is intended to show the Zouave manner of fighting, the counterpart of which may be seen at any time at the Bowery theater during the production of a military melo drama. We have no doubt but that it is a very true picture, and it all the more confirms us in our opinion that they are a very fine body of men, but that the summersaults, etc., are a pleasantly romantic fiction.
One point in their programme is noticeable. In giving the names of the artistse—after enamerating those that were left dead on the field of glory—each man’s services and the wounds he has received are mentioned. In looking down this list, we come across Zouave Helu, “shot in the neck.” We pause for information. Why should this be mentioned when it may injure the young man. We know of many of our highly respectable citizens who frequently get “shot in the neck,” but then, though they may mention it the next morning to their companions, they do not through the public prints inform an anxious public of the fact. We want to know if that shot was ever extracted; if it passed between his teeth, and whether it was received at the hands of a “cobbler,” or sent from a “sling.” Again, we pause for a reply.
New Orleans Daily Crescent, New Orleans, LA