Red, White, Blue Socks, Part First Being the First Book — Background and Themes

ONE bright afternoon last summer, about two weeks after the dreadful battle of Bull Run, Freddy Jourdain burst open the door of his mother's room and rushed in, exclaiming: "Jolly, mother! such fun! What _do_ you think the boys in our school are going to do?"

"Why what?" asked his mother.

"Yes, I should really like to know why you come tearing up stairs yelling like forty steam engines!" added his sister Bella, who was rather a particular young lady.

"Well," began Freddy, looking very important, "I'll _try_ to explain, but I don't believe _you women_ can understand about _us boys_!"

"After that speech I think you had better explain," said Bella, "if you're not in want of a thimble pie on your knuckles."

"Well, then," cried Freddy, with sparkling eyes, "the boys at our school are all _square_ against that old Jeff. Davis, and in recess yesterday, we concluded that we ought to go and help shoot the Southerners. So we've organized a regiment, and I'm chosen Colonel; and I'm going to take my regiment to camp on Monday, that is, if you'll let me. Mayn't I, mother? It's such fun, and Tom Pringle's given me such a jolly popgun! Hurrah for Jackson and the Stars and Stripes!" So saying, Freddy cut a caper in the air, that made about forty "chaney alleys," "stony alleys," "glass agates," and "middles," pop out of his satchel, which was slung over one shoulder, and roll into all the corners of the room.

"Where is your encampment to be?" said his mother, as gravely as she could.

"Oh, down on Mr. Schermerhorn's place at Astoria. Peter Schermerhorn told us to-day that his father was willing we should have it there, and has invited us all to come and stay a whole week. We're to live in _real tents_!" (here Freddy couldn't help cutting another caper,) "and cook our own dinners, and--oh, mother, mayn't I go? say!"

"I do not think of any objection at present," replied Mrs. Jourdain, "but you must wait until your father comes home, and hear what he has to say. It was very kind of Mr. Schermerhorn to invite you all, but I am afraid he will be driven distracted with such a number of harem-scarem boys running about his place."

At this moment Joseph, the black waiter, knocked at the door, and announced, with an air of high-flown elegance, that "Major Schermerhorn was in the _drawing salon_ (which he considered the purest Parisian French for front parlor), and desired to see Col. Jourdain;" and our young friend was off like a shot, Joseph following at a dignified pace.

Joseph, like most other colored servants in New York, was a person of the highest fashion, according to his own notions. No short words for _him_, I can tell you. I remember well the first time I called upon his mistress, I inquired, "Does Mrs. Jourdain live here?" and Joseph, drawing himself up with an air of superior refinement, replied, "Mrs. Jourdain _resides_ here, madam." At dinner parties, when he waited upon table, he was the most dignified person present, and held his head up so high that he looked as if it would shortly go through the chandelier. He was always dressed in the finest broadcloth and patent leather, his black face and white necktie presenting an admirable contrast, while he used all the five cornered words in the dictionary in replying to any question, and always handed the dishes to the ladies with a flourish of the most astonishing character.

Now, if I tell you a secret, you must promise not to let any one know it. Freddy's parents live in the Fifth avenue above Madison Square, in the city of New York. His father is a rich man, and Freddy, a bright, manly lad, between thirteen and fourteen at the time I am writing about, and the only son, is a good deal indulged. But don't think he ever abuses the kindness of his loving papa and mamma; no--although he is full of noise, fun, and innocent mischief, he is a good, obedient little fellow--and that is why they love to do all they can to make him happy. But you must not tell that I said where he lives.

When Mr. Jourdain came home that evening, Freddy, of course, began to tell him the first thing, about the regiment and Mr. Schermerhorn's delightful invitation. You may be sure he gave a full-length description of the pleasures of camp life, as retailed by Peter to an enthusiastic audience at recess; and backed up his request to go by such powerful pleas of sparkling, eager eyes, flushed, happy face, and irresistible, dimpling smile, that the hardest-hearted papa in existence would have said "yes." Mr. Jourdain, being anything but hard-hearted, readily consented, as he was intimately acquainted with Mr. Schermerhorn and family, and knew there was no fear on a private place of their meeting with danger, or getting into trouble.

Then his father went on to ask a great many questions about the regiment, how many boys belonged to it, what their sizes were, and where they lived; all of which Freddy delightedly answered, and kept up a continuous chattering until a quarter past nine, which, being his bed time, he was reluctantly obliged to trot up stairs.

After he was fairly out of the room, his father and mother had a long consultation, which resulted next day in Mr. Jourdain's paying a visit to "Brooks Brothers," the tailors in Broadway, and afterward going to a certain store in Maiden Lane, which had all manner of toy knapsacks and guns in the window. What could he have gone there for, I wonder? and then betaken himself to the police station in B---- street? Really, it seems very mysterious, but wait a little, and you'll see.

Meanwhile Freddy, with his satchel hanging down his back to look as much like a knapsack as possible, marched off to school bright and early; whistling the "Star-spangled Banner" as he went along, and looking with the utmost pity upon strange boys, who hadn't the honor of belonging to his glorious regiment, the "Dashahed Zouaves," as his father had advised him to name it.

He reached Dr. Larned's academy just as Peter, Harry, and half a dozen others were going in. They greeted him directly with a shout of "Well, Fred, what does your father say?"

"Oh, I'm to go!" cried Freddy, "I say, fellows, what do you think of the Dashahed Zouaves for a name?"

"That's splendid! capital!" was the cry of the party. I am afraid I must add that Peter said "that's _gay_!"

There was no time to talk now, however, for it was full nine o'clock; so the boys, hanging up their hats in the hall, entered the school room, and prayers over, the lessons began.

But who could be very attentive to his _ante_-cedents, or _uncle_-cedents either, when, in three days, the _se_-cedents were to be utterly routed by the Dashahed Zouaves? The boys were so full of chuckle and bounce, that, I'm afraid, poor Dr. Larned would have become cracked and crazy, if he hadn't reflected that the holidays and Fourth of July, or, as Peter called it, "the Fourth of Ju-New Year's" were coming, and that probably the state of things was owing to those important facts.

The recitations on that memorable Friday, however, were something wonderful, sure enough. For instance, the lesson in geography was about China. The doctor asked a boy, "Where is Shanghai situated?" and he replied, "On Long Island, about two miles from Astoria landing!--that is," and there he stopped, looking as awkward and silly as a Shanghai chicken.

"Won't do, sir," said the doctor, in a grave tone, "you must study the lesson over again, and go down one;" and down he had to go, feeling rather flat.

Then the doctor asked Freddy what the principal manufactures were, and he answered, "Tea, porcelain, silk, and Zouave drill--no, no, the other kind of drill! dear me, what do I mean?"

"I cannot imagine," returned Doctor Larned, in a severe tone, but with a little bit of a smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. "You appear to be thinking of anything but your lessons, young gentlemen--but as it is the last day of school, I excuse you. We will have recess earlier than usual, and see if we cannot do better afterward."

So saying, he opened the door leading from the school room to his private study, and went in; while the boys, luncheon in hand, ran to the playground.

"The playground," as it was called, was the large yard attached to the house, which had been fitted up with a few simple gymnastic contrivances, and formed a capital place where the boys might amuse themselves in fine weather. Down they sat, and for a few moments were so busy trying who could take the biggest semicircular bite out of a slice of bread and butter that nobody spoke a word. At last Freddy commenced, by calling out,

"Silence in the guard tent! the Colonel's going to speak!" cried Peter, making a new version of the old school saying.

"Don't you know all the real Zouaves have their hair cut as short as anything? and just look at mine!" and Freddy tossed back his silky, golden curls in high disgust.

"Fellows, _it must be done_! We must have that hair off, short order!" continued the Colonel, solemnly.

"Well," exclaimed George Chadwick, who was the oldest of the party, and would certainly have been Colonel if Freddy had not been prime favorite with everybody, "Don't you see how we can manage that?"

"Why, how?" was the general question.

"Just you wait a moment," replied the inventor, and he put for the house in double quick time, whence he presently returned with an immense pair of scissors, which he had borrowed of the cook.

"Now, then, who'll be scissorized first?"

"I! I! I!" cried a chorus of voices.

"Can't do every one at once; come, Freddy, you're the commander-in-chief, suppose you set the example."

"Here goes, then!" exclaimed Freddy; and down he sat on the spring board.

Snip! went the long scissors, and off came a beautiful curl. Snap! more demolition on the other side, and in five minutes such a worn-out old scrubbing brush as his head looked like, never was seen anywhere, even on a Zouave; George, of course, running out his tongue so far at every snip of the scissors, that it was a mercy it didn't get cut off, too.

"Jolly! what a fright you look!" shouted Peter. "I say Freddy, I expect you'll scare General Beauregard into the cholera the first time he sees you. Now, then, it's my turn; fire away old chap!"

My conscience! what hair cutting that was! Some parts were scratched nearly bald, while in others, little bunches of hair were left standing up like stubble in an autumn cornfield. Their heads looked as if they had been gnawed by the mice or dug up in spots by the roots; and I am sure their own mammas would scarcely have known them again.

"Come, number three's turn now!" exclaimed George, flourishing his scissors.

"No, I don't know about that," put in Tom Pringle, who was the most thoughtful of the party, "I guess I'd rather see what my mother thinks before I have _my_ hair cut off."

This speech caused the rest of the regiment to think of something which hadn't struck them before, namely what _their_ mothers would say on the subject of Zouave hair dressing, and as George began to be a little frightened by this time, at the fearful and astonishing results of his patent plan, it was decided to defer the rest of the operation until another time.

But the amazement of Dr. Larned, when he beheld his pupils in such a condition, was beyond everything.

"Why, Peter! Freddy! what have you been doing?" he exclaimed, raising his hands, and pushing his spectacles to the top of his forehead, to look at them better.

"Oh, only getting our hair cut in the Zouave pattern," said Peter, as cool as a cucumber. "Don't you know, Doctor, that we've organized a regiment?"

"Organized a regiment!" repeated the doctor, his spectacles almost falling off with astonishment.

"Yes, sir, the Dashahed Zouaves; haven't you heard of them?"

"Is there any end to the mischief of boys?" exclaimed the doctor; "If such things had happened in my young days, our old master, Dr. Birchemwell, would have verified his name even oftener than he did. I do not know what your mothers will say when they see such a couple of scarecrows; but come, we have wasted quite time enough; lessons! lessons!"

And to the credit of the boys, be it said, they really did set to work like good fellows, recited the unlucky geography lesson without a single mistake, ciphered like perfect calculating machines, and had the pleasure of hearing Dr. Larned say, as they shook hands for good-bye, "Really, young gentlemen, you have done very well--very well, indeed; so now good-bye, and pleasant holidays!"

MONDAY morning at last! and a bright, beautiful day. The sky was as blue as possible; the sun shone so brightly that it seemed as though it must have been polished up for the occasion, and Colonel Freddy, as soon as he awoke, could not help giving a little shout of joy.

But what was that right opposite his bed? A large wooden box, with "Colonel Jourdain, Dashahed Zouaves, First Regiment L. I. Volunteers," painted on the lid in great black letters.

Up jumped the new Colonel quicker than any grasshopper, rushed to the mysterious box, and raised the lid. Lying on top was a letter at least six inches square, directed like the box, and closed with a great red seal. Underneath _that_ was--what do you think? A splendid uniform for a Colonel of Zouaves! sword, cap, and epaulettes, complete!

Freddy's eyes and mouth opened to their widest compass, as he stared at the box, too much surprised to move. Presently his father came in, looking highly amused.

"Good morning, Colonel," he began.

"Oh, father!" interrupted Freddy, finding his tongue at last, "do look here! Did you ever see anything so splendid in your life? Where _did_ they come from?"

"Perhaps the letter will tell you," was all his father would say.

Freddy snatched up the big letter, broke the seal, and with sparkling eyes read the following.

NEW YORK, _July --th, 1861_. MY DEAR SON:

In consideration of your heroic determination to enter the army in the service of your country, and seeing how nobly you have prepared to engage in the contest by making your hair look as if it had been driven in or pulled out, I have thought best to present you with this uniform to whip the Southerners in; a suit of which I have also sent to every _man_ in your regiment. As I entertain scarcely a doubt that Old Abe will shortly summon you to start down South to Dixie, I hope that you will have a brave regiment, a pleasant encampment, and a first-rate time. And that, in later years, should it be necessary, you will _truly_ distinguish yourself, through God's assistance, under the banner of our country, and stand up in the field in the cause of Truth and Justice, is the sincere wish of

Your affectionate Father, L. JOURDAIN.

Freddy was delighted at this letter, with its mingled playfulness and sincere patriotism. With all his fun, he was uncommonly intelligent, and understood and appreciated many things which far older boys might have failed to comprehend; and now his splendid blue eyes were raised to his father's face, flashing with real enthusiasm; he felt and looked at that moment, like his noble French ancestors, a born soldier.

But the serious mood was soon displaced by a fresh access of glee.

"Oh, thank you, papa!" he cried, "how very kind of you! How surprised the boys will be! Hurrah! what a jolly time we shall have! and do you think the President will really send for us? He will be a perfect jay-bird of a President if he does!"

"No doubt he will be highly desirous to secure the services of the gallant Dashahed Zouaves," replied his father, laughing; "but make haste now, Fred, it's nearly breakfast time." So saying, he left the room.

Of course, the new clothes had to go on directly; and first my young soldier donned a pair of remarkably baggy red trowsers, which looked as if they had a connection with the Manhattan Gas Company like a new sort of balloon, they were so puffy; and a pair of leather gaiters reaching from the calf of the leg to the ancle. Then came a most splendid bluejacket, covered in every direction with gold lace, a killing little ruffled shirt, and a flourishing blue sash. Perched on top of his head, where his hair had been the day before, was a red fez with a long blue tassel, and, to crown all, or, I might say, _cutting-out_ everything else, was a splendid sword, as bright as silver, with a terribly sharp-looking edge, and an elegant gold handle.

When he was all dressed, he ran down stairs and found, on entering the dining room, that he was the only one there. A large mirror was over the mantel, which reflected the handsome room, with its deep bay window, filled with flowers, its sideboard, loaded with massive plate, and the breakfast table, covered with its snowy cloth, and nice beefsteak, muffins, and coffee, looking so tempting to hungry folks.

Freddy's eye fell on the mirror, and a new idea came into his head. "Hurrah! here's a capital chance to see how I look from head to foot," he thought; so, without remembering the long pier glasses in the parlor, he dragged his father's arm chair in front of the fireplace, and, jumping on the seat, stood turning and twisting about, staring at himself all the time, and quite put out at not being able to see the whole of his back at once. Finally he concluded his performance by striking a tremendous attitude, with his legs as far apart as the chair would permit, his sword in the air, and such a ferocious scowl on his face, that it was a mercy his brows didn't get tied up in a double bow knot then and there.

All at once there was a little laugh in the direction of the door. Freddy wheeled round, and there were papa, mamma, and Bella looking on, and trying hard to keep in the laughter!

Down scrambled Colonel Freddy from his perch, blushing up to the very roots of his hair. There wasn't much more than the roots left, to be sure; but his father laid his hand on the epauletted shoulder with a good-natured, "Never mind, old fellow, you look fine enough to justify a little personal reflection."

Hardly had Freddy taken his place at the table, and his father asked a blessing, than there came such a tremendous ring at the bell, that they thought the President must have come to town to see the regiment off on its travels; but, instead of Old Abe, Major Peter Schermerhorn (who passed the week with an aunt in town, and only went down to Astoria on Saturdays) popped into the room. He was dressed, like Freddy, in a bran new Zouave suit, and the very first thing he said was, "Oh, Fred! only see what I found in my room this morning;" and Peter stood on one leg, and twirled round to show off his new clothes.

"So did I in mine!" said Freddy.

"Where could they have come from?" continued Peter. "I asked Aunt Edith, and all she would tell me was that the box was sent last night, from a friend. Have you any idea, Fred?"

Freddy burst out laughing. "They came from a good fairy," he said, "and there he is!" and he pointed to his father, who pretended not to hear.

"Hurrah for Mr. Jourdain!" shouted Peter, tossing his cap in the air.

"Will you have some breakfast, Peter?" asked Mrs. Jourdain.

"Thank you, ma'am, I had my breakfast before I started, all alone by myself--but," looking at the nice beefsteak, "I think I _could_ eat a little more."

"How many apples, by the way Peter?" asked Bella, mischievously.

"Only two," he answered, quite seriously, "and a piece of taffy, and two cents' worth of peanuts! that's all, I think; no, a cent's worth of ice cream!"

"Of ice cream!" exclaimed Bella, "where can you get ice cream for a cent?"