Diplomatic gifts were, and still are, a means through which to solidify bonds between different countries and express goodwill. Animals have long been particularly popular gifts, as they are often exotic to the receiving party and act as living, breathing reminders of the positive relationship between two peoples, even if this is to the detriment of the animal itself.
In 1824, the Ottoman viceroy of Egypt, Muhammad Ali, decided to gift giraffes to both George IV of England and Charles X of France. In order to ensure that the babies would survive in captivity, the Nubian giraffe calves were captured prior to weaning. To achieve this, Arab hunters took turns chasing down the mother, harassing her until she was exhausted enough that they could brutally kill her. The seized calves initially travelled for around ten days in a caravan with camels, from whom they nursed, before they embarked on a sailing boat in the city of Sennar. They then voyaged along the Nile until they reached Khartoum, before boarding a barge which would take them to Alexandria.
The giraffe destined for France, who would centuries later come to be known as Zarafa, reached Marseilles in October 1826. Along her journey, the giraffe had been accompanied by three Egyptian cows, who kept her nourished with their milk. This amounted to about six gallons, or over twenty litres, per day. When she was weaned, her diet then consisted of a mixture of corn, barley and ground broad beans, as well as a variety of leaves, such as black locust, cherry, linden, mimosa, yew and ash. She also had two human companions, an Egyptian named Hussan and a Sudanese man named Atir.
The group overwintered in Marseilles, with Zarafa staying in custom made stables. Upon her arrival, she was described in detail by the artist Phillipe Matherou,
Female, and about two years of age, she is the first living animal of this species to arrive in France. Her vertical height taken from the base of her hooves to the base of her horns or excrescences on the top of her head: three metres, forty-seven centimetres. The length of her head: fifty centimetres. Her body, her head and her horns are covered with short, fine hair … She kneels to rest, drink, and graze from the shorter grasses; she willingly grazes on buds and acacia leaves. She chews her cud. Her gait is an amble. Kicking with her forelegs is her main defence against aggressors. In fact, she is quite gentle in character, as her physiognomy suggests.
From Marseilles, the giraffe then faced the nearly 900 km walk to Paris, as it was deemed too dangerous to subject her to more boat travel. The Prefect of the Departement des Bouches-du-Rhone, Monsieur de Villeneuve-Bargemon, watched over Zarafa during her time in Marseilles and encouraged that she,
Be led to Paris via short daily walks. No other means appears preferable to me. Travelling by river, which I had initially considered, would present disadvantages linked with many difficulties, for in passing from one surface to another, she would run the risk of a fracture.
The naturalist Étienne Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, a professor of zoology who served as a scientist under Napoleon on his Egyptian campaign, was charged with overseeing her wellbeing throughout the trek. Walking at approximately two miles an hour, it took forty-one days for the group to reach Paris. To protect her from the inclement spring weather the group encountered along the way, the giraffe was dressed in a protective, two-piece waxed raincoat with a hood and buttons in the front. Along the way, the professor wrote to the authorities to keep them updated. The walk, though preferable to a voyage, was not without its dangers. In June of 1827, Saint-Hilaire wrote,
I have noticed that while bravely withstanding all the fatigue imposed upon her, she has felt its effects nonetheless. The cows are starting to tire; one of them, born in Egypt, is limping a little. The Giraffe herself had picked up a nail in the membranes that link the two hooves, it has been taken out in time and before the animal had begun to limp; I was very worried about this accident that fortunately has amounted to nothing. However, I cannot hide the fact that the trip has in its duration brought with it an overall fatigue, a discomfort in all the animal’s movements.
Crowds flocked to see the exotic animal as she walked, and, naturally, this caused her to panic. This was especially pronounced in Lyon, when her companion cows were moved away so that she could be surrounded by cavalrymen charged with keeping the spectators at bay. Without her normal bovine entourage and surrounded by excited strangers, Zarafa started to flee. Luckily, one of her guides had managed to keep a hold of her rope and calamity was narrowly avoided when he stopped her from bolting along the road or through the masses. Saint-Hilaire noted that the attention of the crowd tired the poor giraffe out more than the walking, so it was resolved that, after their near-miss, the group would bypass big cities and let the animal walk in peace.
This peace was shattered, of course, when she reached Paris. The giraffe was presented to Charles X with a triumphal procession, and the king was pleased when she ate some rose petals out of his hand. Thousands upon thousands of people came to see her the day after she arrived. Around her fenced yard within the Jardin des Plantes, crowds would gather and cheer, around 600,000 people in the first six months. In imitation of the king, the visitors would also give her flowers to eat, which, unfortunately, often led to Zarafa suffering from indigestion. This necessitated the erection of a sign which urged guests to refrain from giving the giraffe any more of their floral offerings.
Paris became obsessed with the giraffe, and her image was stamped on just about anything people could get their hands on. Children could have their own giraffe toys; smokers could light up using their Zarafa matchboxes or cut their cigars with giraffe-themed cutters. Vases, cups, tableware, jugs and terrines with her image filled kitchens and dining rooms. Bedding, armoires, lamps, wallpaper and candlesticks all became surfaces upon which to display her picture. Women wore their hair up in a giraffe-style hair bun adorned with ribbons, feathers and flowers. People wore a replica of the amulet that hung around Zarafa’s neck. “Giraffe belly” was even the season’s colour of choice, and spotted, giraffe-print fabric was turned into all kinds of fashionable clothing.
Zarafa’s popularity and economic effect did not translate into adequate provisions for her. In winter, the giraffe was lodged inside the Jardin’s rotunda. Her enclosure, insulated by straw, was cramped, so much so that she could barely move. Her companion cows lived with her, and her attendant, Atir, also slept in the enclosure’s mezzanine, able to reach over and scratch her head at night. The unnatural confines and deprivation from grazing caused the giraffe to display nervous behaviours, such as excessive licking and tongue lolling. Other animals came to join the giraffe in the Jardin as the years went on, including elephants and lions. Then, in 1839, another giraffe joined the menagerie, the first of Zarafa’s own kind that the naturally social animal had seen for nearly a decade and a half.
The mortality of zoo animals during this period was shocking, though Zarafa managed to adapt to her circumstances, even if she did not thrive in them. She acclimatised to Parisian temperatures and grew to a height of 5.8 metres. After the initial flurry of excitement, the crowds lost interest in the exotic animal, mostly leaving her in a welcome peace. Nonetheless, in her latter years, Zarafa seemed to suffer from ill health. She contracted tuberculosis, possibly from one of the cows she lived with, and her body weakened. She lost weight and was afflicted with fever until, in 1845, she died at the age of twenty, some ten years earlier than giraffes in the wild. Zarafa’s body was preserved through taxidermy and initially displayed in the foyer of the Jardin. She was donated in 1931 to the Museum of Natural History of La Rochelle, where she remains today.
A full account of Zarafa’s life and travels was written by Olivier LeBleu and translated by Cynthia T. Hahn. In the Footsteps of Zarafa, First Giraffe in France: A Chronicle of Giraffomania, 1826–1845 contains contemporary correspondence, scientific reports and media coverage from giraffe-enthused, nineteenth-century France.
The giraffe who walked across France
Diplomatic gifts were, and still are, a means through which to solidify bonds between different countries and express goodwill. Animals have long been particularly popular gifts, as they are often exotic to the receiving party and act as living, breathing reminders of the positive relationship between two peoples, even if this is to the detriment of the animal itself.
In 1824, the Ottoman viceroy of Egypt, Muhammad Ali, decided to gift giraffes to both George IV of England and Charles X of France. In order to ensure that the babies would survive in captivity, the Nubian giraffe calves were captured prior to weaning. To achieve this, Arab hunters took turns chasing down the mother, harassing her until she was exhausted enough that they could brutally kill her. The seized calves initially travelled for around ten days in a caravan with camels, from whom they nursed, before they embarked on a sailing boat in the city of Sennar. They then voyaged along the Nile until they reached Khartoum, before boarding a barge which would take them to Alexandria.
The giraffe destined for France, who would centuries later come to be known as Zarafa, reached Marseilles in October 1826. Along her journey, the giraffe had been accompanied by three Egyptian cows, who kept her nourished with their milk. This amounted to about six gallons, or over twenty litres, per day. When she was weaned, her diet then consisted of a mixture of corn, barley and ground broad beans, as well as a variety of leaves, such as black locust, cherry, linden, mimosa, yew and ash. She also had two human companions, an Egyptian named Hussan and a Sudanese man named Atir.
The group overwintered in Marseilles, with Zarafa staying in custom made stables. Upon her arrival, she was described in detail by the artist Phillipe Matherou,
Female, and about two years of age, she is the first living animal of this species to arrive in France. Her vertical height taken from the base of her hooves to the base of her horns or excrescences on the top of her head: three metres, forty-seven centimetres. The length of her head: fifty centimetres. Her body, her head and her horns are covered with short, fine hair … She kneels to rest, drink, and graze from the shorter grasses; she willingly grazes on buds and acacia leaves. She chews her cud. Her gait is an amble. Kicking with her forelegs is her main defence against aggressors. In fact, she is quite gentle in character, as her physiognomy suggests.
From Marseilles, the giraffe then faced the nearly 900 km walk to Paris, as it was deemed too dangerous to subject her to more boat travel. The Prefect of the Departement des Bouches-du-Rhone, Monsieur de Villeneuve-Bargemon, watched over Zarafa during her time in Marseilles and encouraged that she,
Be led to Paris via short daily walks. No other means appears preferable to me. Travelling by river, which I had initially considered, would present disadvantages linked with many difficulties, for in passing from one surface to another, she would run the risk of a fracture.
The naturalist Étienne Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, a professor of zoology who served as a scientist under Napoleon on his Egyptian campaign, was charged with overseeing her wellbeing throughout the trek. Walking at approximately two miles an hour, it took forty-one days for the group to reach Paris. To protect her from the inclement spring weather the group encountered along the way, the giraffe was dressed in a protective, two-piece waxed raincoat with a hood and buttons in the front. Along the way, the professor wrote to the authorities to keep them updated. The walk, though preferable to a voyage, was not without its dangers. In June of 1827, Saint-Hilaire wrote,
I have noticed that while bravely withstanding all the fatigue imposed upon her, she has felt its effects nonetheless. The cows are starting to tire; one of them, born in Egypt, is limping a little. The Giraffe herself had picked up a nail in the membranes that link the two hooves, it has been taken out in time and before the animal had begun to limp; I was very worried about this accident that fortunately has amounted to nothing. However, I cannot hide the fact that the trip has in its duration brought with it an overall fatigue, a discomfort in all the animal’s movements.
Crowds flocked to see the exotic animal as she walked, and, naturally, this caused her to panic. This was especially pronounced in Lyon, when her companion cows were moved away so that she could be surrounded by cavalrymen charged with keeping the spectators at bay. Without her normal bovine entourage and surrounded by excited strangers, Zarafa started to flee. Luckily, one of her guides had managed to keep a hold of her rope and calamity was narrowly avoided when he stopped her from bolting along the road or through the masses. Saint-Hilaire noted that the attention of the crowd tired the poor giraffe out more than the walking, so it was resolved that, after their near-miss, the group would bypass big cities and let the animal walk in peace.
This peace was shattered, of course, when she reached Paris. The giraffe was presented to Charles X with a triumphal procession, and the king was pleased when she ate some rose petals out of his hand. Thousands upon thousands of people came to see her the day after she arrived. Around her fenced yard within the Jardin des Plantes, crowds would gather and cheer, around 600,000 people in the first six months. In imitation of the king, the visitors would also give her flowers to eat, which, unfortunately, often led to Zarafa suffering from indigestion. This necessitated the erection of a sign which urged guests to refrain from giving the giraffe any more of their floral offerings.
Paris became obsessed with the giraffe, and her image was stamped on just about anything people could get their hands on. Children could have their own giraffe toys; smokers could light up using their Zarafa matchboxes or cut their cigars with giraffe-themed cutters. Vases, cups, tableware, jugs and terrines with her image filled kitchens and dining rooms. Bedding, armoires, lamps, wallpaper and candlesticks all became surfaces upon which to display her picture. Women wore their hair up in a giraffe-style hair bun adorned with ribbons, feathers and flowers. People wore a replica of the amulet that hung around Zarafa’s neck. “Giraffe belly” was even the season’s colour of choice, and spotted, giraffe-print fabric was turned into all kinds of fashionable clothing.
Zarafa’s popularity and economic effect did not translate into adequate provisions for her. In winter, the giraffe was lodged inside the Jardin’s rotunda. Her enclosure, insulated by straw, was cramped, so much so that she could barely move. Her companion cows lived with her, and her attendant, Atir, also slept in the enclosure’s mezzanine, able to reach over and scratch her head at night. The unnatural confines and deprivation from grazing caused the giraffe to display nervous behaviours, such as excessive licking and tongue lolling. Other animals came to join the giraffe in the Jardin as the years went on, including elephants and lions. Then, in 1839, another giraffe joined the menagerie, the first of Zarafa’s own kind that the naturally social animal had seen for nearly a decade and a half.
The mortality of zoo animals during this period was shocking, though Zarafa managed to adapt to her circumstances, even if she did not thrive in them. She acclimatised to Parisian temperatures and grew to a height of 5.8 metres. After the initial flurry of excitement, the crowds lost interest in the exotic animal, mostly leaving her in a welcome peace. Nonetheless, in her latter years, Zarafa seemed to suffer from ill health. She contracted tuberculosis, possibly from one of the cows she lived with, and her body weakened. She lost weight and was afflicted with fever until, in 1845, she died at the age of twenty, some ten years earlier than giraffes in the wild. Zarafa’s body was preserved through taxidermy and initially displayed in the foyer of the Jardin. She was donated in 1931 to the Museum of Natural History of La Rochelle, where she remains today.
A full account of Zarafa’s life and travels was written by Olivier LeBleu and translated by Cynthia T. Hahn. In the Footsteps of Zarafa, First Giraffe in France: A Chronicle of Giraffomania, 1826–1845 contains contemporary correspondence, scientific reports and media coverage from giraffe-enthused, nineteenth-century France.
Elizabeth Burrell
