At Paris, where all eccentricities are found, and even encouraged, one
of the latest gastronomic innovations is the use of horse-flesh. The
French are always adding to their dietetic regimen by introducing new
articles of food. This social phenomenon of making the horse contribute
to the nourishment of the human race, is not altogether new. The
ancient Germans and Scandinavians had a marked liking for horse-flesh.
The nomade tribes of Northern Asia make horse-flesh their favorite
food. It has long been authorized and publicly sold in Copenhagen.
With the high ruling prices of butcher’s meat, what think you,
gentlemen and housekeepers, of horse-flesh as a substitute for beef
and mutton? Are you innocently ignorant of the French treatise of that
eminent naturalist and professor of zoology, M. St. Hilaire, upon horse
for food? Banquets of horse-flesh are at present the rage in Paris,
Toulouse, and Berlin. The veterinary schools there pronounce horse-bone
soup preferable beyond measure to the old-fashioned beef-bone liquid,
and much more economical.
Horse-flesh steak without sauce, and cold, is cited as a morsel
superior to the finest game that flies! and cut, too, from a horse
nearly a quarter of a century old; one of the labouring cavalry kind
who pranced at the sound of the trumpet, and snuffed the battle
from afar off, little dreaming he was doomed to steaks, soup, and
washing-day hashes. Horse-flesh pie, too, eaten cold, is a dainty now
at Berlin and Toulouse, and boiled horse, _rechauffé_, has usurped the
place of ragouts and secondary dishes! What a theme, hippophology,
to write upon. We shall soon hear in our city dining rooms, ‘A piece
o’ horse, my kingdom for a piece of horse!’ ‘Waiter! a cut from the
fore-shoulder, well done.’ ‘A horse sandwich and ale, and the morning
paper.’ Our witty friend _Punch_ had its horse-laugh recently upon
the subject of the sensation this movement has created in equestrian
circles.
A Frenchman, observes a recent writer, was one day remonstrating
against the contempt expressed by Englishmen for French beef, the
inferiority of which he would not admit. ‘I have been two times in
England,’ said he, ‘but I nevere find the beef so supérieur to ours.
I find it vary convenient that they bring it you on leetle pieces of
stick for one penny, but I do not find the beef supérieur.’ ‘Good
gracious!’ exclaimed the Englishman, ‘you have been eating cats’ meat
for beef.’ What this Frenchman did in the innocence of his heart, his
countrymen now do, it seems, with _malice prepense_.
And a Frenchman of considerable reputation, in a letter on alimentary
substances, and especially upon the flesh of the horse, calls upon
the whole world to put aside, what he considers, an ancient and
absurd prejudice, and to realize at home that famous sentence in the
geography we used to read at school, which, under the head of Norway,
informed us ‘horse-flesh is publicly sold in the markets.’
‘M. Isidore St. Hilaire is very serious. He does not merely advocate
the fillet of horse-flesh--the mare soup and fricasseed colt--in
sarcastic allusion to the practice of Parisian restaurants. He comes
gravely forward, with chapters of scientific evidence and argument, to
contend that, while animal food is absolutely necessary to the proper
nourishment of the human race, millions of Frenchmen eat no animal
food, and every year millions of pounds of excellent meat are wasted.
He knows how the cause he advocates lends itself to ridicule--he
knows how difficult it has always been to get rid of a prejudice--he
knows the fate of innovators; but, though a Frenchman, he braves
ridicule, brings a heavy battery of facts to destroy what he deems
a prejudice, and is already experiencing some of the triumph which
follows a hard-won victory. For seven years he has been advocating the
desirableness of eating horse-flesh--for seven or eight years he has
been collecting evidence and gaining converts--and now he feels strong
enough to appeal to the European public in a small volume.[9]
‘Since then, Germany has had its ‘Banquets of Horse-flesh’ for the
wits to ridicule--public feastings at which ‘cats’ meat’ was served
in various forms, as soup, as bouilli, as fillet, as cutlet; and
all the feasters left the table converted hippophagists. In 1841,
horse-flesh was adopted at Ochsenhausen and Wurtemburg, where it is
now publicly sold under the surveillance of the police. Every week five
or six horses are brought to market. At the Lake of Constance, a large
quantity of this meat is also sold. In 1842, a banquet of 150 persons
inaugurated its public use at Königsbaden, near Stuttgard. In 1846, the
police of Baden authorized its public sale, and Schaffhausen followed
in the same year. In 1847, at Detmold and at Weimar, public horse-flesh
banquets were held with great _éclat_--in Karlsbad (Bohemia) and its
environs, the new beef came into general use--and at Zittau, 200 horses
are eaten annually. At Ling, after one of these banquets, the police
permitted the sale of horse-flesh, which is now general in Austria,
Bohemia, Saxony, Hanover, Switzerland, and Belgium. The innovation made
rapid converts. In 1853, Berlin had no less than five _abattoirs_,
where 150 horses were killed and sold. At Vienna, in 1853, there was a
riot to prevent one of these banquets; but in 1854, such progress had
been made, that 32,000 pounds weight were sold in fifteen days, and at
least 10,000 of the inhabitants habitually ate horse-flesh.’ And now
Parisian banquets of horse-flesh are common.
These facts are at all events curious. Think of the prejudices to be
overcome, and think how unreasoning is the stomach!
Young horses are too valuable to be brought to the shambles, unless
killed by accident. But our worn-out hacks, of which 250 or 300 die or
are killed weekly in the metropolis,--old horses used up, are capable,
we are assured, of furnishing good meat. An old horse, which had done
duty for twenty-five years, was the substance of a learned gastronomic
feast at Paris.
M. St. Hilaire, the champion of this new addition to our food
resources, reasons in this fashion:--‘Horse-flesh has long been
regarded as of a sweetish disagreeable taste, very tough, and not to
be eaten without difficulty. So many different facts are opposed to
this prejudice, that it is impossible not to recognize its slight
foundation. The free or wild horse is hunted as game in all parts of
the world where it exists--Asia, Africa, and America--and formerly,
and perhaps even now, in Europe. The domestic horse itself is made
use of as alimentary as well as auxiliary--in some cases altogether
alimentary--in Africa, America, Asia, and in some parts of Europe.
‘Its flesh is relished by people the most different in their manner of
life, and of races the most diverse, negro, Mongol, Malay, American,
Caucasian. It was much esteemed up to the eighth century among the
ancestors of some of the greatest nations of Western Europe, who
had it in general use, and gave it up with regret. Soldiers to whom
it has been served out, and people in towns who have bought it in
markets, have frequently taken it for beef. Still more often, and
indeed habitually, it has been sold in restaurants, even in the best,
as venison, and without the customers ever suspecting the fraud or
complaining of it.
‘And further, if horse-flesh has been often accepted as good under a
false name, it has also been pronounced good by those who, to judge of
its qualities, have submitted it to careful experiment, and by all who
have tasted it in a proper condition, that is, when taken from a sound
and rested horse, and kept sufficiently long. It is then excellent
roasted; and if it be not so acceptable as _bouilli_, it is precisely
because it furnishes one of the best soups--perhaps the best that is
known.
‘It is good also, as experiments prove made by myself as well as
others, when taken from old horses not fattened, whose age was 16, 19,
20, and even 23 years, animals thought worth no more than a few francs
beyond the value of their skin.
‘This is a capital fact, since it shows the possibility of utilizing a
second time, for their flesh, horses which have already been utilized
up to old age for their strength; and, consequently, of obtaining a
further and almost gratuitous profit at the end of their life, after
they had well nigh paid the cost of their rearing and keep by their
labour.’
Let us see what additional evidence M. St. Hilaire has to adduce.
First, he appeals to his long experience at the _Jardin des Plantes_,
where the greater part of the _carnivora_ are habitually fed on
horse-flesh, which keeps them healthy in spite of many unfavourable
conditions. But this will not carry much weight with it. Our digestion
is not quite so good as that of a lion. The condor has been known to
eat, with satisfaction, food which Mrs. Brown would find little to her
taste. No dietetic rule for men can be deduced from the digestions
of tigers. We prefer the experience of human stomachs. Fortunately
this is not wanting, and M. St. Hilaire collects an imposing mass of
evidence. Huzard, the celebrated veterinary surgeon, records, that
during the revolution, the population of Paris was for six months
dieted with horse-flesh, without any ill effects. Some complaints,
indeed, were made when it was found that the _beef_ came from horses;
but, in spite of prejudice and the terrors such a discovery may have
raised, no single case of illness was attributed to the food. Larrey,
the great army surgeon, declares that on very many occasions during
the campaigns, he administered horse-flesh to the soldiers, and to the
soldiers sick in the hospital; and instead of finding it injurious,
it powerfully contributed to the convalescence of the sick, and drove
away a scorbutic epidemic which attacked the men. The testimony of
Parent Duchâtelet is also quoted to the same effect. M. St. Hilaire
feels himself abundantly authorized to declare that horse-flesh, far
from being unwholesome, is one of the most nutritious and wholesome of
alimentary substances: and, to support this declaration, he adduces the
testimony of historians and travellers, showing how whole tribes and
nations have habitually eaten and highly esteemed it.
Having thus, as he considers, satisfactorily settled the question of
wholesomeness, M. St. Hilaire proceeds to deal with the question of
agreeableness. Is wholesome horse-flesh agreeable enough to tempt
men, not starving, to eat it? It is, of course, of little use that
historians and travellers tell of hippophagists--it is nothing to the
purpose that soldiers in a campaign, or citizens during a siege, have
eaten horses with considerable relish. Under such circumstances, one’s
old shoe is not to be despised as a _pièce de résistance_; and one’s
grandmother may be a toothsome morsel. The real point to be settled in
the European mind is this--apart from all conditions which must bias
the judgment, is horse-flesh pleasant to the taste? M. St. Hilaire
cites the evidence of eminent men who, having eaten it knowing what it
was, pronounced it excellent--all declaring that it was better than
cow-beef, and some that there was little difference between it and
ox-beef.
But perhaps the reader, having eaten German beef, has a not
ill-grounded suspicion that horse-flesh might bear honourable
comparison with such meat, and yet be at best of mediocre savour. Let
us, therefore, says a writer in the _Saturday Review_, cite the example
of Parisian banquets, where the convives were men accustomed to the
_Trois Frères_, _Philippe’s_, and the _Café de Paris_. M. Renault, the
director of the great Veterinary College at Alfort, had a horse brought
to him with an incurable paralysis of the hinder extremities. It was
killed, and three days afterwards, on the 1st December, 1855, eleven
guests were invited--physicians, journalists, veterinary surgeons, and
_employés_ of the government. Side by side were dishes prepared by
the same cook, in precisely the same manner, and with the same pieces
taken respectively from this horse and from an ox of good quality. The
_bouillon_ of beef was flanked by a _bouillon_ of horse, the _bouilli_
of beef by a _bouilli_ of horse, the fillet of roast beef by a fillet
of roast horse; and a comparison was to be made of their qualities. Dr.
Amédée Latour thus writes:--
‘_Bouillon de cheval._--Surprise générale! C’est parfait, c’est
excellent, c’est nourri, c’est corse, c’est aromatique, c’est riche de
goût.
‘Le bouillon de _bœuf_ est bon, mais _comparativement inférieur_, moins
accentué de goût, moins parfumé, moins résistant de sapidité.’
The jury unanimously pronounced the horse _bouillon_ superior to that
of the ox. The _bouilli_, on the contrary, they thought inferior to
that of good beef, although superior to ordinary beef, and certainly
superior to all cow-beef. The roast fillet, again, they found superior
to that of the ox; and M. Latour thus sums up the experiment:--
Un bouillon supérieur;
Un bouilli bon et très-mangeable;
Un rôti exquis.
Similar experiments have been subsequently tried, several times in
Paris and in the provinces. They have been tried under three different
conditions. First, the guests have known what they were going to eat;
secondly, they have been totally ignorant; and thirdly, they have been
warned that they were going to eat something quite novel. Yet in every
case, we are told, the result has been the same. It is right to add,
that the author anticipates the objection that the animals selected
were young horses in splendid condition, and that such horses are too
valuable to be sent to the butcher. The majority of these experiments
have, we are assured, been made at veterinary colleges, upon horses
incapacitated by age or accident from further work. The horse which
M. Renault served up to his friends had already _vingt-trois ans de
bons et loyaux services_. He was in good ‘condition’--that is to
say, well-fleshed, although paralysed. In fact, all the horses, it
is asserted, were such as are sold for fifteen or twenty francs--not
such as are the pride of our stables. The younger the horse, the
better his flesh; and as young horses die daily from accidents, these,
we presume, would form the ‘prime cuts.’ But old horses, used up,
unfit even for cabs, if allowed a little rest, are capable, we are
assured, of furnishing beef better than cow-beef. But this serving up
of horse-flesh is equalled by that of the maître de cuisine to the
Maréchal Strezzi, who, at the siege of Leith, according to Monsieur
Beaujeu, ‘made out of the hind quarter of one salted horse forty-five
_couverts_, that the English and Scottish officers and nobility who
had the honour to dine with the Monseigneur, upon the rendition, could
not tell what the devil any one of them were made upon at all.’ M. St.
Hilaire discusses at great length many other objections, with which we
need not here trouble ourselves. But the taste is spreading and the
advocates increasing. The public use of horse-flesh as human food is
spoken of approvingly in _Blackwood_.
The _New York Tribune_ thus endorses the fanatical idea of the French
_savans_, (more properly _ravens_,) as to the propriety of eating
horse-flesh:--
‘In the horse we have an animal which is much cleaner in its habits
than the hog, herbivorous like the ox or sheep, whose flesh is rich
in nitrogen, and as pleasant to the taste as that of either of the
above-named animals. What prevents horse-flesh from being found on our
tables? Nothing but a popular prejudice, which recent investigations in
Paris show is entirely without any foundation whatever.
‘8,000 horses die, it is said, in New York annually, or about 22 per
day’ (a great exaggeration no doubt); ‘but instead of fetching 17 or
18 dollars to press the carcase for grease, and to feed the hogs on to
make pork for export, the prices will be greatly enhanced for meat for
home consumption.’
Thus writes the Paris correspondent of the _Indépendance Belge_:--‘You
know what interest is attached to-day--and very naturally so--to all
questions relating to the public food. In connexion therewith, I have
to mention a fact which is both curious and odd; it is, that there is
being formed in Paris a society of economists, naturalists, and hardy
gourmands, having for aim the introduction of horse-flesh into the
category of butchers’ meat. It may perhaps be said, that this social
phenomenon is not altogether new. Ten years ago, _hippophagy_ made some
noise in Germany, and, if I remember right, a society of eaters of the
horse was formed, and attempted a public festival, at which all the
meat should be of that quadruped, but were interrupted by the public,
who, feeling their prejudices wounded, broke the tables to pieces. At
Paris, where all eccentricities are found, and even encouraged, there
is nothing of that kind to fear. Accordingly, _hippophagy_ progresses.
Do not consider this an exaggeration. The last number of the _Revue
des Cours Publics_ will prove to you, by means of a summary, that M.
Geoffroy de St. Hilaire has made the subject the theme of one of his
recent lectures, and that the learned professor was greatly applauded.
I should add that his auditors included economists, agriculturists,
and heads of benevolent institutions. When the orator concluded by
saying that the day was come when the horse ought to contribute to
the nourishment of the human race, as well as the ox, the sheep, and
the pig, a hundred voices cried in chorus, ‘_Oui! oui! très bien!_’
This question, strange at first sight, has been raised, and it will
not sleep again. I predict that it will have not only numerous
adherents, but eloquent fanatics. As a commencement, many of the
auditors wished to eat horse soup, horse steaks, and the same flesh
under other forms.’ At the time at which I write, dissertations are
made, _brochures_ written, the regulations of a _hippophagic_ society
drawn up, and the establishment of horse shambles demanded. In 1832, M.
Alphonse Karr, mocking the extreme zeal of the society for protection,
exclaimed--‘Philanthropists! the horse has carried man long enough; it
is now for man to carry the horse!’
There is very little doubt that horse-flesh, besides its application
for ‘cats’ meat,’ enters, even now, largely into surreptitious use in
certain quarters in this country as food for bipeds. Thus, a Blackburn
paper tells us that ‘on Monday last Mr. Laverty seized and confiscated
the carcase of a horse. The animal had been stuck and bled, and was
taken very near to the premises of a noted brawn and black-pudding
maker. We understand that horse-flesh is used in this town by a certain
vender and manufacturer of brawn.’
Hoffman and Burns, makers and venders of horse-meat sausages, at
Philadelphia, were recently tried, convicted, and sentenced to eighteen
months’ imprisonment. _Apropos_ of sausages, judging from the following
anecdote, home-made ones are the more attractive.
‘A minister in one of our orthodox churches, while on his way to preach
a funeral sermon in the country, called to see one of his members, an
old widow lady, who lived near the road he was travelling. The old lady
had just been making sausages, and she felt proud of them--they were
so plump, round, and sweet. Of course she insisted on her minister
taking some of the links home to his family. He objected on account
of not having his portmanteau along with him. This objection was soon
over-ruled, and the old lady, after wrapping them in a rag, carefully
placed a bundle in either pocket of the preacher’s capacious great
coat. Thus equipped, he started for the funeral.
‘While attending to the solemn ceremonies of the grave, some hungry
dogs scented the sausages, and were not long in tracking them to the
pockets of the good man’s over-coat. Of course this was a great
annoyance, and he was several times under the necessity of kicking
these whelps away. The obsequies at the grave completed, the minister
and congregation re-passed to the church, where the funeral discourse
was to be preached.
‘After the sermon was finished, the minister halted to make some
remarks to his congregation, when a brother who wished to have an
appointment given out, ascended the steps of the pulpit, and gave the
minister’s coat a hitch to get his attention. The divine, thinking it
a dog having designs upon his pocket, raised his foot, gave a sudden
kick, and sent the good brother sprawling down the steps!
‘You will excuse me, brethren and sisters,’ said the minister,
confusedly, and without looking at the work he had just done, ‘for I
could not avoid it--I have sausages in my pocket, and that dog has been
trying to grab them ever since I came upon the premises!’[10]
The reader may judge of the effect such an announcement would have
at a funeral. Tears of sorrow were suddenly exchanged for smiles of
merriment.
Mr. Richardson, officer of the Local Board of Health of Newton Heath,
near Manchester, gave the following evidence before Mr. Scholefield’s
Committee on Adulteration, before whom I was also examined as a witness.
‘We have in Newton five knackers’ yards, and there is only one in
Manchester. The reason is, that they have so much toleration in Newton;
and it has been a great source of profit to them, because they have
the means of selling the best portions of the horse-flesh to mix with
the potted meats.
‘I can say for a fact, that the tongues of horses particularly, and the
best portions, such as the hind quarters of horses, are generally sold
to mix with collared brawn, or pigs’ heads, as they are called with us,
and for sausages and polonies. I understand, also, from those who have
been in the habit of making them, that horse-flesh materially assists
the making of sausages; It is a hard fibrin, and it mixes better, and
keeps them hard, and they last longer in the shop window before they
are sold, because otherwise the sausages run to water, and become
soft and pulpy. I believe horse-flesh also materially assists German
sausages; it keeps them hard.’
The instinct of the dog, the cat, and the rat, are so well known that
one anecdote will suffice to illustrate the three. A terrier and a tom
cat were pursuing a large rat down a street. The rat was almost caught,
when it dodged suddenly and ran into a sausage shop. The cat and dog
stopped convulsively at the door; and, looking at the sausages, hung
their heads, and slunk away terror-stricken.
But in other quarters than England, unwholesome and infected meat is
vended, for a year or two ago the editor of the _Madras Athenæum_ thus
wrote:--
‘We question whether since the days of Pelops a more filthy dish was
ever offered to human beings, than those which are daily served up to
the European inhabitants of Madras. With respect to the state of our
market, we have never seen a more disgusting receptacle of all kinds of
abominations than that market presents.
‘A lazar house it seemed, wherein were laid
Numbers of all diseased.’
‘Unfortunate beings in the worst stages of leprosy, naked, and covered
all over with the livid spots of that hideous disease, standing at the
stalls, handling the meat, and talking with the butchers, is a sight
as common as it is horrible. As for the small-pox, that is almost too
abundant to allow of any cases being particularly noticed. It is very
conspicuous on the native, on account of the pustules being white.
The only disease bearing any resemblance to it is the itch. We have
ourselves observed a dirty fellow, with his hands covered all over
with one of these nauseous eruptions, coolly walking down the whole
length of a set of stalls, and clapping those abominable hands, in a
lazy manner, upon every piece of meat within his reach. Faugh! The
very thought smells. When we were last there, the place swarmed with
pariah dogs, the effect of which was to render the stench and filth
accumulated round the stalls perfectly unbearable. We are aware the
subject is a nasty one, but at the risk of spoiling the breakfast of
Brown, Jones, or Robinson, as they take up our damp sheet this morning,
we make the evil conspicuous, and bring it plainly into notice, that
measures may be taken to sink it into oblivion ever after. If one could
jest upon such a subject, one might say, that the market of Madras is
as much the morning lounge of the filthiest wretches in the place, as
the stables of Taylor and Co. are the morning rendezvous of the rank
and fashion, who there do congregate, to look at the Australians and
Arabs ushered to their notice under the winning smile of the worthy
head partner. Is not the thought horrible, too, that the fairer part
of the creation, who should be fed on
‘Sugar and spice
‘And all that’s nice,
are offered such filthy and infected stuff?
‘We should also recommend attention being called to the practice,
which we are afraid prevails, of ‘blowing the meat,’ to give it a
good appearance. This is a cognizable offence, and butchers have, on
occasion, most deservedly received a dozen or two for it; but the
inducement to make their meat look tempting by filling it with breath,
not quite so ‘fragrant as the flower of Amrou,’ is too profitable,
we fear, to be disregarded upon the vague and distant contingency
of a flogging or a fine. If the functionaries who are employed to
superintend the market are insufficient in number, it would surely be
poor economy not to increase them. If they are inattentive and remiss,
discharge them. It would be pennywise, indeed, for a few paltry rupees
a month, to allow a Secretary to Government, or a Member of Council,
whose wisdom and experience have been purchased at an immense cost to
the country, to be poisoned, which at present they are liable to be, by
infected meat.
‘If by calling attention to the subject, some improvement is made, our
object will be attained. We will gladly run the chance of spoiling
a few dinners. Jones of the club, as he takes the cover off one of
Maltby’s best _entrées_, may for once think of the leprous hand that
has handled it; Brown may fancy for once he will catch small-pox from
his beef-steak; Robinson may think of the dog licking the leg of mutton
from which his whack is taken, and all may heartily anathematise the
_Athenæum_ for telling them the truth, but we will cheerfully put up
with their wry faces and abuse, if the necessary reform we advocate be
attained.’
Sam Slick, in his truthful, but satirical vein, alludes to the
disguises of fashionable cookery.--‘Veal’ (he says) ‘to be good, must
look like anything else but veal. You mustn’t know it when you see
it, or it’s vulgar; mutton must be incog, too; beef must have a mask
on; any thin’ that looks solid, take a spoon to; any thin’ that looks
light, cut with a knife; if a thing looks like fish, you take your oath
it is flesh; and if it seems real flesh, it’s only disguised, for it’s
sure to be fish; nothin’ must be nateral--natur is out of fashion here.
This is a manufacturin’ country; everything is done by machinery, and
_that_ that aint, must be made to look like it; and I must say, the
dinner machinery is perfect.’
If horses are eaten, why not donkeys? The animal is more rare, and
hence it would be the greater delicacy. The Greeks ate donkeys, and we
must suppose they had their reasons for it. Has any modern stomach in
Europe been courageous enough, knowingly, to try it?
The flesh of the common ass, though never eaten by us, is esteemed
a delicacy in some countries, particularly in Tartary. The northern
climate, pasturage, and freedom may have some effect on the flesh.
Travellers affirm that dogs’ flesh, which with us is intolerable, is
one of the most savoury meats, when the animal has been kept for some
time in the warm, tropical regions. This cannot, however, apply to the
brutish pariah dogs that infest the streets of Madras, Constantinople,
and other eastern towns.
The Roman peasants found the flesh of the ass palatable, and the
celebrated Mæcenas having tasted it, introduced it to the tables of the
great and rich, but the fashion of eating it lasted no longer than his
life. Galen compares the flesh of the ass to that of the stag. It is
said to be eaten plentifully in the low eating-houses of Paris, under
the denomination of veal. The flesh of the wild ass is eaten by the
Tartars, and is said to be very delicate and good, but when killed in a
tame state, it is hard and unfit for food.
The wild ass, called Koulan by the Persians, is still common in many
parts of Central Asia, from the 48° of North latitude to the confines
of India. The Persians and Tartars hold its flesh in high esteem, and
hunt it in preference to all other descriptions of game. Olearius
assures us, that he saw no fewer than 32 wild asses slain in one day,
by the Shah of Persia and his court, the bodies of which were sent
to the royal kitchens at Ispahan; and we know from Martial, that the
epicures of Rome held the flesh of the Onager, or wild ass, in the same
estimation as we do venison.
Cum tener est _Onager_, solaque lalisio matre
Pascitur; hoc infans, sed breve nomen habet.
[Martial, xiii. 97.]
From a passage in Pliny (lib. viii., c. 44), it would appear, that the
Onager inhabited Africa; and that the most delicate and best flavoured
_lalisiones_, or fat foals, were brought from that continent to the
Roman markets. Leo Africanus repeats the same story of wild asses being
found in Africa, but no traveller has since met with them; and, as far
as we at present know, the species is confined to Asia.
The quaggas (_Asinus Quagga_) are often hunted in Africa by the Dutch
for their skins, of which they make large bags to hold their grain,
and by the Hottentots and other natives, who are very fond of their
flesh.
Lieutenant Moodie (_Ten Years in South Africa_) says, ‘Being one
morning at the house of a neighbouring farmer who had just shot one
of these animals, I requested that he would have a piece of the
flesh cooked for my breakfast. His ‘frow’ expressed some disgust at
my proposal, but ordered a small bit to be grilled, with butter and
pepper. I did not find it at all unpalatable, and certainly it was
better than horse-flesh, to which I had been treated in the hospital at
Bergen-op-Zoom in 1814, when lying wounded there, after the unfortunate
failure of that well-planned attack.’