Unbridled Dressage, Brushes with Scandal and a Tragic End: Adèle Drouin

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Scores or maybe even hundreds of women in nineteenth century Europe performed as haute-école riders in circuses and hippodromes* before audiences from all classes. A handful of them became famous, as the expansion of the newspaper market meant that they were the first women to be widely celebrated for their equestrian skills (other than the odd huntress in Britain, some queens and princesses). Their feminity was considered a draw – the spectacle came not just from their performance of complicated dressage movements, but also from the fact that they were respectable and attractive young ladies whose magnificent horses obeyed them utterly.

In a competitive marketplace, these horsewomen needed to stand out. They needed a gimmick. It might be a pink riding whip. It might be the tiniest waist. If you were Jenny De Rhaden, you made your horse rear then laid down on his back, your hair trailing into his tail and onto the floor (and lost your sight when the stunt goes wrong). Adèle Drouin had a unique party trick – she rode a sophisticated pattern of dressage moves with no bridle or even a neck strap on her mare, Diane.**

I first learned about Adèle in Hilda Nelson’s The Ecuyère of the Nineteenth Century Circus, and this post is the result of a few random dips I’ve taken into old French newspapers to try to find out more about her life. It’s not an exhaustive biography but should hopefully give some sense of the often long working lives of these women and the tightrope they walked between celebrity and notoriety in a time when there was little room for error if you were a woman.

According to Baron de Vaux, she made her debut at the tender age of 18 or 19 in either 1865 or 1866 at the hippodrome on what is now the avenue Bugeaud in Paris. He describes her thus (my probably faulty translation):

Of medium size with a pretty face and a marvellously well-made bust, endowed by nature with all that could make her contours more seductive, she was charming in the saddle from the very first day and soon acquired an exceptional bearing.

With M. de Corbie as a teacher, she rode the horses who performed the airs above ground at Versailles and was never unseated. De Corbie had inherited his skill in training “amazones” from his own tutor, the Comte de Montigny, who wrote L’Equitation des Dames. Unlike many horsewomen who lacked balance or suppleness aside, his pupils had no problem with cantering on the left rein, according to the critic “Gladiateur II”.

When de Corbie trained a white horse to perform without a bridle, it was Adèle who first rode him at the hippodrome. When the hippodrome burned down in 1869, she was snapped up by the Cirque des Champs-Elysées and rode there on Diane. Here is their routine, as detailed by de Vaux (all without a bridle, and again, beware my sketchy translation, my International Horseman’s Dictionary wasn’t quite up to the task):

  1. Enter at a canter, halt, salute, rein back, figure-of-eights in rein back.
  2. Turn on the haunches/pirouettes to the right and to the left.
  3. Strong trot. Figure-of-eights.
  4. At a walk, voltes to the right and to the left, travers.
  5. Small successive counter-changes of hand in travers at a walk.
  6. Spanish walk interrupted with halts with tension sustained in each leg.
  7. Canter departs intermixed with flying changes and instant halts followed immediately by half turns in rein back.
  8. Piaffe and passage.
  9. Spanish trot.
  10. Extended canter, sudden halt in the centre and exit in a rapid rein back.

How was Diane trained to do all this with no bridle? According to de Vaux, it’s done by teaching the horse to interpret taps of the whip as instructions instead of rein pressure. Eventually, the whip doesn’t even have to touch the horse for it to respond, and later voice commands can be used. It’s thought-provoking – we should remember that the rein, bit and boot are languages that we have chosen for the horse and not necessarily the only ones that can come to have meaning for him.

To give you an idea of a typical evening’s entertainment involving Adèle, here’s the show on offer at the Cirque Napoléon in October 1868, starting at 8pm (again, I’ve done my best with the translation):

First half

“Travail à cheval” by Mlle Lehmann [no idea what this horse work involved].
La Cachucha danced by Price junior [a Cuban dance performed with castanets. I believe the Prices in this bill are a famous musical clown dynasty, one of whom was painted by Renoir].
Ribbon jumping by Mlle Monfroid [ribbons were run from the balcony to a pole in, I would guess, the centre of the ring. Mlle Monfroid stood on a cantering rosinback horse and leapt over the ribbons]
The Grotesque Dwarves – performed by Jacob and Lehmann.
Le Solo interrupted by Price.
The clown and his elephant, by Chadwick.
Debut performance of the horseman, Pacifico.

Second half

Jumping through hoops [presumably on a rosinback] by Mme Loyal.
The Icarus Games, by Russels and his children.
Adèle on Diane.
Comical interlude by Price senior.
Debut of Hernandez, Spanish horseman.
The Little Postillion by Leguay junior.
Debut of the gymnast Farinis and his son.

By 1875, Mlle Drouin was so well known that Le Figaro had to assure its readers that she was not the unfortunate labourer’s daughter, named only as Adèle, who was described as “the sad heroine of the nocturnal drama at Clichy”. This referred to a story the newspaper had printed the day before, headlined “The Mysteries of Clichy”. The Adèle in this story is a beautiful former écuyère known in her days at the hippodrome for her striking figure and bold eye but now long forgotten by the boulevardiers. I include part of this shadow Adèle’s story here because it makes an interesting contrast to that of the more virtuous Mlle Drouin.

Figaro describes the shadow Adèle riding a white horse with neither saddle nor bridle and pulling off astonishing feats in her performing days. When the hippodrome burned down, she, too, had a contract with the circus, but she also had a drink problem, and her poison of choice was absinthe. She arrived at work drunk and was promptly dismissed. Her subsequent fall was rapid. She fell in with ex-cons. In the midst of a row over some kind of gambling match six or eight months later, one of Adèle’s admirers knocked out his opponent in a cabaret in Saint-Ouen (an incident also covered by Figaro). Adèle ended up serving three months in prison while her partner was put away for five years.

By this time, she was 33 years old. She rapidly found herself a new partner named as “A…..” who was formidably strong and known throughout Clichy, Saint-Ouen and Saint-Denis. This was, Figaro says, less a love match than a business association. Adèle would pick up men and take them to a room in an isolated house on the route de la Révolte, whereupon A…. would stride in as the “outraged husband”, batter the unfortunate man, strip him of all his worldly goods and throw him out into the street.

This worked well until one victim was rescued by a neighbour, Madam L….., who helped him testify to the crimes. The gendarmes went to arrest the pair, but A…. spotted their approaching tricornes, jumped out of the window, scaled a wall and scarpered towards Paris. Adèle disappeared. A few days later, the police staked out the house on the route de la Révolte and nearly caught A…, who escaped once more. A…. then went underground, finding a job in an oil factory in Clichy, where he was recognised and once more evaded arrest.

Two days later, a pair of gendarmes spotted Adèle the square au Batignolles and reasoned rightly that A…. could not be far away. The gendarmes seized him and threatened him with a gun. Adèle slipped away in the uproar and out of this blog post, because at this point I’m going to set this rogue Adèle to one side, lest I get lost in the archives. Maybe I’ll write more about her at a later date.

In June 1885 our respectable Adèle Drouin was still going strong. She appeared at the Cirque d’Été in a quadrille of eight “goddesses”, four of whom were haute-école riders. Adèle played Minerva, Mathilde Vidal was Bellone, Thérèse Gautier Amphitrite and “Mlle Lencka” Diana.

In 1893 she found herself dragged into a scandal involving another écuyère. Jenny de Rhaden’s husband had shot and killed a circus horseman who had been corresponding with his wife. A newspaper published a photograph of Adèle mislabelled as Jenny. I wonder if it was this one from the famous Studio Nadar, as Jenny was also photographed there. A month later Adèle was in the papers again after a “lively discussion” with a madame Marguerite de Clarynkal and had to be separated by circus proprietor Franconi. The writer at Gil Blas (possibly de Vaux himself) believed that the fault was all on Adèle’s side and hoped that she would soon apologise. It was rather a blot on a lady’s history.

According to de Vaux, Adèle left behind the circus and the hippodrome when she married, which would – if we can trust the baron – have been some time in 1893, the year the book was published and the last two reports in Gil Blas cropped up. She would have been 46; 28 years is a formidable reign in any sporting or entertainment field. The era when the écuyère was queen of the circus was ending, and she timed her retirement well.

On the 26 April 1911, Comoedia reported that, at the age of 64, Adèle had been committed to an asylum. At the time she was living on the avenue de Wagram. She had become paranoid and was sitting up all night with a candle in hand. She then turned up at the local police station wearing little but a veil-like piece of cloth, in the belief that the assassins  pursuing her would thus not be able to see her. The scan of the article at Gallica is hard to read, but possibly says that she was married to a very rich antique dealer from the Madeleine district of Paris and lived in a modest flat that cost 400 francs to rent.

She died in 1913 and Baron de Vaux was once more on hand to record the achievements of a horsewoman he’d once found “delicious” and mourn the passing of the “écuyère vedette“phenomenon. Sadly this piece has been too poorly scanned for me to read and will have to wait for another time.

 

* A hippodrome was shaped rather like its Roman namesake and roofed; a circus was not a tent but a building with a ring as its central focus.

** In the 1840s and 1850s, an écuyère called Mathilde Monnet performed with neither bridle nor saddle. She probably used one of these, a surcingle with a leaping head attached; it would have been easy to hide under the long, full skirts women habitually worse for sidesaddle at that time. I saw one in the tackroom at the Académie du Spéctacle Equestre at Versailles in late 2015 when I was researching The Age of the Horse. Going by the dates, Mathilde was not the shadow Adèle.

 

 

 

The Cremellos of Versailles

Curious cremello Lusitano at the Académie Équestre, Versailles, November 2014.

Curious cremello Lusitano at the Académie Équestre, Versailles, November 2014.

Scraps of incomplete research I’m doing to trace the history of cream-coloured horses at Versailles and earlier French royal stables.

I knew the Hanoverian monarchs of England had cream-coloured carriage horses (the “Hanoverian creams” mentioned in W J Gordon’s Horse World of London in 1893), and that cream horses are mentioned by François Robichon de la Guérinière, who ran the French royal manège at the Tuileries from 1730 onwards (poetic list of horse colours compiled by Guérinière here). But were cremellos just one of many exotic and distinctive colours collected by the rulers of France? Or did they have more special significance?

From “Third Letter from Paris” by “Chasseur”, a correspondent of The Sporting Magazine in November 1830, a hundred years after Guérinière. In July 1830, the unpopular Bourbon King Charles X was overthrown and replaced by Louis-Phillippe, the first of the Orléanist kings, and a constitutional monarch. The aftermath of what was known as the July Revolution included some sort of fire sale of Charles’ hunting paraphenalia, from gaiters to otter hounds. And, of course, his horses:

I was not at the horse sale, but many good useful horses were given away almost. By useful ones I mean the carriage horses – bays, with short tails – English three-parts-bred ones. The hunters I never thought much of. By the way, an old cream-coloured horse with red eyes, in the Versailles stable, a favourite of Napoleon’s, I hear has again changed masters, though not passed into the hands of Royalty. I would have bought him had I been there, to prevent so distinguished an animal from being degraded by base servitude, as I fear he will be subjected to.

Where might the cream horse have come from? This Wikipedia page for the Celle State Stud in Lower Saxony, Germany, says that cream carriage horses, originally from Spain, were bred for ceremonial use at Herrenhausen. They are the source for the English Hanoverian creams, and apparently Napoleon pilfered several:

When he captured Hanover, he ransacked the stables of the Elector and found a number of beautiful cream colored horses. These he incontinently purloined and not long afterward these same Hanoverian steeds drew the splendid state coach in which Napoleon rode to be crowned as Emperor at Notre Dame.

Frank Leslie’s popular monthly 52: 42, “Historic Coaches, Old and New”. 1882.

This wonderfully researched page has some contemporary images of these creams and the trappings they wore at Napoleon’s coronation. Serious plumes. And a cheeky statement from this upstart from Corsica – he appropriated the very horses of true royalty for his own apotheosis. The scraps I’ve found here seem to hint that either the same horses were also used for riding (which seems unlikely) or both Napoleon and the British kings had creams to ride in addition to the carriage horses. James Ward called his famous painting of a cremello, “Adonis, the favourite charger of King George III,” and then, from Jill Hamilton’s Marengo, the Myth of Napleon’s Horse:

Tolstoy in War and Peace, wrote: ‘Napoleon was riding on his cream-coloured English horse, accompanied by his guards . . . Napoleon rode on, dreaming of Moscow.’

Read more of Chasseur’s John-Bullish thoughts on Frenchies and horses here. If you want to read an excellent book about Napoleon’s horses, Jill Hamilton’s Marengo, The Myth of Napoleon’s Horse, is now available as a Kindle e-book.

Peach Blossom, Trout and Tiger: Horse Colours in 1730s France

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Screengrab from Archive.org.

A list of horse coat colours taken from The School of Horsemanship by François Robichon de la Guérinière (first complete edition 1733. Translated by Tracey Boucher. Published by J A Allen, London, 1994):

light bay
chestnut bay
black-brown
golden bay
dapple bay
jet black
rusty black
dapple grey
iron grey
silver grey
tiger (grey with black spots and large solid black areas on white undercoat)
flea-bitten grey
pied (black, bay, chestnut)
light chestnut
dark chestnut
wine-coloured roan
moor’s head roan (blue roan)
rubican
mouse dun
wolf-coloured (with dorsal stripe)
all-flower or peach blossom
trout (a black undercoat and a body and head dotted with reddish or chestnut spots)
blue-grey (“a white undercoat and spots over the entire body, such as one sees on porcelain vases”)
isabella
palomino
cream

UPDATE 17/1/2017: I rediscovered my copy of The Wilton House Riding School, a reproduction of 55 paintings by Hapsburg riding master Baron Reis d’Eisenberg depicting haute-école movements. I can’t find a date for the completion of the paintings but in his introduction Dorian Williams says that the baron lived in the mid-eighteenth century. As I flipped through the pages I noticed that several of the colours mentioned by Guerinière appear, which might help to decipher the original French list.

There’s a German-bred horse described as a “porcelain piebald” which turns out to be a dapple grey (he’s called “Superb”). A Turkish horse is “silver trout” – what we would call flea-bitten grey. A leopard-spotted appaloosa is “tiger” (a confusion I’ve come across in some nineteenth-century descriptions of spotted horses). Our mysterious “mille fleurs” or all-flower looks rather like a blue roan with black freckles.

Want to Smell Like a Horse?

Wiki Commons: Jastrow (2007)

Thank  you to Slaminsky for pointing me towards these scents for the wealthy and horse crazy. Parfums de Marly present a range of equine-themed perfumes:

Godolphin: “opulent rose note, leading to a woody-leather scent base. Top notes: thyme, saffron, cypress, green notes, fruity notes and mate. Heart: rose, iris and jasmine. Base: leather, vetiver, cedar, musk, amber and vanilla.”

Pegasus: “a stimulating blend of bergamot and almond with a base of vanilla, sandalwood and amber.” (for men)

Darley: “notes of lavender and rose on an oriental base. Top notes: lemon, bergamot and mint. Heart: rose, orange blossom, lavender, rosemary and cinnamon. Base: sandalwood, guaiac wood, patchouli, amber and tonka.” (also for men)

Ispazon: “a woody oriental scent named after the native equine breed of the Netherlands, which is renowned for its grace and beauty.”

Lipizzan: “a spicy woody composition using the finest essences. With top notes of citron and cardamom, it has a heart of jasmine, rose and iris and base notes of amber, vanilla and musk.”

Shagya: “Top notes: lime, bergamot and red pepper. Heart: geranium and cedar oud. Base: vetiver, guaiac wood, papyrus, and musk.”

Herod: cinnamon and pepperwood, osmanthus, tobacco, vanilla, cedarwood, patchouli, musk and more.

Marly take their name from the Chateau de Marly in France, where they say that receptions were held to honour the horses of Louis XV and fragrances created to commemorate racing wins. The chateau no longer stands, but some of the superb sculptures by Guillaume Coustou that once decorated it have since been erected elsewhere. The image above is one, prancing outside the Louvre in Paris.

The Baker’s Horse Takes On Royalty

Today’s Times has a piece by Adam Sage on Saonois, a favourite for the 2012 Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe. It’s behind a pay wall here, for those with access. Saonois belongs to 34-year-old village baker, Pascal Treyve, who snapped him up for €8,000 when he was rejected by the industry as being “too small”. Saonois started out at provincial race courses but rose to win the Prix du Jockey Club, nicknamed the French Derby. Altogether he’s won seven races and €1,743,000 in prize money. Now the same big names who rejected him are beating a path to the bakery door, waving wads of money. Sage writes:

Mr Treyve, who has always lived in Bellegarde-en-Forez, grew up with a horse-mad father who took him to the races before he could walk. He thought about becoming a horse and cart-racing driver before opting for baking because “I put security first”. But in 2004 he saw a foal, Cadran, up for sale and bought a 50 per cent stake in it. “It was dream I’d had ever since I was a teenager,” he said. “And I fell in love with that foal. I only bought half because it was very expensive. I said to myself, ‘If it turns out to be a mistake, never mind’.”

Cadran ran in 54 races and won €140,400 in prize money. So when Jean-Pierre Gauvin, a friend and local trainer, suggested buying Saonois, he was able to stump up €4,000.

Elite flat racing tends to be short on fairy tale endings, but who wouldn’t love to see the baker beat the Aga Khan and Saudi royalty?

The Queens of the Circus

Thank you to French site Hyppoblog for passing on news that the Musée Vivant du Cheval in Chantilly is launching a new show to honour the equestriennes of the nineteenth century circus. These ladies performed haut école movements and bold tricks like leaping over dining tables and through hoops – all while side-saddle. They were a social sensation, respected and adored by the public. Called “Ecuyères” after the French term for these horsewomen, the spectacular will be performed from April to November. Must. Go. To Paris.