Very often we look back on women the Victorian era and see only the equivalent of some modern-day heroine of Cosmo magazine who wears a size zero and eats only mung beans. That’s why I loved finding this caricature from Punch in 1872 mocking “the young lady with a model figure, light as a feather”.
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):
- Enter at a canter, halt, salute, rein back, figure-of-eights in rein back.
- Turn on the haunches/pirouettes to the right and to the left.
- Strong trot. Figure-of-eights.
- At a walk, voltes to the right and to the left, travers.
- Small successive counter-changes of hand in travers at a walk.
- Spanish walk interrupted with halts with tension sustained in each leg.
- Canter departs intermixed with flying changes and instant halts followed immediately by half turns in rein back.
- Piaffe and passage.
- Spanish trot.
- 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):
“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.
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.
Therese Renz of the famous Renz circus dynasty, c. 1895. I’ve seen wonderful pictures of her in action (have you see the one where she and her horse are jumping rope?) but didn’t realise that she was a Berliner, and is buried just up the road from me in St Hedwig’s cemetery in Weissensee. She died in 1938. More essential to know, she used to tame elephants and was known as “the lady in white” when she performed at the Wintergarten variety theatre, which was destroyed by bombs just six years after Therese left this mortal sawdust ring.
Horse Nation have a brief biography, which makes her sound like a tough old bird, despite a difficult life:
Just as Therese was getting back to business, World War I would disrupt her comeback and leave her penniless, begging on the streets not for her own food, but anything people could spare to keep her two beloved elephants alive. After one died of starvation, she sold the second, her prized elephant “Dicky”, to another circus just to prevent him from suffering the same fate. Therese would yet again be starting over.
When the war ended in 1918, Therese was 60 years old, but that wasn’t going to stop her. She joined a troupe in Vienna in 1923, and continued performing well into her seventies on a mare named “Last Rose”, a fitting final partner.
To greet the horsemen and women of Olympia 2016, here’s some hot Olympia action from 1922. Let’s hope they have a few more bums on seats in W14 this week! It’ll be superstar dressage horse Valegro’s last competition before he returns to Carl Hester’s yard for a gentler life altogether.
If you’ve come here after reading the Washington Post piece on the revival of sidesaddle in America (now going a little viral on Jezebel.com), here’s a selection from the archives – a little bit of everything from balloonists to tragic heroines, scandalous females and zebras ridden sidesaddle. I also wrote in detail about women and girls who rode in Britain and Ireland in If Wishes Were Horses: A Memoir of Equine Obsession. Photos of the Mrs. George C. Everhart Memorial Invitational Side Saddle Race – the first sidesaddle race to take place in the US since the 1930s are here.
If you’d love to read some primary sources on women and riding in America in the nineteenth century, get thee to Archive.org to read Elizabeth Karr’s American Horsewoman and Theo Stephenson Brown’s hilarious In the Riding-School: Chats with Esmeralda. If you want to see what’s under the side saddle apron, well, here’s Eadweard Muybridge – perhaps NSFW.
As someone with a hip or two that are threatening to be arthritic, I’m glad of the sidesaddle revival as in the future it might be the only way I can ride a horse. Barbara Minneci of Belgium has been flying the flag for sidesaddle in paralympic dressage with her beautiful coloured cob, Barilla. There’s more about earlier para-sidesaddle riders in the list below.
- Women, horses and their contribution to World War One in the UK: part one and part two.
- The daring dressage riders of 19th century Europe: Jenny: NOT The Prix St Georges, and beautiful, tragic Emilie.
- Blanche Allarty-Molier performs the famous airs above ground: Flying Sidesaddle.
- A very genteel lady steeplechaser: Dianas of the Chase.
- Exposed stockings and duelling menfolk: Alice Thornton: A Regency Lady Jockey.
- A (Not So Short) History of Women Riding Astride.
- Sidesaddle at the 1900 Olympics.
- A risqué (and very popular) stage hit involving an actress in a bodysuit strapped to the back of a horse: Wild Horses Dragging You Away.
- A former missionary to lepers strikes a blow for womankind: Mrs Hayes and the Zebra.
- “DVD Extra” for If Wishes Were Horses’ 19th century chapter – quotations, photos: Jeunes Filles Bien Elévées.
- Women who defied the classic stereotype of Victorian invalid lady, a-fainting on the sofa: Para-Hunting.
- A intriguing and mysterious horsewoman of Paris: Who’s That Lady?
- Sidesaddle wardrobe malfunctions: How Should A Lady Dress?
- Anything men can do: Side-saddle Polo.
- Mrs Power O’Donoghue catches a maid trying on her riding gear: Upstairs, Downstairs.
- Sidesaddle as drag – in central London: Veiled Delusions.
- Madame Poitevin, a horse and a balloon: Equine Aviation Pioneers.
- Photos from the 2013 sidesaddle steeplechase held in the UK.
I went to Amsterdam last weekend to see friends I hadn’t seen for far too long, and ended up doing a little unscheduled horsey tourism. I hadn’t planned it, honest! I had no idea that Amsterdam had a nineteenth century riding manège right by its main park, nor that the building was still home to horses. And I didn’t realise until I wandered into the Van Loon House museum on the Keizersgracht that there was a beautifully preserved coach house and stables tucked away at the end of its garden. Maybe it’s the canals and narrow streets – boats and bikes dominate – but Amsterdam is not Venice, and there are plenty of cobbled streets once traversed by the thousands of horses that made the city on the Amstel function in the nineteenth century and earlier.
This palladian construction sits at the end of the garden of the Van Loon family’s townhouse. The house itself was built in 1672 and the wealthy Van Loons moved in in 1884, only departing in 1945. The coach house was home to up to six horses (cared for by two grooms, a coachman and a footman) and was enough of a source of pride for the family to take guests to view it. They also had country estates, and the stable has now been reconstructed using mangers from one of these homes. When in town, the family’s equestrian activities were probably confined to the Vondelpark, where they could ride or drive as the fancy took. There are some photographs of the family sleigh in the park, and the sleigh itself is sitting on the old brick floor, opposite a cabinet of harnesses decorated with the family colours:
And this is the charabanc, from the French for “wagon with benches”, also in the family colours (yellow and black). One of the Van Loons was hunting master to King William III, and his hunting horn is strung up on the stable wall, along with a black-and-white photo of a Van Loon lady leaping sidesaddle over a hurdle on an affable, old-fashioned-looking grey.
There’s also a model of the stable as it once looked – a family children’s toy, complete with saddles hanging on the partitions and horses with plaited tails. If you look closely you’ll even see the nameplates over each stall. I bought some postcards with old images of the stables, horses, grooms and coachman. The horses look just like Gelderlanders – chestnut or bay with backs as long as fire dogs.
Mention of the Vondelpark led me to the Dutch Equestrian School Museum on a leafy, blossom-lined street just yards from the park itself. The large detached houses give way to this façade:
Slip under the archway and there’s a potent whiff of horse and horse by-products, a long corridor with a red carpet and a large door that opens into the Hollandesche Manege, originally founded in 1744 and in its current form since 1882. It’s still in use as a riding stable and still hosts “carousels”. Here are a selection of blurry cameraphone shots (no flash) of the hall, foyer and stables: the grand staircase with its treads worn down by 130 years of riding boots, the loose boxes and their friendly (and hungry) inhabitants and the stucco decorations, with some visual depth added by a layer of manège dust. The foyer is the most beautiful riding “club house” I’ve ever been in (although most of the riding club houses I know where full of janky old heaters, dirty tea mugs and folded up horse blankets, but I digress). Alongside the pony club summer camp adverts, copies of Black Beauty and old plates of “Equitation Around the World”, is a huge nineteenth-century gouache drawing of gentlemen in top hats playing at quintain and running at rings. One of the information cards provided says that women were very much involved at the reopening ceremony in 1882, and there were sidesaddles for sale and on display. My ticket included a free cup of tea, so I sat on the balcony and watched the current crop of riders go through their paces before wandering out to the crowded Vondelpark and hunting for old bridle paths.