The Great Equestrienne Louisa Woolford

Print depicting Mr Ducrow and Miss Woolford in their circus duet as the ‘Tyrolean Sheppard [sic] and Swiss Milkmaid’ as performed at Astley's Theatre (print published 26 July 1831). © Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

“In ‘The Tyrolean Shepherd and Swiss Milkmaid,’ for example, [Ducrow] was joined by his wife, Louisa Woolford; while standing on the backs of their circling horses, the two performed the pursuit and wooing of a ‘fair peasant,’ complete with a lovers’ quarrel and reconciliation scene, followed by an exquisite pas de deux.” Britannica

An article about equestriennes that I shared some months ago on Facebook reminded me of one of my favorite early 19th century London locales, Astley’s Amphitheatre, and its equestrienne star, Louisa Woolford. Since she wasn’t a Belle Epoque figure—she was born about 1815, in the Regency era—she didn’t get much attention in the Paris Review piece on equestriennes. Or elsewhere.

Miss Woolford makes a brief appearance in Dickens’s Sketches by Boz, in the piece, “Astley’s.” Not enough about her, but a fine and funny verbal picture of the place, worth reading, I think.

She was the most famous circus performer of the time—but information about her is scarce. Here’s what I’ve pieced together, with the aid of a descendant.

Louisa was the seventh of nine children, one of two born in Ireland (the others were born in England). Her father was a horse breeder and trainer who worked with the famous equestrian circus performer Andrew Ducrow, of Astley’s fame, and she began performing at Astley’s at an early age.

According to a quote from an Andrew Ducrow obituary in a London Dead Blog post: “ ... Miss Woolford ... before she became Mrs Ducrow was for a long time the chief attraction of his theatre, and drew crowds by the accustomed gracefulness of her action, and the skilful management of her steed. The deceased has two children* by her. Miss Woolford was very early a debutante at Astley’s, and many theatrical people of about thirty years standing will remember her at the Amphitheatre under Astley’s management as a little girl with a long crop, and of intelligent and pretty manners. She had two brothers also at the same time with her on the stage, who have since died in America; she bears an amiable and good character; her age is about twenty seven, and she had been married to Mr Ducrow about four years.”

The trouble is, she tends to take second place to her famous husband. She put him in first place as well, with an extravagant epitaph on his magnificently over-the-top mausoleum in London’s Kensal Green Cemetery. I took a detailed look when I visited London a few years ago. On one side of the tomb is the epitaph Louisa wrote, which you can read in full in my blog post at Two Nerdy History Girls.

His funeral, as described in The Gentleman’s Magazine, was in keeping with the grand tomb.

We learn from the Gentleman’s Magazine obituary that Louisa is pregnant (with their third child): “The situation of Mrs. Ducrow renders it probable that her accouchement will take place in June. It is understood to be her intention not to resume her professional exertions.” This pregnancy produced the son who earned his own blog post on the London Dead blog.

Had she resumed her professional exertions, it’s possible that her fame would have equaled her first husband’s. But she married again, about two years after Ducrow’s demise, a gentleman named John Hay. He died in 1873, and she lived on comfortably it seems, having two live-in servants as of the census of 1891. She died at Paddington, London, on 25 January 1900, leaving her daughter something over £ 700.

For the information about her life after Ducrow and for most of the images here I am indebted to Eden Pelletier, a descendant, who got in touch with me after reading my 2NHG blog post about Andrew Ducrow’s mausoleum.

We have not yet found Louisa’s burial place, and we continue to search for further information. For now, she seems to be one of those women who, after the early years of fame, “lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs,” as George Eliot said of Dorothea in Middlemarch.

*Peter Andrew and Louisa.

The Singing Bird Pistols

Readers familiar with my short story, “Lord Lovedon’s Duel,” (recently reissued in the Royal Bridesmaids anthology and one of the two stories in the Royally Ever After duet) will remember the Singing Bird Pistols. In case anybody was wondering, yes, they’re real.

Some years ago, reader Ammie sent me a link she believed a Nerdy History Girl like me would enjoy. I was wowed, and the pistols became part of the inspiration for the novella.

This link will take you to the video I watched over and over: The Only Known Pair of Matching Singing Bird Pistols – Attributed to Frères Rochat | Christie's.

I and others did wonder how the pistols had survived, let alone survived in pristine condition. Apparently, they weren’t pristine. This video, which another reader, Kafryn W Lieder, was so good as to send me, tells the impressive story of their restoration.

Since not everybody’s screen of choice works quite the same, and some people who receive the blog via email see only a square, rectangle, or blank where the video ought to be, below are the respective links to the videos with their YouTube titles.

The Only Known Pair of Matching Singing Bird Pistols – Attributed to Frères Rochat | Christie's
Parmigiani Fleurier - Restoration "The Pistol and its Songbird"

Olympia's Destination Wedding Locale

Greenwood Map of Kensington 1830. Red line is Olympia’s and Ripley’s route from Newland House (Campden House)

A previous post about A Duke in Shining Armor described my husband and my tracking Olympia’s escape route.

This time I thought it would be fun to take a closer look at the house she ran from, Newland House.

Seeking a wedding locale near but not in 1830s London, I discovered Campden House on a map of Kensington. It belongs to one of many areas that are now part of London but were rural retreats then. An online search turned up black and white engravings of a Jacobean mansion built more or less in the style of Holland House (more on that here, here, and here). That is to say, it had towers and turrets and lots of windows, and sprawled with a pleasing untidiness over a large estate. Because I intended to send my characters southwestward, its location was ideal: between Holland Park and Kensington Gardens, and a short distance from the Kensington High Street, where Olympia and Ripley would find a hackney stand.

Like other great houses, Campden House went through a series of transformations. These are described in Chapter IV of Kensington Picturesque and Historical, and explains my mentioning Queen Anne in my story. The chapter, which includes a rather poignant account of the queen’s one surviving son, describes the house’s interior, the 1862 fire*, and the rebuilding some years later. The second incarnation was demolished at the turn of the 20th century.

Campden House c. 1860, south-east view from the garden. Coloured litho by Edwin Smith.

But once again, though the book was completed, I still wanted to know more. Shortly after tracing Olympia’s route, my husband and I went to the Kensington Central Library, where Dave Walker, archivist/librarian/blogger, generously supplied mountains of material from the archives, and helped us—my husband, actually—scan and photograph dozens of images, including one describing the house’s location: “Old Campden House and its ground stood approximately within the square formed by the Sheffield Terrace (on the north) + Campden House Road (on the west) Gloucester Walk (on the south) and Church Street (on the east).” This helped us get our bearings.

“This photograph from the early 1900s shows the remains of tower that stood in the grounds of Campden House.“— Library Time Machine.

As many of you know, I have as much fun doing historical research as creating the story. One feeds the other. A Duke in Shining Armor inspired other investigations, as did my visit with Dave Walker. These in turn have inspired scenes in my work-in-slow-progress. You can expect more nerdy history material in the months to come.

Following are some of my sources, in case you’d like to delve more deeply into the history.

More about Campden House , with a detailed description of the Pitt estate, at British History online.

Description from The Old Court Suburbs: Kensington, in Old Kensington, in Old and New London: Volume 5.

Campden House after the fire.

Interiors are scarce. This is the schoolroom at Campden House, coloured lithograph by Charles Richardson.

You can find the house on this 1841 map of Kensington & Chelsea.

Here at Mapco is a Victorian era (some 30 years later) map segment you can enlarge considerably. By this time the area is considerably more populated.

*A better account of the fire begins here on page 773 of Chambers’s Journal, Sixth Series, Vol X December 1906 to November 1907.

The photographs, including those of materials from the Kensington Central Library, are the work of Walter M. Henritze III. Our thanks to Dave Walker and Isabel Hernandez for giving so generously of their time, for sharing so much fascinating material, and for their patience.