Impudent Foppishness

In the 1720s, Tsar Peter I issued a decree with the following admonition:

It has come to our attention that on Nevsky Prospect and at assemblies [balls], the MINOR CHILDREN of in some way eminent fathers – dukes, counts, and barons – in violation of etiquette and the dictates of style have been with great impudence and foppishly flaunting Shpanish pantaloons and doublets:

The SAINT PETERSBURG Chief of Police IS COMMANDED: to apprehend any such fops with utmost fervor, take them to the foundry district, and beat them with cudgels until the exceedingly indecent appearance of Shpanish pantaloons and doublets is no more. No regard shall be paid to the rank and eminence of the fathers, nor shall attention be paid to the wails of the punished.

What was it about the “Shpanish” doublets and pantaloons that Peter found so appalling? Why did the mere sight of them provoke such an extreme reaction? Answering these questions will require a historical digression going back to Peter’s childhood.

Peter had some knowledge of foreign dress even in childhood, when his teacher, Nikita Zotov, entertained the royal adolescent by showing him various curious engravings he had purchased in Moscow depicting foreigners in their national dress. The young tsarevich also had some familiarity with the uniforms of foreign armies from the various foreigners who surrounded him (including possibly the very first foreigner he ever laid eyes on, his childhood tutor, the Scotsman Paul Mensius). This knowledge helped Peter devise German-styled uniforms for the “Toy Army” he organized as a child, filling its ranks with his noble playmates and servants alike.

But Peter’s familiarity with foreign attire was primarily developed during his visits to the German Quarter, which offered a taste of Western Europe in what was still a relatively medieval Muscovy.* The quarter, where a much freer atmosphere prevailed than in Muscovy generally, seethed with energy and offered a taste of Western European life that captivated young Peter. According to Prince Boris Kurakin, who served as Peter’s ambassador to multiple European capitals, it was an English trader from the quarter known by the Russian name Andrei Krevet who first obtained European clothing for the tsar. Starting in 1688. he “procured sundry items for His Majesty, ordered them from abroad, and was admitted to court. It was from him that it was adopted to wear English hats like the sirs wear, and doublets.”

Russia’s Patriarch Joachim, however, sternly condemned all congress with foreigners. “I again remind you that no changes toward foreign customs and dressing as in other lands should be introduced,” he demanded of the tsar. The patriarch had good reason to press the point: Peter’s preference for Western clothing reflected a general desire to learn from Europe, and learning from Europe meant toppling the entire system of values that had prevailed for centuries in Russia, the very system Joachim saw it as his mission to defend.

Achieving the Europeanization of Russia meant eradicating the belief that Western countries were sinful and doomed to damnation. At the same time, Peter had to overcome the idea that Russia was a perfect country in which the old ways were sacred and nothing should be changed. As the tsar saw it, backward Rus simply had to absorb experience and wisdom from the enlightened and civilized West. Early in his reign (1682–1725), however, he understood it would be unwise to advertise these views. The zealous adherents of Muscovy’s old ways were too powerful.

It was only after Joachim’s death in 1690 that Peter was emboldened to order himself a full set of German attire: a doublet, stockings, boots, a sword with an embroidered baldric, and a wig. At first, the tsar only wore these items when in the company of foreigners, specifically when visiting the German Quarter, which, for a number of reasons (including those “of the heart”), he was visiting with increasing frequency. His older friend Franz Lefort, who, as Voltaire expressed it, had a “civilizing” effect on Peter, influenced his choice of clothing. Evidence has survived that in 1691 Peter often copied Lefort’s manner of dress, appearing in French clothing. Still, the monarch’s clothes were more modest, not matching Lefort’s stylish flourishes, and he did not cover himself in precious gems.

Peter was not a flamboyant dresser and was frugal in his personal expenditures, often wearing simple clothing of crude cloth, shirts without cuffs, and wigs without powder. He could also be a bit sloppy, showing up in company in patched stockings and boots with worn-down heels. He was repelled by the sumptuousness and morals of Versailles. The memoirist Saint-Simon attributes him with the following statement: “Great harm will sooner or later befall this city [Paris] from luxury and excess, and it will die of the stench.” The eighteenth-century statesman Andrei Nartov recorded another comment by Peter: “It’s fine to adopt art and science from the French without adopting their morals.” According to the contemporary historian Yelena Suslina, “Peter’s sympathies tended toward Holland and Northern Germany, where there was a restrained attitude toward French fashions.” Indeed, in 1693, when visiting Arkhangelsk, the tsar appeared dressed as a Dutch sailor.

One interesting aspect of the Grand Embassy – the diplomatic mission that Peter undertook in 1697-98, traveling incognito using the pseudonym Peter Mikhailov – is that the Russian diplomats, who at first made an odd impression in their heavy and exotic boyar robes, by January 1698 had switched to European dress. This switch was a milestone for Russian culture. After the Embassy’s return to Moscow, Peter started a culture war, a fight against the long, broad-sleeved boyar garb. Peter initiated the war during the mock consecration of the Lefort Palace, at which a multitude of guests showed up in traditional Russian dress: brightly colored zipuns (simple collarless knee-length jackets) covered by caftans whose long sleeves were gathered at the wrists using bracelets. The caftan, in turn, was covered by a feriaz – a broad and long velvet robe fastened with numerous buttons. These layers were topped off by a fur coat. A witness to this day reported that the tsar took a pair of scissors and started to shorten the guests’ sleeves, commenting that “These are in the way, you’re bound to have some adventure; either you’ll break some glass or you might be inattentive and get it into your soup; and you can use this,” the tsar pointed to the lopped-off pieces of sleeve, “to sew yourselves boots.” Before long, his subjects were following the tsar’s example, parading about in short and comfortable European-style caftans, now made of homespun material quite different from their previous sumptuous dress adorned with brocade, velvet and silk.

It is important to understand the historical and cultural significance of these changes. Foreign clothing, according to the eighteenth-century historian Mikhail Shcherbatov, “erased the difference between Russians and foreigners” and even, on a superficial level, transformed the Muscovite into a full-fledged “citizen of Europe.” Since such clothing was a sign of social standing (it was worn primarily by society’s highest class), its introduction and adoption across Russia was also helped along by the nobility’s desire to clearly distinguish itself from members of the other social estates.

But “alien clothing” (as Peter called it) had more than a superficial effect: it signaled the entry onto the historical stage of the Russian “sagacious gentleman,” a man not just outwardly reflecting Western European standards, but a civilized citizen. Such a man was expected to combined “learnedness,” military valor, devotion to the idea of the “common good,” selflessness, and gallantry. So innovations in the area of clothing played an important role in paving the way toward more substantive advances, including overcoming deep-seated xenophobia and other vestiges of the past. The eighteenth-century poet and playwright Alexander Sumarokov made the insightful comment that: “Peter the Great would have had no need to change their garb... had there not been such old-fashioned obstinacy under that old-fashioned clothing... This was the first heresy committed by the superstitious against the enlightenment era.”

On the topic of superstition, the cultural historian Boris Uspensky has argued that the adoption of German dress took on a special meaning in the eyes of Peter’s contemporaries because of its similarity to depictions of devils in Russian iconography. This was the context in which Russians had long been familiar with this manner of dress, and it had a very specific meaning in iconography. Russians felt as if Peter was dressing them up like devils.

Foreign dress had other associations. A 1701 woodblock print based on an earlier one by Ivan (Jan) Tessing titled “A Mirror for the Sinner” showed a man and woman in German dress. The accompanying Russian inscription read:

Woe, woe, the world thinks not of the eternal good,
It walks in vain finery and so adorns itself,
In lechery it seeks its pleasure,
Led by pleasantness to something furtively perpetrate!

Ах, ах, мир о вечном благому не помышляет,
Ходит в суетном убранстве и сим ся украшает,
В любодействе ищет себя удоволити,
Чрез приятность нечто тайно сотворити!.

Nevertheless, despite some resistance to the innovations, on January 4, 1700 it was decreed that the entire male population “in Moscow and in the towns,” with the exception of peasants and the clergy, was required to wear foreign dress “in the Hungarian manner.” Subsequent decrees included German and French clothing, for women as well as men. Agents were posted at the Moscow city gates to extract a fine from violators of the decree and cut and tear their old-fashioned clothing.

This campaign targeted both everyday attire and festive dress. According to a decree issued February 18, 1702, everyone, from “tsareviches” to “people of the lowest rank” were required to dress a certain way “on festive and ceremonial days,” and the decree strictly specified who could wear a doublet or caftan and of what sort and out of what fabric. For Peter, the traditional garb of Muscovy was an irritating symbol of old times. Now that people were clothed in more “rational” European attire, free of cumbersome sleeves, broad collars, towering heavy hats, and fur coats that reached the ground, they began to move more freely and live and think in new ways.

The foreign clothing that Peter brought to Russia was primarily influenced by the fashions of the seventeenth-century French court. By the eighteenth century, this mode of dress was admired across Europe, and France was the legislator of fashion for a long time to come. Although the differences among the dress codes of European nations (Saxon, German, Hungarian) were subtle, they had basically the same cut and were based on the same French fashions that Peter had adopted. The fact that John Perry, a British engineer in Russian service, had claimed that the tsar was following an English mode of dress is simply confirmation of the universality of the French model.

The French fashion that the tsar favored was described as “militaristic” insofar as it was strongly influenced by soldiers’ uniforms. Peter himself was an adherent of an austere and simple military style of clothing, valued its functionality, and had little patience for embellishment, so his campaign against the sumptuous, gem-studded attire of the Muscovite boyar is easy to understand. The tsar saw fancy clothing as a wasteful business, and believed that intelligence was incompatible with a luxuriously decorated home.

But even more than sumptuousness in clothing, the tsar was infuriated by attire suggesting idleness. And idleness is what he saw in the “Shpanish” doublet and puffy breeches, which were designed for leisurely civilian rather than vigorous military use. Like French clothing, Spanish clothing consisted of a doublet, broadbrimmed hat, and lacy collars and cuffs. However, waist-down, it was quite different, with puffy pantaloons down to the knees, long black stockings that were attached to the pantaloons with special fasteners decorated with lace, and silk shoes with bows or rosettes made of lace or colored silk. Peter saw going out in such dress as tantamount to a violation of public order meriting the “utmost fervor” on the part of St. Petersburg’s chief of police. This was the manner of dress that deserved a good cudgeling. This over-reaction no doubt stemmed from Peter’s innate closemindedness and impulsivity and the zealousness with which he stood up for his biases. (Peter had a reputation of being “quick to lash out.”) Furthermore, the tsar really did see a danger in the spread of such “impudent” foppishness, as epitomized in the “Shpanish” manner of dress.

There was also a clear educational aspect to Peter’s decrees. The fact that the words “MINOR CHILDREN” [nedorosli] were capitalized suggests that this order should be seen in the context of other enactments targeting the younger generation. He specifies “the minor children of in some way eminent fathers – dukes, counts, and barons.” This was the first time that Peter publicly cast a scornful eye at a phenomenon that in more recent times has been referred to as “golden youth.” And this subset of young men who hid behind the backs of their wealthy and highly placed fathers was associated in Peter’s mind with foppishness, albeit not always “impudent.”

According to the eighteenth-century historian Ivan Golikov:

Upon his return to Petersburg, one son of a wealthy father sent to France, wishing to show himself off to the city, would stroll down the streets in white silk stockings, in a lavish outfit of the latest fashion, and covered in fragrant powder. To his misfortunate, he was wearing just such an outfit when he ran into the monarch riding a gig to work at the Admiralty. His Majesty, after calling him over, began a conversation about French fashions, about the Parisian way of life, and about what he was currently occupied with, and so forth. This fop was supposed to answer all these questions while walking next to the gig’s wheel, and the monarch did not let him go until he saw him all spattered and besmirched in mud.

This episode is a clear example of the sort of guile Peter was famous for among his contemporaries (a feigned interest in Parisian fashions that he actually considered superfluous grandeur) and his categorical dislike of foppishness among the young (even if it was not, in this case, “impudent”).

Another noteworthy aspect of the decree is the admonition: “No regard shall be paid to the rank and eminence of the fathers.” These were not empty words; it was a conscious government position, a rejection of nepotism in favor of an approach that valued people solely in terms of how “useful” they were – in terms of their personal service to the state. The era’s entire legal system – with the 1722 Table of Ranks as its cornerstone – was based on this principle. Indeed, the tsar punished lawbreakers without regard to any powerful relatives they might have. One example is the punishment he inflected on the nephew of the renowned field marshal, Count Boris Sheremetev, after said nephew chose to marry the daughter of Prince Fyodor Romodanovsky (head of the country’s first secret police) instead of going abroad for his studies.

The decree also describes the young men in “Shpanish” dress as violating etiquette and the “dictates of style.” What etiquette was he referring to? After all, Peter saw all court etiquette and ceremony as oppressive. (This is one reason he introduced the special position of “Prince Caesar,” a position Romodanovsky held for many years.) Peter also expressed his distaste for ceremony in the early 1690s. According to Prince Kurakin, “As far as court ceremonies were concerned, this was the very time when they began to die out... And public audiences were largely dispensed with.”

“He shows no concern for ceremonies and assigns them no significance, or at least pretends that he pays no attention,” said the Dutch envoy Just Juel. “In general, among his courtiers there is no marshal, no master of ceremonies, no gentleman of the bedchamber, and my audience resembled a simple visit rather than an audience.” The historian Mikhail Bogoslovsky described the torment the emperor felt during a ceremonial reception of the Persian ambassador in August 1723: “He was perspiring profusely from nerves and kept sniffing tobacco as the ambassador was giving a long and florid speech and when he later, in keeping with Eastern custom, crawled up the steps to the throne to kiss the emperor’s hand. He heaved a huge sigh of relief and fled the throne room as soon as this ceremony, so exhausting for him, concluded.”

Peter’s idea of etiquette had more to do with the morality and high-society manners that were widely adhered to at that time and that reflected a sort of code of behavior for the Russian nobility. This code is spelled out in a handwritten manuscript copied by the Petersburg German poet and translator, the panegyrist Johann Werner Paus. The manual contains invectives against foppishness on the part of children of wealthy fathers: “If parents give a new outfit — do not praise them, and do no jump for joy before them: that befits monkeys and peacocks. A wealthy braggart in his fancy attire is actually insulting misfortune and poverty and provoking hatred. It is therefore becoming for youth to wear modest clothing.”

In the same, somewhat puritanical spirit we have The Honest Mirror of Youth, which was produced on Peter’s orders and went through many editions: “Young ladies must resist any impulse toward wickedness and any harmful amusement, such as malicious talk, unclean habits and deeds, nasty words, lightminded and alluring dress, wanton letters, wanton songs, stories, riddles, and silly sayings and disdainful amusements and taunts, as all these are abominations before God.” There were also purely practical recommendations:

Young lads should not snort and blink their eyes, nor should they shake their neck and shoulders, as if from habit, nor do mischief with their hands, nor grab or perform other such savagery, so that taunting not lead to actual habits and customs, as adopting such habits quite disfigures and brings shame onto a young lad so that afterward, in homes, people mockingly tease him for such behavior.

In addition to the wearing of European clothing, Petrine-era etiquette required skill in the performance of French, German, and Polish dances (it is noteworthy that, in 1703), the curriculum of Ernst Gluck’s school in Moscow included “The Art of Dancing and Development of French and German Manners”), fluency in foreign languages, as well as the ability to write and speak eloquently. Although Peter himself never acquired the mannerisms of high society, he wanted his subjects to master them. He even put together instructions to be used as a sort of manual of behavior at court. The guidance it offers is quite down-to-earth: “Do not lie in bed while in footwear, neither boots nor shoes”; “Whoever is given a card with the number of his bed, that is where he should sleep. Do not move your bed or let another sleep in it or sleep in anyone else’s.”

Instruction manuals were also published about letter writing, intended to cover any situation, like the book: How to Compose Various Compliments (1708). A special section was devoted to achieving gallantry in “Congratulatory Letters to the Female Sex.”

So, the “dictates of style” were very specifically spelled out, and did not leave room for “Shpanish doublets and pantaloons.” Indeed, there is no evidence that anyone appeared in such attire after the decree was issued. What is truly noteworthy here is that the tsar claimed the right to introduce, permit, or ban a particular manner of dress. All he needed to do was label a fashion he found distasteful “impudent foppishness” to prevent it from ever again offending his gaze.

Peter was not the only Russian monarch to dictate his subject’s manner of dressing. Both Catherine I (Peter’s widow) and Elizabeth (his daughter) issued decrees and orders pertaining to their subjects’ attire. This practice reached its apogee under Paul I, when the wearing of round-brimmed hats (Paul favored the tricornered version), waistcoats, and pantaloons entailed severe punishment. Paul associated such dress with the perils of Jacobinism. Although Peter never had such ideological associations, he saw the offending attire as no less dangerous, as they suggested a militant idleness. And during that dynamic era when Peter aspired to subject Russia to centuries’ worth of transformation in a matter of decades, idleness was unacceptable. Peter understood that, and his decree banning “Shpanish” dress and “impudent foppishness” was emblematic of his larger mission of shaking Russia out of its age-old lethargy.