This incident reminds us of Catherine of Braganza, who tried to introduce short skirts, being desirous, as Lady Carteret told Pepys, “to have the feet seen,” probably, it is said, owing to her having, like most of her countrywomen, small, well-turned feet; but, despite her exhibiting herself in this new fashion, she found few imitators, the ladies of the Court adhering to their long-flowing draperies.
Another queen who had a strong aversion to artificial adjuncts was Mary Beatrice of Modena, wife of James II. It was the fashion for the ladies of the Court to paint, and, when the King told her that he wished her to do the same, she refused not only as a matter of taste, but from a religious scruple. But at last she consented and put on rouge, which, when Father Seraphin, a Capuchin friar of great sanctity, to his grief and surprise saw, he exclaimed, “Madame, I would rather see your Majesty yellow, or even green, than rouged”--a remark which much amused the Queen.
William III. one day asked Peter the Great what he thought of London, to which he replied “that he had been particularly pleased to see a simplicity, meekness, and modesty of dress in the richest nation of Europe.” The Czar was always very plain in his own dress, and a diplomatic agent who resided many years at his Court says: “I saw him in 1721 give a public audience to the ambassadors of Persia, when he entered the hall of audience in nothing more that a surtout of coarse brown cloth. When he was seated on the throne, the attendants brought him a coat of blue _gros de Naples_, embroidered with silver, which he discarded as soon as the ambassadors were gone. Catherine, who was present, was much amused at seeing the Czar in his spangled silk vest. He introduced the dress of Western Europe among his courtiers, but his subjects generally, it is said, were not so easily reconciled to the new fashion, which necessitated his laying tax on long coats, as he had already done on long beards.
Queen Anne was extremely particular in all matters of dress; and, it may be remembered, the wig costume of the Court was a source of much discomfort to Eugene of Savoy, in 1712. When Lord Bolingbroke once appeared before her in a simple tie-wig instead of a full-bottomed one--having been summoned in the utmost haste--she exclaimed, “I suppose that the next time his lordship appears at Court he will come in his night-cap.” Addison speaks in high praise of the coiffure then in fashion, which, as may be seen by the later portraits of Queen Anne, was elegant, the hair clustering in graceful curls down the back of the neck, “and though hair-powder was worn by some, her Majesty’s chestnut ringlets are unsullied by that composition.”[121]