The way in which our laws attempt to regulate the wasteful and vain expenditure on tables and clothing seems to be contrary to its purpose. The real way would be to make men despise gold and silk as vain and useless things; and we increase their honor and value, which is a very inept way to make men dislike them; for to say that only Princes can eat turbot and wear velvet and gold braid, and to forbid it to the people, is to give credence to these things and to make everyone want to use them.
Let the kings boldly abandon these trappings of grandeur; they have enough others: such excesses are more excusable in anyone other than a prince. By the example of several nations, we can learn enough of better ways to distinguish ourselves externally and our degrees (which I truly believe to be well required in a state), without fostering for this purpose this corruption and inconvenience so apparent. It is wonderful how custom, in these indifferent matters, easily and suddenly plants the foot of its authority. Barely a year had passed, due to the mourning of King Henry II, for bringing cloth to the court, and it is certain that by then, in everyone’s opinion, silks had become so vile that, if you saw someone wearing them, you would immediately think of a townie. They were shared out between doctors and surgeons; and, although everyone was more or less dressed the same, there were also clear distinctions in the qualities of the men. How suddenly the filthy coats of chamois and canvas come to be honored among our armies; and the dirtiness and richness of the clothing, to blame and scorn.
Let the Kings begin to abandon these expenses, it will be done in a month, without edict or ordinance: we will all follow. The Law should say, on the contrary, that crimson and gold work is forbidden to all kinds of people, except for jesters and courtesans. Zeleucus corrected the corrupt morals of the Locrians with a similar invention. His ordinances were as follows: that a free woman may not have more than one maid following her, unless she is drunk; nor could she go out of the city at night; nor wear gold jewelry around her person, nor a robe enriched with embroidery, if she is not a public whore; that, except for the ruffians, a man should not wear a gold ring on his finger, nor a delicate robe, such as those woven in the city of Miletus. And thus, through these shameful exceptions, he ingeniously diverted his citizens from superfluities and pernicious delights. It was a very useful way of attracting men to obedience through honor and ambition. Our kings can do everything in such external reforms; their inclination serves as law.
What princes do, they seem to command. (Quintilian)
The rest of France takes the court’s rule as its own. Let them dislike this ugly shoe that so reveals our hidden limbs; this heavy magnification of cheeks, which makes us all other than we are, so inconvenient to arm; these long, effeminate braids of hair; this custom of kissing what we present to our companions and our hands when greeting them, a ceremony once due only to Princes; and that a gentleman finds himself in a place of respect without a sword at his side, all unbraided and detached, as if he had come from the wardrobe; and that, contrary to the customs of our fathers and the particular freedom of the nobility of this Kingdom, we stand uncovered far around them wherever they may be: and as around them, around a hundred others, so many tiercelets and quartelets of kings we have; and so other similar new and vicious introductions; they will be seen to instantly vanish and be discredited.
These are superficial errors, but nevertheless a bad omen; and we are warned that the massif is unmasking itself when we see the coating and crust of our walls cracking. Plato, in his laws, considers nothing more harmful to his city than to let the young take the liberty of changing from one form to another in customs, gestures, dances, exercises and songs: shifting his judgment now to this, now to that, running after novelties, honoring their inventors; whereby manners are corrupted, and all ancient institutions come to be disdained and despised. In all things, except simply in bad things, change is to be feared: change in the seasons, the winds, food, moods; and no laws are in their true credit, other than those to which God has given some ancient duration: so that no one knows their origin, nor that they have ever been other.