11. On the Debate by the Honorable, Learned Scholars Dr. Cheynell, an Englishman, and Dr. Monardes, a Spaniard, with the Foolish and Ignorant English King and His Sycophantic Servants Who Present Themselves before the Civilized World As Physicians — to Their and Their Chieftain’s Great Shame
I have always thought that the English king is a fool. The present one, as well as all those before him.
Our Spanish king, on the contrary, is an intelligent man. But he is crazy. That, I presume, is the main reason why we have not yet conquered their small, forested island. The other reason is most likely that Señor de Leca has no financial interest in that. Because — let’s not deceive ourselves — conquering their useless island would take a big army and a huge amount of money — and for what? A few fields, meadows, sheep, forests, some rocky peaks up in the north, and a slate mine here and there. Duke de Alba would get the best of them in the end, as he does with everyone, but it would be quite difficult, would take a long time, and would cost an enormous sum. It is much better to invest those funds in conquering the Indies, which will repay you richly — with ten thousand or so thugs you can conquer boundless lands; rivers of gold and silver, tobacco, and all sorts of exotic goods will flow your way. Who needs that small rain-soaked island up north? Yes, Señor de Leca is right, as usual.
But I have strayed from the topic, or rather I would have strayed if I had begun it in the first place. And the topic is as follows: the debate, which the English King James I organized at Oxford on the topic “Whether the frequent use of tobacco is good for healthy men?” The question mark here is pure hypocrisy and is intended solely to satisfy the formal requirements of debate. Because the truth is — and everyone knows it — that James is a great opponent of tobacco and — in the words of Mr. Frampton, who received this information from inside sources — the king intended to use this forum to introduce his latest essay, entitled “A Counterblast to Tobacco,” and to stigmatize that good plant with the help of several stooges. The ultimate goal of this operation, according to Mr. Frampton, was to raise the duty on tobacco two- or three-fold. And when you take into account how in demand that commodity is, Mr. Frampton said, that would significantly increase the royal treasury’s income.
In any case, we decided to attend the debate, especially because there were many lovers of that transatlantic panacea at Oxford, so the king’s argument could hardly slip by without meeting some kind of resistance. Thus, from Goody Jane’s we headed south to Oxford and arrived there shortly before the debate.
We went into the packed ceremonial hall at Christ College, where the event in question would take place, and at that foolish Frampton’s insistence, and alas, Dr. Monardes’ as well, I was saddled with the task of recording the statements made at the debate. For this purpose and with the aid of Mr. Frampton, who had acquaintances here, I was seated at a long table at the end of the platform designated for all those taking notes. Thanks to Mr. Frampton, I was seated next to Isaac Wake himself, the public orator of the university, who was recording the event for Oxford. There were several bearded ninnies to my other side, whose names I didn’t bother to remember or even to learn. Mr. Wake, however, was a very pleasant man with wonderful manners and a murmuring voice, whose speech flowed like silver — as the saying goes, who knows why — and with whom I conducted a pleasant conversation, at least until the moment at which I told him — as a joke, of course — that with a name like his, he was very lucky he didn’t live in Spain, and even though he laughed kindly, after that he refused to utter a single word, and responded to my questions by nodding and shaking his head — for the affirmative or the negative, respectively, as it were — and when that was impossible, he put his finger to his lips, which were pursed as if to say “sh-h-h,” even thought he didn’t say it. A sly Jew, no doubt about it. I wondered whether his family wasn’t one of those whom the Spanish king had chased out many years ago, and perhaps I had inadvertently touched on a sore topic. But how could I have known?
In the meantime, the debate had begun with a speech by the English king, who was met by applause and standing ovations from the public — we were also forced to stand up, and I clapped along with everyone else, unlike, as I noticed, Dr. Monardes, who was blowing his nose at that moment. But I was even more stunned by Mr. Frampton, who was indeed clapping, but not like the others, but with the backs of his hands. I’ll be damned! I would’ve done it, too, if we scribes hadn’t been on the platform itself, so close to the king. An empty formality wasn’t worth creating Lord knows what kinds of trouble for oneself.
The king was dressed in a black jacket, cinched at the waist and covered in gold embroidery; from beneath it flowed the sleeves of a loose shirt in the same green and white stripes, with a high pleated collar. Below the jacket the king wore green and white striped pumpkin pants reaching to mid-thigh, with grey silk stockings beneath them reaching down to his long pointed shoes, which were white. He had a waist-length red mantle draped over his shoulders, from beneath which the gilded handle of his sword peeked out. He also wore a cap with a pheasant feather, gloves, and a chain with a large gold cross on his chest.
After the applause died down and the audience once again sat down, he took the podium and paused for a long moment, probably to intensify the dramatic effect, before saying: “Learned gentlemen, our fortunate and oft proved valor in wars abroad, our hearty and reverent obedience to our Princes at home, hath bred us a long, and a thrice happy peace: Our Peace hath bred wealth: And Peace and wealth hath brought forth a general sluggishness, which makes us wallow in all sorts of idle delights, and soft delicacies, the first seeds of the subversion of all great monarchies.”
Aha, I thought to myself, so that’s the bone sticking in your throat, is it? The subversion of the monarchy. You’re afraid they’ll pull the rug out from under you. Then no more pumpkin pants, no more pointy shoes, no more gilded sword — back to Nature, an animal among animals. Or, as is far more likely in this case, straight to the chopping block.
“And surely in my opinion,” he continued, “there cannot be a more base, and yet hurtful, corruption in a Country, then is the vile use — or rather abuse — of taking Tobacco, which hath moved me shortly to unmask this vile custom. And now, good countrymen,” he gestured to the public with a broad sweep of his arm, “let us, I pray you, consider, what honor or policy can move us to imitate the barbarous and beastly manners of the wild, godless, and slavish Indians, especially in so vile and stinking a custom? Shall we that disdain to imitate the manners of our neighbor France (having the title of the first Christian Kingdom) and that cannot endure the spirit of the Spaniards (their King being now comparable in largeness of dominions to the great Emperor of Turkey) — Shall we, I say, without blushing, abase ourselves so far, as to imitate these beastly Indians, slaves to the Spaniards, refuse to the world, and as yet aliens from the holy Covenant of God? Why do we not as well imitate them in walking naked as they do? In preferring glass, feathers, and such toys to gold and precious stones, as they do? Yea,” he raised his voice, “why do we not deny God and adore the Devil, as they do?”
These last words were met with wild applause from the audience. But not from Dr. Monardes and Mr. Frampton, whom I glanced at — Dr. Monardes was once again blowing his nose, while Mr. Frampton was clapping in his extremely unusual manner. I scribbled down various things on my paper, pretending to take notes, at least until the moment I noticed that Isaac Wake was looking askance at me. I then drew a Star of David on my sheet. Wake quickly averted his gaze. The ninny on my other side, however, stared bug-eyed at the star on my sheet. I quickly crossed it out and grabbed my quill such that I — ostensibly accidentally — showed him my middle finger. After that, they both left me alone.