Vox Meditantis

26th September 1801

The silence of this walled garden weighs heavy upon my spirit this evening, broken only by the soft thud of over-ripe pears falling from the espaliered branches. Each sound marks the passage of wealth – for what is a spoilt harvest but coin that might have been? I have spent these last hours amongst my physick herbs, cataloguing what remains of this season’s yield, and find my thoughts turning ever to the vexing matter of earthly treasure.

The robins speak in whispers now, their summer songs grown thin, and I confess their muted discourse puts me in mind of my own circumstances. Mrs. Ellwood paid her account this morning – three shillings for the tincture of willow bark that eased her rheumatic complaints – yet still I find myself calculating what might be gained should the peace with Bonaparte hold true. Already the price of laudanum has fallen a penny per dram, and I fear what further disruption to trade these preliminaries may bring to an honest apothecary’s purse.

A curious meditation occurred to me as I pruned the rosemary bush, its aromatic leaves rustling beneath my shears. Were I freed from all concern of maintaining shop and hearth, what labours might I pursue? The question bears pondering, though I confess it borders upon the fantastical.

First, I should wish to compose a proper treatise upon the virtues of English simples – not for gain, but that future generations might benefit from observations I have gathered these twenty years past. Too many secrets of herb-craft die with their keepers, and this seems a waste of Heaven’s bounty.

Second, I find myself drawn to the notion of instructing young men in the healing arts, after the manner of the ancients. Not the mere dispensing of draughts and powders, but the true understanding of how the four humours govern man’s constitution. There is satisfaction in seeing ignorance give way to knowledge, though it pays no rent.

Third – and here I admit to a folly that even now makes me smile – I should dearly love to cultivate nothing save flowers. Roses and jasmine, lavender and Sweet William, planted for no purpose but their beauty and fragrance. A gentleman’s pursuit, this, and far removed from the practical necessities that now govern my days.

The evening air grows chill, and I hear the distant toll of St. Mary’s bell marking the hour. Eight strokes – time enough wasted in idle fancies. The widow Gladwin will call tomorrow for her digestive powders, and young Master Bourne requires another bottle of the febrifuge that has served him so well. These are the realities that put bread upon my table and coal in my grate.

Yet as I close this journal, I cannot help but notice how the falling leaves make music against the cobbled path – a gentle percussion that speaks of change, of seasons turning, of the eternal cycle that governs all earthly things. Perhaps there is wisdom in attending to such sounds, even whilst one’s hands remain busy with the business of this world.

The Almighty’s design encompasses both the practical and the beautiful, the profitable and the pure. If I am to serve His will faithfully, surely I must tend to both with equal care – though I confess the former weighs more heavily upon my mind as winter approaches.

Late Georgian Britain witnessed a brief lull in European warfare with the London preliminaries of October 1801 and the subsequent Treaty of Amiens in March 1802, which temporarily ended the French Revolutionary Wars between Britain and Napoleonic France. This interlude raised hopes for cheaper goods and revived trade after years of scarcity and conflict, while demobilisation and strained harvests shaped daily life. The peace proved short-lived: disagreements over colonial restitutions, Malta’s status, and French military presence in Europe led to renewed hostilities in May 1803, beginning the Napoleonic Wars. The conflict ultimately reshaped European borders and British imperial commitments, influencing commerce, agriculture, and public finance for decades.

Bob Lynn | © 2025 Vox Meditantis. All rights reserved. | 🌐 Translate