Soldier of Fortune

Now I feel I’m growing older 
And the songs that I have sung 
Echo in the distance 
Like the sound 
Of a windmill goin’ ’round 
I guess I’ll always be 
A soldier of fortune 

The above is taken from a Deep Purple song. Surprisingly, I love it through I can’t recall ever hearing the original. But in my head, I can hear Charlie Dlask, the singer of the band I played in as a teenager and someone who was taken by cancer far too early, letting the words drift amongst subdued chords as Paul (the drummer) and I basically made up the numbers on this song. It haunts me still.

The phrase “Soldier of Fortune” technically refers to mercenaries, which is a far from honourable profession in some cases. but it can also be used metaphorically to refer to those who take up a quest in pursuit of fame and/or fortune.

And to tie it up neatly, there’s Robert Fortune, who headed off with expectations of a big paycheque and immortality when the British East India Company asked him to pop over to China and steal the secrets of tea.

So in a way, all of us in the tea business in the West are Soldiers of Fortune, carving our niche in Robert Fortune’s wake.

It was therefore an almost spiritual quest to visit the Chelsea Physic Garden; from whence Robert Fortune – traveler, gardener and adventurer – went on leave to gather the secrets of tea.

There are many accounts of how he did that, but this is not that story.

We arrived at the gates to the garden at 11:37 a.m. That’s a shame, as it opens at noon. A stroll along the Embankment and we return to find it open.

I have two goals – to be photographed next to a statue of Fortune and to have some great loose-leaf tea. I assumed both would be in evidence.

In the middle there is a large statue! Fortune? No! It’s Sir Hans Sloane, entrepreneur and chocolatier; who rented the gardens to the Society of Apothecaries back in the 1600s and whose descendants still get their crisp 5 pound note – the guaranteed rent in perpetuity – every year.

Since the guided tour starts in half an hour, we decided tea and cake first.

Lady D asked for the lavender scones, which are famous, but we were told “they might be ready by 3pm”. Great. You don’t open until noon, you close at 5 and you can’t get the scones ready? Not a great start.

But worse was to come. The tea was in tea bags.

I’m angry about this. It’s desecrating Fortune’s legacy. Of all the places to not have proper tea! Outrageous!

My anger grew as Lady D’s coffee was rubbish, my cake was dry and unappetising and the staff were quite rude. Whilst Lady D had a nice mariposa plum tart and they managed to sell me a bottle of sparkling water without stuffing that up, my anger grew.

We joined the guided tour.

The point of this garden was to grow plants for their medicinal uses; and over the years they have been very successful in various endeavours.

And the gardens, though small; are packed and beautiful. We learned a lot; although the “big surprise” we were kept waiting for turned out to be a grapefruit tree. Pretty unexciting for someone from Adelaide, but apparently amazing to Londoners.

After finding out that we are from Australia, the tour guide figured we’d be all over Joseph Banks. He’s a name that is drilled remorselessly into every Australian child; as our entire history syllabus covers about three subjects, one of which is Captain Cook’s famous voyage to Australia. Turns out Banks was a Curator at the CPG and they have dedicated a massive slab of it to him. Deservedly so.

They also have a couple of Wardian cases. I love these. They directly connect one to the adventures of Fortune. Here’s one now:

Whilst Fortune got a few mentions, it was late in the tour when he popped up again.

There’s a section of the garden dedicated to him, containing a few dozen of the more that 200 plants he introduced to Britain from his travels. And a photocopied bit of paper in a plastic sleeve.

But no statue.

To be fair, in the 400+ year history of the Garden, he was only curator for three years, and he was mostly absent for that time anyway, popping back to England to father another child on several occasions.

But he made tea possible and set the world on the course it was to take. Good, bad or indifferent, his actions have a deep, long and abiding legacy that can’t be ignored.

Besides, I really wanted a picture of him and I.

Eventually, we wound up at a pond.

And it is this pond that is dedicated to him. Not a statue. Not a bronze effigy of him, stern-faced and striding with purpose; but a pond in his name.

And I get that. Perhaps it is better to pay tribute with a living ecosystem than a lump of bronze.

And if I were to conclude here; I’d say pack a flask of good tea, take a blanket, pack up a small selection of cakes and pastries and head to the Chelsea Physic Garden; which is a small calm oasis along the Thames.

But there is a final footnote.

In the spirit of adventure; as a Soldier of Fortune; I tried all the doors on a greenhouse that appeared locked and found one open.

We carefully let ourselves into what appeared to be a Victorian fernery.

And there is was. A straggly, undignified shrub cutting, trying to reach a potential it normally reaches via warm weather and monsoonal rains.

Just quietly sitting there, as though it had not changed the world.

(This item is a draft of one written for the Forthcoming book “The heart of tea” and will appear in it in a  different form)