Commerce had become willy-nilly the nearest equivalent. It occupied one of the largest buildings in Fanqui-town: House No. 2 in the Danish Factory. On the ground floor were the Chamber’s offices and the Great Hall, which was large enough to accommodate meetings of the entire General Body. The social facilities were on the floor above: this part of the building was known as ‘the Club’ and those members who were willing to pay the extra dues could avail themselves of a smoking room, a taproom, a library, a reception room, a veranda, where tiffin was served when the weather permitted, and a dining room with windows that looked out on a tidal sandbank called Shamian.
The building had yet another floor, above, where lay several sumptuous suites and boardrooms. These were closed to all but a few – the President and the members of the powerful Committee that ran the Chamber. Officially this body was known as the ‘Committee of the Chamber’ – but in Fanqui-town everyone spoke of it simply as ‘The Committee’.
There was one respect however in which the Chamber differed quite markedly from the Bengal and Byculla clubs: the exclusion of Asiatics was here a matter of discretion rather than procedure. This policy was necessitated by the peculiar circumstances of the Canton trade, in which a very large proportion of the incoming goods were shipped from Bombay and Calcutta. Since many of the supply chains, especially of Malwa opium, were controlled by Indian businessmen it was acknowledged to be impolitic to enforce too rigidly the racial norms that were followed by the clubs of the Indian subcontinent. Instead the Chamber’s dues were fixed at very elevated levels, ostensibly to discourage undesirables of all sorts. It was the custom moreover for the Committee to include at least one Parsi – usually the most senior member of the community then in residence in Canton. Among the Bombay merchants this was a hugely coveted appointment, a coronation of sorts, because the Committee was in effect the foreign enclave’s unofficial Cabinet.
Bahram had been in Canton only a week when Vico came up to the daftar with a letter that was stamped with the seal of Mr Hugh Hamilton Lindsay, the current President of the Chamber of Commerce and thus also the head of the Committee. Being well-versed in the conventions and usages of Fanqui-town Vico had a fair idea of what the letter was about. He grinned broadly as he held it up: Look, patrao, see what has come!
The letter was not unexpected, of course, but Bahram was still conscious of an almost childlike thrill when he cracked the seal. This was what he had dreamt of when he first came to Canton, decades ago: to be recognized as the leader of Canton’s Achhas.
He smiled: Yes, Vico – I’ve been invited to join the Committee.
Accompanying the letter was a hand-written note inviting Bahram to a dinner where several other members of the Committee would be present.
Bahram looked up to find Vico grinning as though the triumph were his own. Arre patrao! See what you have become now? You are a Seth of Seths – a Nagar-seth, a Jagat-seth! The whole world is at your feet.
Bahram tried to shrug off the tribute but when he glanced at the letter again his chest swelled with pride: he folded it carefully and slipped it into the chest-pouch of his angarkha, where it lay close to his heart; it was proof that he had now joined the ranks of such great merchants as Seth Jamsetjee Readymoney and Seth Jamsetjee Jeejeebhoy; it was confirmation that he, Bahramji Naurozji Modi, whose mother had made ends meet by embroidering shawls, had become a leader amongst a group that included some of the world’s richest men.
The next morning, Zadig walked into the daftar, with his arms wide open: Arre, Bahram-bhai! Is it true that you’ve been invited to join the Committee?
It did not surprise Bahram that Zadig was abreast of the news. Yes, Zadig Bey, it’s true.
Mabrook Bahram-bhai! I’m really glad.
Oh it’s no great thing, said Bahram modestly. The Committee is just a place for people to talk. Behind the scenes it’ll be the same people making all the decisions.
Zadig answered with an emphatic shake of his head. Oh no Bahram-bhai. That may have been true in the past, but it’s going to change very soon.
What do you mean? said Bahram.
Haven’t you heard? said Zadig with a smile. William Jardine has decided to leave Canton. He is going back to England!
This took Bahram completely by surprise: William Jardine had been for at least a decade the most influential man in Fanqui-town. His firm, Jardine, Matheson amp; Company, was one of the largest players in the Canton trade and he had for years been pushing aggressively to expand the Chinese opium market. In India, too, Jardine had an extensive network of friends and was idolized by many: within Bombay’s business circles Bahram was one of the few to be less than smitten with him. This was because Jardine had close ties with a rival Parsi firm and this alliance had caused Bahram many headaches in the past. For Bahram, Jardine’s departure was a thing so fervently to be wished for that he could not believe that it might actually happen.
Are you sure, Zadig Bey? Why would Jardine leave for England? He hasn’t been home in years.
The choice isn’t his any more, said Zadig. The Chinese authorities have come to know that his company has been sending ships to the northern ports of China, looking for new outlets for opium. The rumour is that they’re planning to throw Jardine out of the country. Rather than face extradition he will leave on his own.
With Jardine gone, said Bahram, everything will change in the Chamber.
Yes, said Zadig with a smile. I think you’ll find yourself making many new friends. In fact I wouldn’t be surprised if you received some overtures even from Mr Dent.
Dent? Lancelot Dent?
Who else?
Lancelot Dent was the younger brother of Thomas Dent, who had founded one of Canton’s most important business houses: Dent amp; Company. Bahram had known Tom Dent for a long time: a Scotsman of the old school, he was thrifty, modest and unpretentious; he and Bahram had always got on well with each other and for some years they had worked as partners, competing successfully with the formidable Jardine, Matheson combine. But some nine or ten years ago, Tom Dent’s health had begun to fail and he had returned to Britain, leaving the company in the hands of his younger brother – and Lancelot Dent was an entirely different kind of man, glib of tongue, nakedly ambitious, resentful of his competitors and dismissive of those he considered less gifted than himself. His friends were few and his enemies legion, but even the worst of them could not deny that Lancelot Dent was a brilliant and far-sighted businessman: it was public knowledge that under his leadership the profits of Dent amp; Company had overtaken those of Jardine, Matheson. Yet, despite his commercial successes, Lancelot Dent had never commanded much influence in Fanqui-town; unlike Jardine, who was charming as well as ambitious, he was an awkward, abrasive man, with little talent for endearing himself to others. He had certainly never gone out of his way to befriend Bahram – and for his part, Bahram too had kept his distance, for he had had the impression that the younger man regarded him as a quaint old character with superannuated notions.
I’ve hardly exchanged a word with Lancelot Dent since Tom left for England.
Zadig laughed. Yes, but you weren’t on the Committee then, Bahram-bhai, hai-na? You wait and see. He’ll be chatting you up very soon. And nor will he be the only one.
Why do you say that?
The Angrezes – and I mean by that the Americans as well as the British – are not all of one mind right now. There’s a lot of confusion about what has been happening here these last few months. Jardine and his party have been pushing for a show of force from the British government. But there are other views too: there are some who think this is just a passing phase and the opium trade will soon be back to what it was.
But that is possible, isn’t it? said Bahram. After all, the Chinese have made noises about putting a stop to the trade before. For a few months there’s a big tamasha about it and then it all goes back to normal.
Zadig shook his head: Not this time, Bahram-bhai. It’s different now; I think the Chinese are serious this time.
Why do you say that, Zadig Bey?
Just look around you, Bahram-bhai. Did you see a single fast-crab on your way down to Canton? When they were first seized and burned some people said it was only a gesture, and new boats would be back on the river in a couple of months. But no. Some of the retailers did try to rebuild their crabs, and the mandarins burned them again. In the last few weeks they have arrested hundreds of opium-dealers; some have been thrown in prison, some have been executed. It’s become almost impossible to bring opium ashore. It’s reached a point where the fanquis have started doing something they had never done before: they have begun transporting the drug themselves. They hide it in their cutters and pinnaces and send it upriver with their lascars. That way, if the boats are caught, they’ll pass
