River of Smoke - Amitav Ghosh [118]
‘I doubt that Mr Innes would be stopped by the lack of an invitation,’ said Dent with a laugh. ‘He will brook no hindrance from anyone but the Almighty Himself.’
Bahram had only a nodding acquaintance with Innes but he knew him well by repute: although well-born he was a wild, wilful character, who did exactly as he pleased. He was a brawler, forever getting into fights, and in Bombay no respectable merchant would deal with him for he was regarded as an inveterate troublemaker. As a result he was forced to obtain his consignments of opium from petty dalals – and thieves and dacoits too, for all that anyone knew.
He was surprised now, to hear Dent speaking of Innes with approbation.
‘It is men like Innes who will resolve our present difficulties,’ Dent said. ‘These are the free spirits who will thwart the designs of tyrants. If there is anyone who can be considered a crusader in the cause of Free Trade it is he.’
‘What do you mean, Lancelot?’
Dent’s eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘Are you perhaps unaware, Barry, that Innes is the only man who is still transporting cargoes of opium into Canton? He believes it to be God’s will, so he continues to bring the chests upriver in his own cutters, defying the Emperor’s ban. It wouldn’t be possible of course if he did not have local allies – everyone is paid off on the way, the customs men, the mandarins, everyone. He has had no trouble so far – it is proof that the natural cupidity which is the foundation of human freedom will always prevail against the whims of tyrants.’
Dent leant closer to Bahram’s ear. ‘I will tell you this in confidence Barry: Innes has disposed of several dozen cases for me in the last few weeks. I would be glad to speak to him on your behalf.’
‘Oh no,’ said Bahram quickly. It made him cringe to think of what would be said of him in Bombay if it ever came to be known that he was dealing with a man like Innes. ‘Please do not trouble yourself, Lancelot. That will not be necessary.’
To Bahram’s alarm, Innes seemed to have guessed that he was being talked about for he turned around suddenly, with a scowl on his face. All of a sudden Bahram was seized by the notion that Innes would ask him to dance. This so panicked him that he grabbed Dent’s hand: ‘Come, Lancelot,’ he said. ‘It is time to dance.’
Nine
Markwick’s Hotel, November 21
My dear, dear Begum of Pugglabad, Good news! At last I am able to report some progress in the matter of your camellia. It is not a great step, but it is a step nonetheless – and I am hopeful, not just in regard to your painting but to that other quest, even closer to my heart …!
But I will come to that later: suffice it to say that none of this would have come about if I had not done something I should have done ages ago: I have finally summoned the courage to visit the most celebrated artist in Canton: Mr Guan Ch’iao-chang.
And now that I have done it, I positively berate myself for not having gone earlier: how could I have been such a gudda? But I must not be too hard on myself for the fault is not mine alone: the blame goes, in large part, to my Uncle.
You will have heard from Mr Penrose that Mr Chinnery holds the painters of Canton in utter scorn and positively bridles if they are spoken of as Artists. He regards them as the merest craftsmen, no better than the potters and tinkers who set up shop by the roadside. And in this he is not alone: this is the opinion also of Chinese connoisseurs; they too are dismissive of the Canton style of painting which is indeed utterly different from the manner that commands admiration in China. Nor are the painters of Canton of the same ilk as the great Chinese artists of old: they are not from famously cultivated families and they are neither great scholars nor high-ranking officials nor illuminati. They are the kind of people whose forebears were malis and peasants and khidmatgars and labourers in workshops – humble, strong and virile. Mr Karabedian has made a study of the subject, for some of the craftsmen he buys watches from are of the same stock. He says that the