On entering the British Factory, Bahram was met by a detachment of sepoys: they were aware of who he was and one of them led him to the Consulate’s library, where the meeting was to be held. This was a large, elegant room with tall shelves of leather-bound books ranged against the walls. At the far end, under a gilded mirror, was a fireplace and above it, a mantelpiece. The room was already full when Bahram arrived: glancing around it, Bahram saw that every member of the Committee was present and many others besides.

Captain Elliott was standing with his back to the mantelpiece, facing the gathering: he was dressed in full naval uniform and cut an imposing, soldierly figure, with a sword at his waist. He knew Bahram by sight and they exchanged nods as Bahram took a seat at the back.

The tip of the Captain’s sword now rattled against the fireplace, as if to call the meeting to order. Holding himself stiffly erect, Captain Elliott said: ‘Gentlemen, I have invited you here today so that you may be informed of the outcome of my attempts to negotiate with Commissioner Lin. I addressed a letter to the provincial authorities two days ago, asking that travel permits be issued to all of you. I stated also that if this was not done, I would reluctantly be driven to the conclusion that the men and ships of my country had been forcibly detained and would act accordingly. I noted further that the peace between our two countries has been placed in imminent jeopardy by the alarming proceedings of the authorities in Canton. At the same time I assured them also that it was my desire to keep the peace. My letter was duly transmitted to the High Commissioner. I am now in receipt of his reply.’

This roused a murmur of surprise, for all present were aware that the provincial authorities had long refused to communicate directly with the British Representative. Several people asked whether Commissioner Lin had addressed his letter to Captain Elliott himself, departing from past custom. The Captain shook his head and said that the reply had been communicated to him indirectly, by lesser officials, in a letter that quoted the Commissioner at great length.

‘I thought’, said Captain Elliott, ‘that you should hear at first hand what Commissioner Lin has to say. So I asked my translator, Mr Robert Morrison, to choose a few passages. He has done so and will read them out aloud.’

Yielding the mantel, the Captain went to sit down while the translator rose to face the gathering. He was a stout, sober-looking man in his late twenties: the son of a famous missionary, he had spent most of his life in China and was regarded as an authority on the language and culture of the country.

Now, producing a few sheets of paper, Mr Morrison smoothed them with the back of his hand. ‘Gentlemen, these are Commissioner Lin’s own words; I have tried to render them to the best of my ability.