The Ambassadors: From Ancient Greece to the Nation State. Jonathan Wright

the loyalty of his ministers and to infiltrate subversive factions within society. The state should ‘employ spies disguised as persons endowed with supernatural power, persons engaged in penance, ascetics, bards, buffoons, mystics, astrologers, prophets foretelling the future…physicians, lunatics, the dumb, the deaf, idiots, the blind, traders, painters, carpenters, musicians, dancers, vintners, and manufacturers of cakes, flesh and cooked rice, and send them abroad into the country for espionage’. Agents should also be posted abroad to reconnoitre and sow discord. Astrologers might be despatched to convince dissidents that it was an especially auspicious time to mount a coup. Prostitutes could be sent to seduce rival generals and foment animosity between them.

      Ambassadors also had a vital role to play. An envoy’s first duty was to ‘make friendship with the enemy’s officers such as those in charge of wild tracts, of boundaries, of cities, and of country parts. He shall also contrast the military stations, sinews of war, and strongholds of the enemy with those of his own master. He shall ascertain the size and area of forts and of the state, as well as strongholds of precious things and assailable and unassailable points.’ The ambassador’s reception was an excellent way of gauging the intentions of a rival monarch. Promising signs included respectful treatment, being given a seat close to the throne, and enquiries after the health of the emperor: ‘all these shall be noted as indicating the good graces of the enemy and the reverse his displeasure.’

      Whatever welcome the ambassador received, he was not to be cowed by the ‘mightiness of the enemy’ and he should ‘strictly avoid women and liquor…for it is well-known that the intentions of envoys are ascertained while they are asleep or under the influence of alcohol’. During his mission he should establish his own network of spies ‘to ascertain the nature of the intrigue prevalent among parties favourably disposed to his own master, as well as the conspiracy of hostile factions’. If this proved impossible he could ‘try to gather such information by observing the talk of beggars, intoxicated and insane persons, or of persons babbling in sleep’. The precise objective of a mission would vary according to circumstances, but likely duties included ‘the maintenance of treaties, the issue of ultimatums, gaining of friends, intrigue, sowing dissension among friends, carrying away by stealth relatives and gems, [and] gathering information about the movements of spies’.

      Of course, Kautilya realized that other potentates were always likely to send their own devious ambassadors, so it was important to remain vigilant. There were constant dangers associated with being a Mauryan emperor, and the risk of assassination was taken especially seriously, as Chandragupta’s wife could attest, with poisoning the regicide’s preferred method. The alarm was to be raised whenever

      the vapour arising from cooked rice possesses the colour of the neck of a peacock, and appears chill as if suddenly cooled; when vegetables possess an unnatural colour, and are watery and hardened, and appear to have suddenly turned dry…when utensils reflect light either more or less than usual, and are covered with a layer of foam at their edges; when any liquid preparation possesses streaks on its surface; when milk bears a bluish streak in the centre of its surface; when liquor and water possess reddish streaks; when curd is marked with black and dark streaks, and honey with white streaks; when watery things appear parched as if overcooked and look blue and swollen; when dry things have shrunk and changed in their colour; when hard things appear soft, and soft things hard…when carpets and curtains possess blackish circular spots, with their threads and hair fallen off; when metallic vessels set with gems appear tarnished as though by roasting, and have lost their polish, colour, shine, and softness of touch.

      Poisoners were also apt to give themselves away, and the king’s attendants should always be suspicious of ‘hesitation in speaking, heavy perspiration, yawning, too much bodily tremor, frequent tumbling, evasion of speech [and] carelessness in work’. Whenever the king was presented with ‘water, scents, fragrant powders, dress and garlands’, servants ‘shall first touch these things by their eyes, arms and breast’.

      It was a fitting response to a cynical political milieu. The Mauryans knew of every potential danger because of an unflinching willingness to employ dubious strategies of their own. Just as ambassadors were expected to spy and to agitate, so agents were sometimes sent to kill off troublesome rivals. Pacts and pledges could be negotiated, but it was also entirely legitimate to break them. A trusted policy in the ancient world was for powers to exchange hostages – often including a ruler’s relatives – when they made treaties; this provided some guarantee that the parties would abide by the terms of an agreement. Kautilya recognized the usefulness of such arrangements, but saw not the slightest reason to honour them. If a prince had been offered up as a hostage, that prince should do everything in his power to engineer his escape.

      Carpenters, artisans, and other spies, attending upon the prince (kept as a hostage) may take him away at night through an underground tunnel dug for the purpose. Dancers, actors, singers, players on musical instruments, buffoons, court-bards [and] swimmers previously set about the enemy [as spies], may continue under his service and may indirectly serve the prince. They should have the privilege of entering and going out of the palace at any time. The prince may therefore get out at night disguised as any one of the above spies…Or the prince may be removed concealed under clothes, commodities, vessels, beds, seats and other articles by cooks, confectioners, servants employed to serve the king while bathing, servants employed for carrying conveyances, for spreading the bed, toilet-making, dressing, and procuring water.

      It might be necessary to serve sentinels with poisoned food, or to bribe them, or to create a diversion by setting ‘fire to a building filled with valuable articles’. The prince would disguise himself as a shaven-headed ascetic, a diseased man or even a corpse. The strategies enumerated by Kautilya were seemingly endless.⁸

      Chandragupta and Asoka, grandfather and grandson, inhabited opposite ends of the same philosophical spectrum. Together, they offer a telling lesson in just how drastically, and rapidly, worldviews might change. Diplomacy was always the bellwether of a society’s attitude towards the rest of humanity. Asoka’s optimism and generosity, his policy of conquest through righteousness, were exceptional; in the words of H. G. Wells, among the monarchs that crowd the columns of history, Asoka shines almost alone. The encounters between cultures would more often be clouded by fear and suspicion.

      Greeks were tolerated in the ancient city of Alexandria but, as Herodotus explained, ‘no Egyptian man or woman will kiss a Greek or use a Greek knife, spit or cauldron, or even eat the flesh of a bull known to be clean if it has been cut with a Greek knife.’⁹ Muscovite princes would accept the need for relationships with other nations but, well into the seventeenth century, they often refused to shake the hand of a foreigner for fear of infection. During the sixteenth century, Venetians would sell their wares in Ottoman Istanbul, and the Portuguese would trade in Macao, but the communities they traded with would be mistrusted and ghettoized.

      Indeed, mention of the Portuguese in Macao brings us to China, the final destination in this survey of the ancient world, and a culture that has agonized more than any other over its dealings with the outside world. One of the duties of history is to puncture lazy orthodoxies, and the travels of one early ambassador do much to confound the notion of unwavering Chinese insularity and xenophobia. Before recounting his tale, however, it would be useful to ponder why that notion is so stubbornly embedded in the Western psyche. To that end, before we visit the Han dynasty of ancient China, a brief detour of twenty-one centuries is called for.

       CHAPTER IV The Son of Heaven

       i. The Boxers

      From now on, when barbarians come to the capital to present tribute, the military population and common people who dare to congregate in the streets to stare and make fun of them, or throw broken tiles and thus injure any of the barbarians, shall be punished with the cangue as a warning to the public.

      Hui-t’ung-kuan Regulations, 1500¹