the first one-eighth part of the night, he shall receive secret emissaries; during the second, he shall attend to bathing and supper and study; during the third, he shall enter the bed-chamber amid the sound of trumpets and enjoy sleep during the fourth and fifth parts. Having been awakened by the sound of trumpets during the sixth part, he shall recall to his mind the injunctions of sciences as well as the day’s duties; during the seventh, he shall sit considering administrative measures and send out spies; and during the eighth division of the night, he shall receive benedictions from sacrificial priests, teachers, and the high priest, and having seen his physician, chief cook and astrologer, and having saluted both a cow with its calf and a bull by circumambulating around them, he shall get into his court.
An approachable king was likely to be a popular king. ‘When in the court, he shall never cause his petitioners to wait at the door, for when a king makes himself inaccessible to his people and entrusts work to his immediate officers, he may be sure to engender confusion in business, and to cause public disaffection.’ He should, therefore, ‘personally attend to the business of gods, of heretics, of Brahmans learned in the Vedas, of cattle, of sacred places, of minors, the aged, the afflicted, the helpless, and of women’. Indeed, the Arthasastra is, in many ways, a primer in enlightened monarchy. Domestic affairs were to be conducted with justice and despatch; measures were to be put in place to protect the population from natural disasters and to safeguard the rights and privileges of merchants.
Justice was never to be arbitrary, but it could sometimes be severe. Torture was a legitimate investigative technique, although it was not to be employed against certain classes of people: pregnant women, priests, ‘ignoramuses, youngsters, the aged, the afflicted, persons under intoxication, lunatics, persons suffering from hunger, thirst, or fatigue from journey, persons who have confessed of their own accord, and persons who are very weak – none of these shall be subjected to torture’.
A terrifying variety of punishments awaited everyone else:
blows with a cane: twelve beats on each of the thighs; twenty-eight beats with a stick of the tree; thirty-two beats on each palm of the hands and on each sole of the feet; two on the knuckles, the hands being joined so as to appear like a scorpion…burning one of the joints of a finger after the accused has been made to drink rice gruel; heating his body for a day after he has been made to drink oil; causing him to lie on coarse green grass for a night in winter.
Those adjudged guilty lost all hope of clemency. Anyone who stole a chicken, mongoose, dog or pig could either pay a hefty fine or have the tip of his nose severed. ‘He who castrates a man shall have his generative organ cut off,’ while ‘any person who aims at the kingdom, who forces entrance into the king’s harem, who instigates wild tribes or enemies against the king, or who creates disaffection in forts, country parts, or in the army, shall be burnt alive from head to foot.’
The flinty character of domestic politics extended to the Mauryans’ dealings with other kingdoms. The empire’s fortunes were not determined by the randomness of fate, Kautilya insisted, but by the decisions rulers made. Kautilya offered a simple but elegant analysis of Indian geopolitics. The king ought to regard his immediate neighbour as his enemy, and the neighbour beyond that as his ally, and so on in a system of concentric circles. He should adjust his policy according to his potency and resources; when strong, he should strike, and when weak he should temporize.
At all times, however, he should do everything possible to gather reliable intelligence, both at home and abroad. A motley collection of spies were to be recruited to test 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
