Opinion

The Rajput At Versailles

The Maharajah of Bikaner, consummate soldier and Peace Treaty signatory

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The Rajput At Versailles
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Red Sun Peaks Out

Short notes on the Great War

Japan saw the war in imperial terms, and lured by the prospect of new possessions in the Pacific and especially expansion in China, joined the Allies in August 1914. In its one decisive act, Japan attacked and secured the German naval base of Tsingtao in China’s Shantung province in November 1914. It refused to be drawn into the European conflict, but the country’s navy rendered useful province in the Pacific by escorting convoys of Australians and New Zealanders to the Middle East when the Royal Navy was widely extended. They also hel­­ped put down a mutiny of Ind­ian soldiers in Singapore in 1915.

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Visitors to the Imperial War Museum in London cannot miss Sir William Orpen’s iconic picture, The Signing of the Peace. Standing directly behind the heads of the great powers, President Wilson of the United States, Prime Ministers Lloyd George of Great Britain and Clemenceau of France, is the Maharajah of Bikaner. There he is, placed centrestage between two pillars, the majestic maharajah, the light shining on him from the mirror behind, his army uniform and elaborate turban further distinguishing him from the black-suited politicians around. Many people gaze at this picture and wonder who this eye- catching soldier was and why he was at the Palace of Versailles for the signing of a treaty that was to shape the remainder of the 20th cent­ury? It is as a statesman that the Maharajah of Bikaner is best rememb­ered, and his achievement in getting India admitted to the League of Nations when she was certainly not a self-governing nation was considerable, but it was as a soldier that he would have most liked to have left his mark.

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On August 4, 1914, the British empire declared war on Ger­m­any. The young maharajah of this desert kingdom in Raj­asthan saw this as a glorious opportunity to emulate his ancestors, the Bika Rath­ores, of whom 17 out of 21 had led their own troops in warfare. He instantly sent a cable to the king-emperor, George V, that was couched in terms of medieval chivalry: “I have the great honour and privilege of having served Your Imperial Majesty as Aide-de-Camp longer than any other Indian Chief. I implore Your Imperial Majesty most ear­nestly, if the Empire is involved, to give me an opportunity for that personal military service which is the highest amb­ition of a Rathore Rajput Chief....I am ready to go anywhere in any capacity for the privilege of serving my Emperor.... This is the opportunity of a life-time....”

Ganga Singh, 21st Maharajah of Bika­ner, was not the only prince to see himself in this light. The Times of India used similar language in August 1914: “The swords of the martial Princes leapt from their scabbards.” Little did they know what was to come. As a matter of fact, the Indian subcontinent was surprisingly united in “sharing the responsibilities of Empire”, as the young Mohandas Gandhi put it. He and other reformers hoped that by willingly entering the war India would show herself worthy of self-government. More wor­ldly observers, probably inclu­ding Bikaner, predic­ted a German/Ott­oman alliance moving men and material down through the Middle East and up through Afghanistan, thereby threatening the North-West frontier: this happened in 1916.

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The 34-year-old Rajput arrived in north France in October with an app­ointment on the HQ staff of the 7th Indian Division stationed near Bethune; from there he was assigned to the head­q­u­arters staff of Sir John French, Com­mander-in-Chief of the British Exp­editionary Force. He saw no action and was intensely frustrated. His highness was not allowed to risk his life, for in Europe the days when a prince was expected to lead his troops into battle were gone. 

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The Armistice Illustration of the inter-allied conference at Versailles where the treaty was signed after WW-I, 1918

In January 1915, the maharajah had to return home because his daughter was seriously ill. So, on the way back, he sto­p­ped off in Egypt to visit his Camel Corps, engaged in the defence of the Suez Canal against the Turkish army. The Ganga Risala was the only camel corps east of the Suez Canal and it had been engaged in many patrols and skirm­ishes before its proper commander arr­ived. In February 1915, the Turks under Djemal Pasha attacked the Canal itself and, as luck would have it, a large contingent found its way blocked at Katib el Khel by the Camel Corps led by the maharajah himself. A fight ensued and subsequently the Turks withdrew, pursued by camels.

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This was the only action the maharajah took part in and he did not return to the Great War. The Ganga Risala, however, covered itself in glory. The Corps was in Egypt thr­oughout the war, eventually numbering in the field 1,067 troopers, 166 ‘followers’ and 1,254 camels. After its first eng­agement in the Sinai in November 1914, it fought many battles against the Ott­oman empire through to the end of the war and won many honours. Just four days after the First World War ended, the Maharajah of Bikaner was summoned urgently to Lon­don. His immediate task as a representative of India in the Imperial War Cabinet was to join discussions about a peace settlement consequent upon the armistice (truce) with Germany signed on November 11. By this time he had become in his own words “not only a ruler of a great state, but an Indian statesman”. He had conceived the Council of Princes, an important power bloc because the 600 Indian princes between them ruled one third of the land mass of India. Surprising as it may seem today, it had a specific reforming agenda. Bikaner spelt this out in London in April 1917: “Our aspiration is to see our country attaining, under the standard of the King-Emperor, the self- government and autonomy which you in this country secured long ago and which our more fortunate sister Dominions (the so-called White Dominions of Can­ada, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa) have enjoyed for some time past.”

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The maharajah’s considerable diplomatic achievements over the next six months must be judged with this in mind. He had two things going for him. The first: he was a favourite of both King George V and the prime minister. Lloyd George wrote in his War Memoirs: “‘Bikaner’, as he was familiarly and affectionately called—the Indian Prince —was a magnificent specimen of manhood of his great country. We soon found he was one of “the wise men that came from the East”. More and more did we come to rely on his advice, especially on all matters that affected India.”

Lloyd George was well aware of Ganga Singh’s reforming agenda—and he agr­eed with it. “We will never govern India as it ought to be governed until we have given it freedom,” he said. Today that sounds like a complete contradiction. But in 1919, when the Government of India Act bec­ame law (result of the Montagu-Che­lmsford reforms to which Bikaner con­tributed), few apart from the Congress party revolutionaries doubted for a moment what exactly autonomy meant: self-rule within the British emp­ire, though this changed soon. The maharajah would have found abandoning the king-emp­eror a sacrilege.

The second was the contribution of the Indian army to the Allied cause in the First World War. Over one million soldiers served overseas (higher estimates do exist), mostly on the Western Front and in Mesopotamia, and 75,000 lost their lives. Few doubted that this “sacrifice” entitled India to have her say in the peace settlement.

After a forceful argument by Lloyd Geo­rge, it was agreed that the major White Dominions and India should each have two ‘plenipotentiaries’ to represent them at the Peace Conference that began in Paris in January 1919. Initially, the Mah­arajah of Bikaner was named an “Adviser” but after the newly ennobled Lord S.P. Sinha returned to London to steer through the Parliament the India Act, Ganga Singh and the secretary of state for India, Lord Montagu, became the two plenipotentiaries. They would both sign the eventual Treaty of Ver­sa­illes. This was an honour, of course, and conferred a high status, but in truth the role of plenipotentiary did not involve much else. The real power lay with the Council of Three, President Wilson of the US, Prime Minister Clemenceau of France and Prime Minister Lloyd George of Great Britain.  They met informally and in secret, heard opinions, made decisions and delegated them to commissions for ratification and wording.

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The exception to this was the founding of the League of Nations. Long before the end of the First World War, statesmen had pondered the setting up of an assembly of the world’s nations to try to make war impossible in the future, and this was the first major task to be undertaken in Paris. For the plenipotentiaries representing the British empire, this offered a huge prize to be won, not for the empire but for their own individual countries. Assuming the League was to endure, independent membership with the right to vote against Great Britain would be the strongest proof of self-government. This was not lost on the maharajah, but how could India possibly join when Article 7 of the draft covenant clearly stated “admission to the League shall be limited to fully self-governing countries including dominions and colonies”? Ganga Singh pulled out all the stops. In a formal declaration, he invoked India’s ancient civilisation, its membership of one-fifth of the human race, its huge sacrifices for freedom in the war, its “special representation at the Council table of the Peace Conference” (i.e. plenipotentiary status). He ended forcefully: “It is inconceivable that India should now be told to walk out as no longer belonging to the civilised nations of the world”. 

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This was too much for President Wil­son particularly. When Bikaner secured an audience with the Supreme Council and repeated his peroration, together with some maharajah charm, he won the argument. Lord Montagu was jubilant, writing to Viceroy Chelmsford: “He has covered himself in glory, gained the point, even bearding and obtaining the necessary answer from the great President Wilson himself! There will be no holding him when he gets back to India. He appears to have finished his triumph by inviting Clemenceau to go and shoot tigers with him!”

The final act of the Peace Conference was staged in the Hall of Mirrors at Ver­s­ailles on June 28, 1919. The German del­egates, pale and cowed, were forced to sign the Treaty. The Allied leaders and plenipotentiaries then signed, Bikaner just before Clemenceau, a small but con­spicuous fact. His biographer des­cr­i­bed the moment: “Tall, handsome, with thick dark moustache, glowing with pride over his youthful appearance, the Maharajah of Bikaner, who was wearing traditional dress, appeared splendid and regal as he put his signature to the Treaty.”

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The Maharajah lost no time in returning to India. He cabled: “Peace signed today with Germany. Starting for Mar­se­illes. Sailing tomorrow.” On the voyage home, he dictated his conclusion: “It was thus the first time in Indian history that the signature of an Indian Prince appe­ared on a document the most fateful in the history of the world.” It was no less than the truth. On the outbreak of the ww-ii in 1939, Ganga Singh, now a full general in the British Indian army, off­­ered to fight. When told that age stood in his way he replied: “No Rajput is too old to fight at the age of 60.” In 1941, he and his grandson, Karni Singh, went on active service to the Middle East. He returned within a year suffering from terminal cancer and died in February 1943, aged 62. He was a sta­tesman and ruler, but soldier to the last.

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BBC TV presenter, historian and writer, Hugh Purcell is the author of Maharajah of Bikaner, India: The Makers of the Modern World, among other books

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