The Mountbattens

by Andrew Lownie

  The Indian Independence Bill created two separate Cabinets and administrations for the two countries. All the government posts, including the police, army, judiciary, postal system and civil service, would have to be split between the two countries and their assets divided – but for Pakistan it was the greater challenge, as everything had to be created from scratch. There were almost a million people working on Indian railways, with over 150,000 who wanted to transfer between the countries. There was no way this could be done in the time available.

  Apart from dividing human resources, there was all the equipment that had to be split, down to who received the last trombone in the Lahore police band. The cash balances and public debt had to be apportioned, with the relative contributions and responsibilities between the two countries much disputed. Banking had always been the preserve of non-Muslims, principally because the lending of money for profit is forbidden under Islamic law. It was agreed the Reserve Bank of India would handle Pakistan’s financial affairs until October 1948 and the existing Indian currency would remain in use in both countries until March 1948 – but by December 1947 the system had broken down as a result of a series of disputes.

  The Andaman Islands in the Bay of Bengal were used as a penal colony. Congress felt that they belonged to India, the Muslim League wanted them as a refuelling point between East and West Pakistan, whilst British service chiefs argued for them remaining a Commonwealth naval base. And what would happen to assets overseas, such as India House and the treasures of the India Office?

  Shahid Hamid, like many, could see the problems of this speeded-up transfer:

  The pace is unrealistic. I think he is prepared to accept bloodshed and human miseries. Everyone can see the tragedy looming. Strangely enough, Mountbatten does not see it. Maybe he could not care less. One has a feeling that he wants to please his bosses in the United Kingdom and get out before a greater mess is created. Then he can blame all the politicians for the disaster . . . Mountbatten is impetuous and a hustler and gives decisions on the spot. He possesses incurable optimism and is over-sensitive to criticism which hurts his vanity. That is his weakest point. He is not prepared to listen . . . Jenkins, the Governor of Punjab, has sent hair-raising reports of the disorders which may follow. Mountbatten is paying no attention to them.438

  Amongst those also telling him that the transfer could not be achieved in that time were Nehru, Congress politicians, and Mountbatten’s own staff, such as Eric Miéville, Pug Ismay and Claude Auchinleck. The Viceroy ignored them. Could there have been a more personal reason for his rush? Marital relations with Edwina by June were even more strained than ever. She was anxious to leave India and ever more critical of her husband. ‘Perhaps, if he could carry out the transfer of power swiftly and efficiently enough,’ Alex von Tunzelmann has suggested, ‘he might still save his marriage.’439

  One of the biggest headaches was splitting the Indian Army. Clearly, each country had to have its own army, but to divide it in such a short time would be almost impossible – the Commander-in-Chief, Claude Auchinleck, thought it would take three years – and it did mean that, should there be communal violence, there was no independent body to maintain law and order. Ismay was concerned that ‘these magnificent units were to be mutilated’ and argued:

  Why not divide the Army on numerical lines in the first instance, India getting two-thirds and Pakistan one third? Later on, when things were more settled it might be found more expedient to transfer the Hindu element in the Pakistan Army to India and vice versa . . . Jinnah was adamant. He said he would refuse to take over power on 15 August unless he had an army of appropriate strength and predominantly Muslim composition under his control.440

  The Joint Defence Committee to monitor the division of the armed forces was therefore set up on 30 June under Sir Chandulal Trivedi, a former secretary of the War Department and a Hindu, but also a close friend of Liaquat Ali Khan of the Muslim League, so it had Muslim support. The decision was made to split along religious lines, but that ignored personal wishes. There were, for example, many non-Muslims who considered provinces allocated to Pakistan to be home. Many could not decide or succumbed under communal pressure. And then there was the question of British troops, many of whom could not wait to be demobbed.

  ‘My own view is that we should withdraw them immediately the transfer of power,’ wrote Mountbatten in June to Archie Nye, Governor of Madras:

  There is no reason to anticipate a movement specially directed against the British after the transfer of power and a handful of British troops would be no special security against sporadic disturbance in difficult parts of the country due, perhaps, to a general weakening of the administration.441

  Edwina’s role was to ensure that all the medical and social welfare organisations were prepared once the British had left. Throughout June and July, she brought various groups together, ensuring that facilities were ready, finances sorted and priorities identified. There was an appeal for nurses and midwives and a campaign to recruit over 14,000 health visitors to deal with tuberculosis. A major achievement was ensuring, through an appeal to Nehru, that the Nursing Council Bill, which regulated nursing care and gave nurses an honours degree from the College of Nursing (and had been stuck in the Legislature since 1943), was passed.

  On 18 July, Dickie and Edwina celebrated their silver wedding anniversary, where they were presented with an inscribed silver salver by their staff. Ninety-five people came to dinner, including Nehru, Jinnah, the Cabinet and various Princes, and there was Indian music and dances. The strains of the heavy workload and Edwina’s menopause, however, meant the marriage remained strained.

  Another concern for Mountbatten was the future of the 565 Princely States. They covered some two-fifths of the subcontinent, made up a quarter of the population and were the direct responsibility of the British Crown, rather than the Government in Delhi. The citizens were not British subjects like other Indians, but ‘British protected persons’. In return for acknowledging British ‘paramountcy’ through individual treaties, their defence, foreign policy and communications were the responsibility of the British.

  Within their own borders, the Princes wielded absolute power over the lives of their subjects, making and enforcing their own civil and criminal laws, directing their own administration, levying their own taxes and customs, frequently minting their own currency and issuing their own stamps, but they varied enormously in wealth, size and importance. Many had preferred to spend their riches on women, horses, cars and gambling, rather than their states, with the result that many Princely States remained like medieval kingdoms, whilst others, like Mysore, were progressive and efficient.

  The Princes had destroyed the central government provision of the 1935 Act by refusing to enter a federation and they remained a problem, one which Mountbatten had ignored until the date of transfer had been fixed. The Cabinet Mission Plan, arguing that British obligations lapsed at independence, had simply left them to strike their own arrangements with any successor governments or governments. Now with an Independence date set, some of the states declared that they would opt for individual independence, which would destroy the administrative infrastructure.

  On 25 July, the Chamber of Princes assembled in Delhi –some 25 rulers and 74 representatives of the lesser states. Dickie, resplendent in full uniform with all his decorations, in a meeting capped at two hours, worked all his charms to bring them on board. When one representative claimed not to have received instructions on what to do, Mountbatten theatrically picked up a glass paperweight, looked into it and after a dramatic silence announced that the Maharajah had asked him to sign the Instrument of Accession. Three days later, Mountbatten gave a party for the Princes. Those who had not signed an instrument of accession were very publicly taken aside for a ‘friendly’ chat with the Viceroy.

  Though the option of becoming independent was offered, the Princes were encouraged, through a mixture of charm, bribes of ambassadorships and threats, for the sake of an i
ntegrated India and Pakistan, to join either India or Pakistan, whilst the continent remained under British rule. An extra sweetener was that the two countries would be part of the Commonwealth, that the Princes could retain their privileges, properties and privy purses and that the new central governments would only control the functions previously exercised by the British – defence, external relations and communications.442 The Princes had little choice, knowing that the new countries would otherwise simply seize their assets.

  Privately, Mountbatten, though he was happy to take advantage of their hospitality, thought the Princes were anachronisms, referring to them as a ‘bunch of nitwits’. He knew that the guarantees of local self-government and privileges offered by India and Pakistan would not be honoured for long – as they were not – but his job was to deliver ‘a full basket of apples’ to the two new countries before independence and that is largely what he did.

  It left a residual bitterness with many. The Maharawal of Dungarpur told his political agent, Charles Chenevix Trench, that:

  By making them sign the Instrument of Accession, the Viceroy perpetrated the rape of the States. Had the Princes been left alone, Congress could never have got them to sign away their powers and heritage within a fortnight. No, never. Being a member of the Royal Family, many Princes took Mountbatten as a friend. Nothing could be further from the truth . . . the Princes expected justice and fair play, not lies and half-truths to beguile them into a snare.443

  Two states, however, presented particular problems. The largest, Hyderabad – it was the size of France and had a population of 16 million – was predominantly Hindu and entirely surrounded by India, but ruled by a Muslim heavily influenced by a fanatical movement. In Kashmir, almost completely bordered by Pakistan, a Hindu dynasty ruled a mainly Muslim state. A further complication was that Nehru’s family came from Kashmir and he had a strong emotional attachment to the state.

  Dickie flew to have talks with the Maharajah Hari Singh, who found any number of displacement activities – from all-day fishing trips, where Mountbatten shocked staff by sunbathing in the nude, to bear hunts and visits to exhibitions of carpet-making and papier-mâché work – to avoid addressing the problem. In neither state had a decision been made when independence came, but Mountbatten’s achievement was to have corralled all the others into making a choice by 15 August.

  Dickie had expected to be Governor-General of both Dominions after Independence, to ensure a smooth transition and impartiality in overseeing the division of assets, but he had not counted on Jinnah’s unpredictability, nor his distrust of the Viceroy – he thought him ‘flash and second-rate’.444 Rather than take the perceived more powerful position of Prime Minister at the beginning of July, Jinnah insisted on becoming Governor-General himself. It placed Mountbatten in a difficult position and further increased suspicion of him taking sides. He unsuccessfully lobbied Jinnah through the Nawab of Bhopal, the leading Muslim prince, and dithered on whether he should then solely accept the Indian role.

  It had been a betrayal, a challenge to his authority and his reputation, and for several days Mountbatten threatened to resign. Ismay and Campbell-Johnson were sent to canvass opinion in London. Only personal messages from the King, Attlee and Churchill persuaded Mountbatten to stay, but ‘From this stage on,’ the Pakistan writer and politician Muhammad Ali remembered, ‘there was a noticeable change in Mountbatten’s attitude toward the problems of partition and toward Pakistan. Mountbatten had barely tolerated Jinnah in the past; now there was active hostility.’445

  Mountbatten wrote to his eldest daughter despondently:

  I’ve made a mess of things through over-confidence and over-tiredness. I’m just whacked and worn out and would really like to go. I’m so depressed darling, because until this stupid mishandling of the Jinnah situation I’d done so well. It has certainly taken me down many pegs.446

  On 9 July, Edwina noted in her diary:

  Overwhelming opinion however that we should stay . . . Also to take on Chairmanship of Joint Defence Council. Decided therefore no alternative. Many misgivings. Morally, logically as well as personally feel it’s wrong but that D has been faced with such a position that he cannot refuse.447

  On 8 July, the barrister Cyril Radcliffe arrived to act as chairman of a Boundary Commission to define the 3,800 miles of borders of the Punjab and Bengal. Mountbatten had known Radcliffe during the war when, as Director General of the Ministry of Information, he had been responsible for running government censorship and propaganda. A stocky, fastidious man, known at Haileybury as Squit Radcliffe, he had taken a first at Oxford and was a fellow of All Souls. The fact he had never been to India was regarded as a strength rather than a weakness.448

  Radcliffe had been given an impossible task, given his lack of knowledge, the limited timescale, and the scant resources at his disposal – he was working with a census that was six years out of date – and the fact that his Hindu and Muslim colleagues on the Commission divided on sectarian lines, requiring him to make decisions alone. Amongst the factors he had to take into account were river courses and irrigation systems, balancing assets between the two countries, ethnic population divisions, natural boundaries, the integrity of forests and communication networks – all in just over a month.449

  When Radcliffe recommended that disruption to Punjab’s intricate canal system could be minimised by India and Pakistan jointly operating the head works, Jinnah replied that, ‘he would rather have Pakistan deserts than fertile fields watered by the courtesy of the Hindus,’ while Nehru ‘curtly informed (Radcliffe) that what India did with India’s rivers was India’s affair.’450 It was an indication of what was to come.

  By 9 August, Radcliffe was ready to announce his deliberations. This presented Mountbatten with a dilemma. Knowing that the boundary decisions would be unpopular in some quarters, did he make them public immediately and overshadow the Independence celebrations, or did he kick the ball down the road, so it became the problem of the newly independent countries rather than the British?

  ‘It is said that he is terrified to announce it before the Independence celebrations as disturbances may ensue on a large scale which would be his responsibility and that of His Majesty’s Government to handle and control,’ Hamid wrote in his diary on 9 August. ‘This he is not prepared to face.’451

  Sir George Abell argued for immediate release, so troops could be moved to the affected areas, but Mountbatten ignored his advice, possibly wanting to savour the day without recriminations, and chose to wait until Independence to announce the arbitration. It was a decision that was to have disastrous consequences.

  The pressures of impending independence were beginning to take their toll on the Mountbatten marriage. ‘. . . the last two days have been pretty good Hell,’ Ismay wrote to his wife at the beginning of August. ‘Both Dickie and Edwina are dead tired, nervy as they can be and right across each other. So that in addition to my other troubles, I have been doing peacemaker and general sedative . . . it’s very wearing for them, and for me.’452

  In the past, the two had been able to manage separate lives. Now they lived and worked together. Naturally competitive, Edwina was jealous of her husband’s new priorities, suffered from the heat and felt unsettled. These domestic tensions only added to the pressures Mountbatten faced.

  On 13 August, the couple flew to Karachi for the Pakistan Independence celebrations. All did not go well. At dinner, Jinnah and Mountbatten argued over Mountbatten’s decision not to arrest the Sikh leader Tara Singh – the Viceroy felt it would only further inflame the situation and in any case it was difficult to access the holy courtyards of the gurudwaras where he hid – and the delay in announcing the boundaries, which Jinnah argued only increased the possibility of violence. Jinnah made a short speech. Mountbatten, according to Hamid who was present, ‘indulged in a long oration which was not in keeping with such an occasion,’ then discussed why he had brought forward the transfer of power:

  He drew a childish
smile by saying that the best way to teach a youngster to cycle was to take him on top of a hill, put him on the seat and then push him down the hill. By the time he arrived on the flat ground below he would have learnt to cycle. Thereupon somebody whispered that there was also the danger that he might break his neck!453

  A plot by the RSS (Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh) had been uncovered to throw a bomb into Jinnah’s car during the three-mile state procession the next day, so Mountbatten had volunteered to ride with him. Sitting side by side in an open Rolls-Royce, Jinnah and Mountbatten braced themselves for the attack. As the procession ended without incident, Jinnah allowed himself to place his hand on Mountbatten’s knee and congratulate him on bringing the Viceroy home safely.454

  Back in Delhi, the Mountbattens dined alone and then spent their final hours in office watching Bob Hope in My Favourite Brunette. One of the Viceroy’s final acts was to make the wife of the Nawab of Palamour a Highness, which the Colonial Office had refused, in spite of her popularity, because she was Australian.

  Just before midnight, Nehru addressed the Constituent Assembly:

  Long years ago we made a tryst with Destiny and now the time comes when we shall redeem our pledge, not wholly or fully, but very substantially. At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom.

  As midnight struck on 15 August, Nehru with Rajendra Prasad, President of the Constituent Assembly, arrived at Viceroy’s House to formally invite Mountbatten to be India’s first Governor-General and give him an envelope with the names of Ministers to be sworn in later that morning. When opened, it was empty. Such had been the excitement, they had forgotten to put anything inside.