History resides in facts. But facts in themselves are not history. Proverbially speaking, they are tools of the workman, the historian, to put some sense in them. The legendary Michael Oakeshott had said “history is ‘made’ by nobody save the historian”. However, the book The Carnatic Wars departs from this view of history, and many others, and veers, knowingly or otherwise, to the position of German historian Leopold von Ranke on the past: Telling it exactly how it was. In doing so, the book faces a formidable test.

 Over the past four and a half decades, the study of 18 th century India, particularly its economy and society, has gained immense prominence. Before that too, it was studied more from the angle of the rise of British power in India and the conflicts it had with regional forces such as Mysore in the south and the Marathas in the west. Its encounter with the Sikhs was a 19 th century phenomenon.

 The book is helpful to the readers in giving a bibliography that introduces them to the works that relate very specifically to its subject. It goes further than that. 

Right at the beginning, it has a “Timeline of Events”, which does immense service to the reader in not losing the thread of the main incidents covered in the book. This is supplemented by a “Cast of Characters”, which, though somewhat incomplete, saves them the tedium of turning back the pages to refresh a faltering memory. One wishes there were something similar with the names of places and rivers frequently referred to.

 Turning to the core contents, the first chapter deals with the end of the Vijayanagar empire, which is appropriate. One would be right in expecting some detail of the breakup of the Bahmani kingdom into five entities, one of which was Golkonda, which is the epicentre of all events — or should one say “disturbances” — in this book. This chapter provided the best reading.

 The next chapter too is a delight because of the way in which it gives the perspective of “Carnatic”. It rightly states that the British aspired to have an Indian empire towards the end of the 17th  century itself, but could not do much because the Mughal empire was strong then. Only the chapter heading, “Wither ‘Carnatic’?” leaves the reader a bit flummoxed. Should it not have been “Whither ‘Carnatic’?”

 The tone set in this chapter continues into the next one, in which it situates Arcot, the town and the province, in the larger political context that would be the defining element of the region’s history in the subsequent few decades. It is here that the author digresses —in the sense that he, apart from being a historian, also wears the mantle of a chronicler.

 From here onwards, there are mainly four actors on the stage. First comes the Nizam, Asaf Jah Nizam-ul Mulk, a formidable warrior in the view of Jadunath Sarkar. Next is the Nawab (or nawabs) of Arcot, along with some others around the nawabi. And of course there were the two European trading companies — the English and the French. The Dutch and the Portuguese too contributed their mite, and the marauding Marathas under Raghu Bhonsle, and some others, were a constant threat to some and sometimes a bullying ally to others. And there were powers within powers, such as Chanda Saheb, whose death, one does not hesitate to say, was a comeuppance. With all the ups and downs in their fortunes, the French in the beginning seemed to be a superior power, though there was constantly a leadership question. Missing here is the “how” or the “why” of history. La Bourdonnais was doing well as a soldier on the French side. Why did he have to return to France and why was he clapped into the Bastille? All due to governor-general of French India Joseph François Dupleix’s intrigues against him? It could also be because of the agreement he had signed with Nicholas Morse, the English boss. For that he “seems to have been treated warmly” in England, where he landed in December 1747 before going home. But how did that happen? Because of the agreement with Morse, the news of which reached London by December? Given the time it took to reach Europe from South India, it was just about possible.

 The author has been faithful to the title of the book. It is a book about battles and wars rather than military history. But then, with apologies to English philosopher Michael Oakeshott, history is not made by the historian but by the participants in the happenings. Maybe military history in this period in south India, with constant shifts and turns, and with very unstable alliances compounded by human greed and treachery, strategy and tactics evolved more on the battlefield itself and not behind closed doors at Fort St. George or in Puducherry. Diplomacy too had a role there. Along with the wars that were born of long-term factors, there were accidental conflicts that could have had portentous consequences, such as the one that nearly cost Robert Clive his life. 

Still questions remain. How did Clive, a writer who came to work for the East India Company, mature into a soldier whose name every schoolchild in India knows till this day? When he marched towards Arcot in 1751, he commanded eight soldiers, six of whom were civilians! Next, how did Dupleix, who was not a soldier, maintain his leadership of the French side for as many as 12 years when competent fighters such as Major Louis Paradis (?) were falling prey to internecine warfare among the soldiery?

 Interesting bits of information emerge all across the pages of this work. It is not commonly known that

Clive was chief victualler and steward for the English and a supplier of provisions as well. A clever man he was, and he demonstrated his cleverness in later years. But there are a few regrets about this useful work. It could have been less detailed. When the author is citing more than one version to explain events, which are mostly wars, there is little the readers can do to further their understanding of things. In the case of social or economic history, they can stretch their mind but not when the subject is what this book is about.

 Too much attention to detail may have created some confusion in the mind of the author as well. On page 62, he writes: “The French preparations to attack  Pondicherry were mired in …” Is it Pondicherry? On page 8, the book says: 

“For the purpose of … he also added …” The reader is forced to guess that the person being referred to here is Aurangzeb. Again on page 8, it is stated that “Karnatak” was one of the “wealthiest provinces of the Mughal empire”. Yet on page 3, where the author gives the names of the six provinces into which the entire Mughal Deccan was divided, there is no mention of “Karnatak”. On page 175, the author writes Charles Joseph Pattissier was born in 1920. Evidently, the publisher underestimated its role in the making of this book.  

 The book’s greatest contribution is that it gives an idea of what led to the Maratha rout at the third Battle of Panipat. Finally, it leaves enough scope to understand how these events in Carnatic evolved into tumultuous occurrences of the next 100 years.

Nota bene: Why has the author been introduced at the end?

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The Carnatic Wars: Great Power Rivalries in 18th-century India

By Venkatesh Parthasarathy

Harper Collins

Pages: 461, Price: ₹799

 The next book that Blueprint will feature: Battles of the Indian Republic — a five-part series