In the annals of World War II history, few would have expected a British-born Sikh princess from a dethroned royal family to quietly resist Nazi Germany, and live openly with a female partner long before LGBTQ+ rights were acknowledged — let alone accepted.

Yet, that is precisely what Princess Catherine Hilda Duleep Singh did.

The daughter of the last Maharaja of the Sikh Empire, Catherine blazed her own trail and defied social norms. 

The recognition of her legacy is relatively recent. Among those who've brought her acts to the forefront is British biographer Peter Bance, who has spent over two decades researching and writing about the Duleep Singh family, besides piecing together Catherine's extraordinary contributions from scattered records and family documents.

Bance explained to Metro in 2023: "She didn't do these things for self-promotion, so the stories weren't in books or anything. Her stories have survived through the people she saved. Her intervention at that time have seen families across the world thrive."

Royal roots, radical path

Born in 1871 in Suffolk, England, Catherine was raised far from the land her father once ruled.

At age 10, Maharaja Duleep Singh was forced to surrender the Sikh Empire — and the (in)famous Koh-i-Noor diamond — after the British annexed Punjab. In return, he received a pension from the British Crown on the condition he "remain obedient to the British Government."

He later married Bamba Müller, a German-Ethiopian woman, with whom he had six children; Catherine was the fourth. The family lived in exile, but under the patronage of Queen Victoria, who was also Catherine's godmother.

Educated at Somerville College, Oxford, Catherine supported the suffragette cause with her two sisters, campaigning for women's voting rights. But it was her private life — especially her years in Germany — that would come to mark her unconventionality and gumption.

Kassel: A home away from home

Having lost both her parents during her teens, Catherine had developed a close bond with Lina Schäfer, her German governess. In the early 1900s, Catherine left England and moved with Schäfer to the central German city of Kassel. The villa in which they lived together for more than three decades still stands today. Their relationship, though never formally acknowledged, defied social norms of the time and remained steadfast until Lina's death in 1937.

Catherine initially felt at ease there  — among others, the couple enjoyed annual visits to the Bayreuth Festival — but the 1930s saw Germany degenerating into a police state under Hitler. 

"Being brown-skinned and gay in Germany during the rise of Hitler was dangerous for her," according to Peter Bance. "I remember reading some correspondence between her and her accountant. He urged her to leave the country warning she was going to be targeted. She was being watched by the local Nazis, but she refused to leave."

Making humanity her business

As the Nazi regime tightened its grip, Catherine used her resources and influence and helped several Jewish individuals and families escape persecution in Germany and start over in Britain. She wrote letters of recommendation, provided financial support, and personally guaranteed immigration documents that were crucial to survival.

One of the most documented examples involves the Hornstein family. Wilhelm Hornstein, a Jewish lawyer and decorated First World War soldier, was arrested during the November Pogrom of 1938 and imprisoned in a concentration camp. He was later released on condition that he left Germany. Catherine arranged safe passage to England for him, his wife Ilse and their two children.

Catherine hosted them at Colehatch House, her country home in the village of Penn, Buckinghamshire, as well as other Jewish refugees, including a physician named Wilhelm Meyerstein and his partner, Marieluise Wolff, and a violinist named Alexander Polnarioff. She also advocated for those interned as "enemy aliens" — a cruel irony for Jews who had fled the Nazis.

"I think she did her part for humanity. There was a lot of atrocities going on at that time which were going under the radar, and some were there blatantly as well, and people were sort of turning a blind eye. And she could have quite easily turned a blind eye and said, it's not my business, but she made it her business," Bance tells DW.

In 2002, one outcome of her "one-woman rescue mission" resurfaced in a chance encounter.

Bance recalls how, after having published a local article about Catherine, a man named Michael Bowles walked into his office and told him: "My mother and my uncles and my grandparents were saved by Princess Catherine in Germany. And if it wasn't for her, I would not be alive today."

Bowles, it turns out, is the grandson of Ursula, one of the Hornstein children saved by Catherine's intervention.

Resting in power

Catherine died in 1942, aged 71. Neither she nor her siblings had any descendants. In her will, she'd requested that part of her ashes be buried at Lina Schäfer's gravesite in Kassel.

Over the decades, the site fell into disrepair and Bance is now working with Kassel's Main Cemetery to formally mark their shared grave. "I really think it's something Princess Catherine would have liked ... They spent their whole life together. And she loved her so much," he explains.

Their bond, though subtle in its time, resonates today. Bance tells DW that while Catherine never hid her relationship "and her sisters obviously knew about it, but it was very hush hush," since in that era "it was not something they would have sort of flaunted or advertised."

However, as Catherine's valor gets more media mileage, LGBTQ+ communities have been posthumously embracing her as an icon for having fearlessly loved and lived as she willed. And she has since headlined media coverage during diverse Pride Months, including one by the BBC in 2023.

'Princesses of Resistance'

Bance is now working on a new book set to coincide with a Kensington Palace exhibition titled "Princesses of Resistance," set for March 2026 that will focus on Catherine and her sisters Sophia and Bamba.

"It's a very female-oriented exhibition showing the efforts of these Duleep Singh princesses," Bance tells DW, adding that he'll be lending items from his personal archive of nearly 2,000 family artifacts that he's collected over the course of 25 years. 

While details continue to emerge about the Jewish families that Catherine helped, Bance had once described her as an "Indian Schindler,"  in reference to German industrialist Oskar Schindler (1908–1974), who is credited with saving around 1,200 Jewish lives during the Holocaust.

Acknowledging that Catherine's efforts may not meet the scale of the original Schindler's list, Bance nevertheless tells DW: "Saving one life or saving 10 lives, it's still 'saving.' You're saving somebody who's not your color, not your religion, not your ethnic background, but you're doing it based on humanity."

A profile on her alma mater's website sums it up: "A true LGBTQ+ icon, who put herself at risk for the comfort of her aging lover, and the very essence of the Somerville motto: 'Include the excluded.' Catherine did not just include the excluded: she saved them, campaigned for them, fought for them."

Edited by: Elizabeth Grenier