If a reflection might be here interposed on the bloody wars which desolated India in consequence of the events of which the foregoing were the initial scenes, it would be to expose the moral retribution resulting from evil example. Were we to take but a partial view of the picture, we should depict the venerable Shah Jahan, arrived at the verge of the grave, into which the unnatural contest of his sons for empire wished to precipitate him, extending his arms for succour in vain to the nobles of his own faith and kin; while the Rajput, faithful to his principle, ‘allegiance to the throne,’ staked both life and land to help him in his need. Such a picture would enlist all our sympathies on the side of the helpless king. But when we recall the past, and consider that [480] Shah Jahan, as Prince Khurram, played the same part (setting aside the mask of hypocrisy), which Aurangzeb now attempted; that, to forward his guilty design, he murdered his brother Parvez,[10.3.28] who stood between him and the throne of his parent, against whom he levied war, our sympathies are checked, and we conclude that unlimited monarchy is a curse to itself and all who are subjected to it. The battle of Fatehabad followed not long after this event,[10.3.29] which, gained by Aurangzeb, left the road to the throne free from obstruction. We are not informed of the reason why the prince of Bundi did not add his contingent to the force assembled to oppose Aurangzeb under Jaswant Singh of Marwar, unless it be found in that article of the treaty of Rao Surjan, prohibiting his successors from serving under a leader of their own faith and nation. The younger branch of Kotah appears, on its separation from Bundi, to have felt itself exonerated from obedience to this decree; for four royal brothers of Kotah, with many of their clansmen, were stretched on this field in the cause of swamidharma and Shah Jahan. Before, however, Aurangzeb could tear the sceptre from the enfeebled hands of his parent, he had to combat his elder brother Dara, who drew together at Dholpur all those who yet regarded ‘the first duty of a Rajput.’ The Bundi prince, with his Haras clad in their saffron robes, the ensigns of death or victory, formed the vanguard of Dara on this day, the opening scene of his sorrows, which closed but with his life; for Dholpur was as fatal to Dara the Mogul, as Arbela was to the Persian Darius. Custom rendered it indispensable that the princely leaders should be conspicuous to the host, and in conformity thereto Dara, mounted on his elephant, was in the brunt of the battle, in the heat of which, when valour and fidelity might have preserved the sceptre of Shah Jahan, Dara suddenly disappeared. A panic ensued, which was followed by confusion and flight. The noble Hara, on this disastrous event, turned to his vassals, and exclaimed, “Accursed be he who flies! Here, true to my salt, my feet are rooted to this