point south of Trichinopoly, and the marginal possessions of the Portuguese and other foreign nations. Military occupation, however, was not enough; he would make the southern provinces an integral part of his settled Empire, as finally and organically a member of it as the Punjab or Bengal. With this aim he stayed on and on, till a hope and will unquenchable in life were stilled in death. The exasperating struggle lasted seventeen years after the execution of Sambhájí and the capture of his chief stronghold: and at the end success was as far off as ever. 'But it was the will of God that the stock of this turbulent family should not be rooted out of the Deccan, and that King Aurangzíb should spend the rest of his life in the work of repressing them.'
The explanation of this colossal failure is to be found partly in the contrast between the characters of the invaders and the defenders. Had the Mughals been the same hardy warriors that Bábar led from the valleys of the Hindú Kúsh, or had the Rájputs been the loyal protagonists that had so often courted destruction in their devoted service of earlier emperors, the Maráthás would have been allowed but a short shrift. But Aurangzíb had alienated the Rájputs for ever, and they could not be trusted to risk their lives for him in the questionable work of exterminating a people who were Hindús, however inferior in caste and dignity. As for the Mughals, three or four generations of court-life had ruined their ancient manliness. Bábar would have scorned to command such officers
