that assembly on the seventh, ninth, and tenth days; and, what appears almost incredible, on the thirteenth day, when scarcely recovered from a swoon so deep and long that his death was generally reported, he sent for the Rája Jai Singh and two or three of the principal Omrahs, for the purpose of verifying his existence. He then desired the attendants to raise him in the bed; called for paper and ink that he might write to Etbar-Khán, and despatched a messenger for the Great Seal. ... I was present when my Ága became acquainted with all these particulars, and heard him exclaim, "What strength of mind! What invincible courage! Heaven reserve thee, Aurangzíb, for greater achievements! Thou art not yet destined to die[1]."
Bernier's scholarly patron, Danishmand Khán, said no more than the truth. There is something greater than common courage in these actions. Nor was such contempt of danger and pain limited to his younger days. The old Emperor in his last campaigns in the Deccan shared the perils and hardships of the common soldier, and recklessly exposed himself to the enemy's sharpshooters[2].
Aurangzíb was not only brave in face of danger and in battling with bodily weakness: he had an invincible moral courage – the courage of the man who dares to act unflinchingly up to his convictions. He showed this in his dealings with the powerful but, to him, heretical sect of the Persian Shí'ís, who had been the backbone of Akbar's army and still formed the best tacticians on his staff. Akbar had adopted
