occasionally served either them or the enemy as fortresses, the Brahman soldiers might have meditated on the strange fate that again brought the votaries of Siva with hostile intent to the sanctuaries of the milder sage.
The siege of Bhartpur was an episode so stirring and splendid in itself that it seems superfluous to inquire as to its historic significance. If the expeditions against Burma were momentous by their consequences, they cannot be said on the balance of triumph and reverse to have been altogether flattering to British pride. But the storming of Bhartpur, had it been merely a chivalrous blunder, would still have counted for much as a factor in that abiding element of strength—the military prestige of our name. It has, however, a distinct place in the evolution of British power throughout India. It was the brilliant conclusion of the series of arduous labours by which English supremacy had been asserted in Northern India—by which the Maratha power had been completely crushed, and by which the last faint hope cherished by the puppet emperor at Delhi, or by Rohilla desperadoes, or Rájput princes, or Ját chiefs, was once for all dispelled. The Pax Britannica was then definitely extended to the Indus, and though a score of years later the lesson of submission had to be enforced at Gwalior, the victory at Bhartpur may be regarded as establishing the undisputed right of the East India Company to maintain peace and order within the limits of Hindustan and the Deccan.
