History of the War in Afghanistan, Vol. 3 (of 3) / Third Edition

by Sir John William Kaye

The Council met again on the following day. There was much and earnest discussion; but it was painfully obvious that the majority were in favour of capitulation, and that at the head of the majority were the military and political chiefs. The proposed terms were again brought under review, and again George Broadfoot lifted up his voice against them. He was told by his opponents in the Council that the warmth of his feelings had obscured his judgment; but, resolute not to weaken his advocacy of so great a cause by any frailty of his own, he had submitted his views to writing, and had invited the sober criticism of his calmer friend Henry Havelock.[37] With this paper in his hand, holding his eager temperament in restraint, he now did resolute battle against the proposal for surrender. First, he took the votes of the Council on the general question of the propriety of any negociation; and then, one by one, he combated the separate terms of the proposed treaty of surrender. But, two only excepted, his comrades were all against him. Backhouse, a man of fiery courage and of plain discourse, though recognising the force of much of Macgregor’s reasoning, voted against withdrawal. Oldfield said little, but that little, with his vote, was against capitulation. Havelock, who attended only as the General’s staff, was without a vote; but his heart was with those who voted for the manlier and the nobler course.

The chief spokesmen were, George Macgregor on the one side, and George Broadfoot on the other. The former, enunciating the views of his military chief, contended that the Jellalabad garrison had been abandoned by the Government; that after Wild’s failure, no movement for their release was likely to be made; that there was no possibility that their little force could hold its own much longer, and that it could not retreat except under terms with the victorious enemy. He believed that the terms, of which he had spoken, would be strictly observed. Macnaghten and Pottinger had failed to take hostages from the Afghans, and therefore our army had been destroyed; but hostages being given, it was urged, the treaty would never be violated, and on the arrival of the force at Peshawur, our prisoners would be surrendered. Moreover, as Macgregor had contended from the first, the British troops held Jellalabad, and every other post in the Afghan dominions, only on behalf of Shah Soojah; and if the Shah directed our withdrawal, we had no right, it was said, to remain, especially when our own Government apparently desired the speedy evacuation of the country.

But this Broadfoot denied. He denied that the British troops held Jellalabad only on behalf of Shah Soojah; he denied that the British Government—under whose orders alone, he contended, the force could with propriety be withdrawn from Jellalabad—had directed, or were likely to direct, the immediate evacuation of Afghanistan. He denied that the brigade could not hold out in Jellalabad; he denied that it could not make good its retreat to Peshawur. He declared that hostages had been given before, at Tezeen—that still our camp had been attacked;[38] and that, so long as the enemy held our hostages and prisoners in their hands, there was really little additional security in such a resource. Sale said that he would execute an Afghan hostage if the terms of the treaty were violated. “Would you do this,” asked Broadfoot, “if the enemy threatened to kill, before our faces, two English ladies for every man that we put to death?” It was urged, by another officer, that if the British troops did not evacuate Jellalabad, our hostages at Caubul would be murdered. “Then,” contended Broadfoot, “in such a warfare, the most barbarous must be most successful. Whoever is prepared to execute his hostages and prisoners must gain his object, and triumph by the mere force of his barbarity.”

And thus, point after point, Broadfoot combated the arguments of those who supported the policy of capitulation; and at last took his stand boldly upon “first principles.” When it was said that a body of troops, thus abandoned by Government, were entitled to look to their own safety, he replied, that they had a right to save the troops only when, by so doing, they would confer a greater benefit on the state than by risking their loss. And when mention was made of the views of the Governor-General, the chief officer of the state, he declared that there was a higher duty still which they were bound to discharge. If, as had been contended, the Government of India had abandoned them, the covenant between them was cancelled by the failure of the higher authority. But they had a duty to perform towards their country—a duty which they could never decline. And it was plainly their duty, in the conjuncture which had arisen, to uphold the honour of the nation. In these views Havelock openly concurred; though, for reasons already stated, he took little part in the debates.

The terms of the proposed capitulation were carried, with but one exception. It was determined that hostages should not be given. Macgregor volunteered himself to be one; and both he and Sale contended vehemently in support of the proposal; but the voice of the assembly was against it. Its rejection detracted little from the humiliation of the surrender; and Broadfoot stood forward in the hope of persuading his comrades to reconsider the remaining terms. He dwelt especially on the discredit of demanding the withdrawal of Akbar Khan from Lughman, as though they stood in fear of the Sirdar; he urged upon them the expediency of requiring the surrender of all the British prisoners in the hands of the Afghans, as a preliminary to the evacuation of Jellalabad; and he implored them to consider whether, if they were determined to abandon their position, they could not give some dignity to the movement, by imparting to it the character of a military operation, deceiving the enemy as to real intention, and fighting, if need be, their way down to Peshawur. All these proposals were overruled. At a later date, the last received some support from men who had before condemned it.

And so, slightly altered in its phraseology—which Broadfoot had denounced as too abject—the letter was carried through the Council and prepared for transmission to the Shah. After the votes had been given, Broadfoot sarcastically congratulated them on the figure that they would make if the relieving force arrived just as the brigade was marching out of Jellalabad, under the terms of a humiliating convention. In such a case, Dennie, who had not the clearest possible perception of the obligations of good faith in such matters, declared that he would not go. Upon which he was told that he would be “made to go;” and the Council broke up amidst greater hilarity than had inaugurated its assemblage.

The letter was despatched to Shah Soojah, and, amidst varied and contending emotions, the members of the Council awaited a reply. In the meanwhile some of them recorded their reasons for the votes they had given; and all earnestly considered the course to be pursued when the expected answer should be received from Caubul. There could be little difference of opinion upon this score. It was determined that, if the answer received from the Shah should be a simple and unconditional acceptance of the proposed terms, the garrison must at once evacuate Jellalabad, and, if faith were broken by the enemy, fight its way to Peshawur; but that, if the answer should be evasive or clogged with reservations and conditions, they would be at liberty to adopt any course that might seem most expedient to them.

The answer came. It called upon the chief officers at Jellalabad, if they were sincere in their proposals, to affix their seals to the letter. A Council of war was held. Sale and Macgregor urged the members to put their seals to a copy of the original paper of terms. Broadfoot, pleading that the nature of the Shah’s letter, expressing a doubt, as it did, of their sincerity, liberated them from all foregone obligations, proposed that the whole question of capitulation should be reconsidered. He then offered to the acceptance of the Council the draft of a letter, stating that as the Shah and his chiefs had not answered their former communication—either by accepting or rejecting the proposed terms—that they should be referred to the Governor-General. There was much warm discussion. The proposed letter was pronounced violent, and eventually rejected. Another letter to the same effect, but more temperate in its tone, was proposed by Backhouse, and also rejected. Sale denounced, in strong language, the opposition of these men; some still more vehement discussion followed, and the council was adjourned.

An hour afterwards the members re-assembled, they who had felt and spoken hotly had cooled down; and the debate was resumed more gravely and decorously than it had broken off. Colonel Dennie and Captain Abbott had, by this time, determined to support the proposal for holding out, and Colonel Monteith, who had before recorded his opinions in favour of the course recommended by Major Macgregor, now prepared a letter, which, though couched in much less decided terms than those proposed by Broadfoot and Backhouse, was not a renewal of the negotiation. After some discussion this was accepted by the council, and a messenger was despatched to Caubul with the important missive. It left them free to act as they should think fit;—most happily it left them free, for the next day brought tidings from Peshawur that large reinforcements were moving up through the Punjab, and that strenuous efforts were to be made for their relief. It was clear that the government had not abandoned them to their fate. It was now equally clear to all, that it was their duty to hold out to the last hour. There was no more talk of withdrawal.[39]

This was on the 13th of February. The garrison were in good heart, and the fortifications of Jellalabad were rising rapidly around them. In spite of all opposition at Caubul—in spite of the counsels of Alexander Burnes, who heartily despised the enemy—in spite of a sneering remark from the envoy, that the sappers would have nothing to do but to pick a few stones from under the gun-wheels, Broadfoot had insisted on taking with him a good supply of working tools, some of which he had ordered to be made for him, by forced labour, in the city; and had sent an urgent indent on the march for further supplies.[40] It seemed, he said afterwards, “as though Providence had stiffened his neck on this occasion;” for now at Jellalabad, he found himself with implements of all kinds and with large supplies of blasting powder, able alike to make and to destroy. And gallantly the good work proceeded, in prospect, too, of an immediate attack, for Akbar Khan, with the white English tents which proclaimed our disgrace, was within a few miles of the walls which we were turning into formidable defences.