Notwithstanding many members had no confidence in the political integrity of Great Britain,[739] such holding of the convention troops as prisoners of war, contrary to the principles of international law, certainly placed Congress in a most unfavorable light. Even so distinguished a member as Richard Henry Lee, writing to Washington, says: "It is unfortunately too true that our enemies pay little regard to good faith, or any obligations of justice and humanity which render the Convention of Saratoga a matter of great moment; and it is also, as you justly observe, an affair of infinite delicacy. The undoubted advantage they will take even of the appearance of infraction on our part, and the American character, which is concerned in preserving its faith inviolate, cover this affair with difficulties, and prove the disadvantage we are under in conducting war against an old, corrupt, and powerful people, who, having much credit and influence in the world, will venture on things that would totally ruin the reputation of young and rising communities like ours." We would further remark that the moral standard of even the most civilized nations was not then as high as in this more advanced age, and that upon the construction of this convention hung the independence of the United States. Napier said of the Convention of Cintra in 1808: "A convention implies some weakness, and must be weighed in the scales of prudence, not those of justice."
General Burgoyne and his staff were allowed by Congress to return to England on parole. Soon after their departure the British troops were removed to Rutland, Mass., because of fears of their being rescued by the British forces then at Newport, R. I. Congress finally directed that the Convention troops, in order to be more easily subsisted, should be removed to Charlottesville, Virginia,[740] where they arrived in January, 1779, and they were detained in the United States till the conclusion of peace with Great Britain. Most of the officers had in the mean time been exchanged.
Dr. Deane, in concluding his investigation of this subject, says: "There can be no doubt that the supreme authority in the State would always have the right, as it has the power, to revise a treaty made by its agents, as in the case we have been considering. This follows from the nature of sovereignty itself. An Arnold might be bribed to to capitulate to the enemy. But where such treaties are entered into in good faith, and the obvious powers of the commanders have not been exceeded, the agreements between the victor and the vanquished are regarded by the highest authorities as to be sacredly kept. Humanity demands it; otherwise there would be no cessation of hostilities till the annihilation of both belligerents."[741]
While Great Britain had just cause to complain of the violation of the Convention of Saratoga by the American Congress, she might ask herself, did she always observe strict faith with her revolted colonies.
According to the Articles of Capitulation of Charleston, S. C., May 12, 1780, the garrison were allowed some of the honors of war. They were to march out and deposit their arms between the canal and the works of the place, but the drums were not to beat a British march, nor the colors to be uncased; the Continental troops and seamen, keeping their baggage, were to remain prisoners of war until exchanged; the militia were to be permitted to return to their respective homes as prisoners on parole, and while they kept their parole were not to be molested in their property by the British troops; the citizens of all descriptions were to be considered as prisoners on parole, and to hold their property in the town on the same terms as the militia.
After the capitulation, Sir Henry Clinton sent out three expeditions and issued three proclamations, all having in view the subjugation of South Carolina. The butchery which Tarleton inflicted is well known; and even the British historian, Stedman, who was then an officer under General Clinton, says of it: "The virtue of humanity was totally forgot." The enemy's detachments, sent to various parts of the State, paid little regard to the rights and property of its inhabitants. Sir Henry, assuming that the province was already conquered, issued, before his departure to New York, a proclamation discharging all the military prisoners, except those captured in Fort Moultrie and Charleston, from their parole after June 20, 1780. Thus, without their own consent, by Clinton's arbitrary fiat, these paroled persons were converted from their neutrality into British subjects, and compelled to take up arms against their neighbors, or, failing to comply with this enforced allegiance, were treated as rebels. The Whig inhabitants were worried, plundered, and murdered by Tories, in open violation of all British pledges; leading men were confined in prison-ships; and patriotic citizens, who had resumed their swords upon finding all guaranties violated, had their property sequestrated, and themselves were severely punished, sometimes with death. The British rule was truly a reign of terror.
Lord Mahon stigmatizes in the severest language American faith as utterly derelict in carrying out the Convention of Saratoga,[742] while of the sequel of the capitulation of Charleston he has no holy horror. His only remark is: "Perhaps these measures exceeded the bounds of justice; certainly they did the bounds of policy." This same English historian, in his account of Arnold's treason, speaks of the death of André as the "greatest blot" upon the career of Washington. He contends that it was unjust to arrest André, because he had a safeguard from Arnold; and sneers at the twelve distinguished American generals upon the Board which condemned the spy, as incompetent plebeians, drawn from "the plough-handle and from the shop-board." According to Mahon's fallacious mode of reasoning, Washington should not only have let André go free, because protected by the traitor's pass, but should have given up West Point, its garrison and arms, to Sir Henry Clinton, as fully agreed upon by Arnold, the duly constituted American commander. According to such reasoning, Judas Iscariot was justified in betraying the Saviour, because he had been one of the trusted twelve who sat down to the Last Supper. The just fate of the spy and betrayer was the same, except that Judas was his own executioner.
Of the various military conventions, that of Kloster-Zeven, of September 8, 1757, between the Duke of Cumberland and Marshal Richelieu, most resembles that of Saratoga. In both the victors had the vanquished at their mercy; in both the terms of surrender, under the circumstances, were moderate beyond all necessity; in both the capitulations were unsatisfactory to the governments concerned; and in both the treaties were broken from motives of expediency, frivolous pretexts being used to cover the odium of bad faith.
George II., as Elector of Hanover, "to clear himself", says Sir Edward Cust, "from the dishonor of the convention, disavowed his son's authority to sign it", recalled him from his command, and declared that the hero of Culloden had ruined his father and disgraced himself. We cannot enter into the reasons assigned by the British ministry for abrogating this compact, but they were at the least as invalid as those used by our Congress in suspending the execution of the Convention of Saratoga. When the Hanoverian army, under Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick, took the field in contravention of agreement, Marshal Richelieu declared his own fidelity in keeping the treaty, and that, should the enemy "commit any act of hostility", he, as authorized by the laws of war, "would push matters to the last extremity." The declaration of the French marshal "was seconded", says Smollett, the British historian, "by the Count de Lynar, the Danish ambassador, who had meditated the Convention of Kloster-Zeven under direction of his master to save Hanover from the horrors of war."
