But Congress did not, fortunately, share the views of these white-fingered, thin-skinned gentlemen, to whom a man's personal appearance was vastly more than his distinguished services. They held, with the doughty hero of many battles himself, that, as a soldier's duty in war was to fight, it mattered not so much how he fought, nor in what garb, so long as he won the victories. As to lack of capacity, and being responsible for the loss of Forts Clinton and Montgomery, the court of inquiry, which sat in the spring of 1778, entirely vindicated him, holding that they fell, "not from any fault, misconduct, or negligence of the commanding officers, but solely through the want of an adequate force under their command to maintain and defend them."

Who was responsible for the lack of that "adequate force" none knew better than the Commander-in-Chief, who had withdrawn Old Put's veterans on six different occasions and compelled him to clothe the skeleton ranks with raw militia, so that it ill became him to write (in his letter to Livingston): "Proper measures are taking to carry on the inquiry into the loss of Fort Montgomery, agreeable to the direction of Congress, and it is more than probable, from what I have heard, that the issue of that inquiry will afford just grounds for the removal of General Putnam."

But the "issue of that inquiry" was in favor of Putnam, who demanded not only a court of inquiry, but a trial by court-martial, "so that my character might stand in a clearer light in the world." For, as he justly observed in a letter to Congress, "to be posted here as a publick spectator for every ill-minded person to make remarks upon, I think is very poor encouragement for any persons to venture their lives and fortunes in the service."

General Putnam received notice of this court of inquiry and of his suspension from command pending its proceedings, as he was returning from Connecticut, in March; but the month of July had arrived, the battle of Monmouth fought, and General Lee's court-martial had been ordered, before he was reinstated. Then Washington rather grudgingly gave him command of the right wing of the grand army, at White Plains, near or on Chatterton Hill, where he had vainly tried to reenforce McDougall, in the fierce fight that took place there not quite two years before. The three armies were then collectively of "greater strength than any force that had been brought together during the war," consisting, says Major Humphreys, of sixty regular regiments of foot, four battalions of artillery, four regiments of horse, and several corps of State troops. "But, as the enemy kept close within their lines on York Island, nothing could be attempted."

Putnam was afterward sent across the Hudson, where, notwithstanding the prejudices alleged against him in that region, where he had formerly commanded, he was retained until the army was ordered into winter quarters. These quarters were finally located in his own State, and were admirably chosen for the purpose at that time, which was to hold the troops together until the spring campaign should open. "The site for the winter cantonment became an important question," writes Charles B. Todd, a talented son of Connecticut, and an authority on her history, "and was long and anxiously debated. Many of the general officers were for staying where they were in the Highlands. Putnam pronounced in favor of some central location in western Connecticut, where they could protect both the Sound and the Hudson, and especially Danbury, which was a supply station, and which had been taken and burned by the enemy the year previous. General Heath's brigade had been on guard in Danbury during this summer of 1778, and while visiting him Putnam had no doubt discovered the three sheltered valleys formed by the Saugatuck and its tributaries which lie along the border line of what was then Danbury (now Bethel) and Redding. These valleys, open to the south, are warm, sunny, well watered, and in that day were well wooded, and so defended by dominating hills and crags, that a handful could hold them against an army. They were but three days' march from the Highlands."

Putnam himself superintended the laying out of the three camps, one for each valley, where, in log huts similar to those erected at Valley Forge the winter previous, the soldiers were quartered. Here the Army of the North, consisting of two brigades of Continental troops, two of Connecticut, one brigade from New Hampshire, with artillery and cavalry, wore away the long and weary winter of 1778-'79. There were two major-generals, including Putnam as commander-in-chief, and five brigadiers, so it will be seen that the cantonment was one of great importance.

"Putnam pilgrims" should by all means refresh their patriotism by a visit to the site of that winter camp in western Connecticut, for it has been carefully preserved by the State, which has laid out a magnificent park, erected a monument, restored some of the huts, and collected every relic available of that noble Army of the North. The house which Old Put occupied that winter, as headquarters, was on Umpawaug Hill and is still pointed out, while at a little distance stands the one-time residence of Joel Barlow, the Revolutionary poet, who, with Major Humphreys, Putnam's aide-de-camp and later his biographer, enlivened the camp that winter. From the summit of Gallows Hill, where General Putnam hung a spy, and had a deserter shot to death, one may see the sites of the original camps, the only visible remains of which are rude piles of stones, the ruins of the "chimney-backs."

In or near the camp preserved within the park, General Israel Putnam once performed a deed which some have called his greatest act. "Greatest if measured by results, and most typical of him. Who is not thrilled with the poem of Sheridan's ride—turning a panic-stricken army, and snatching victory from defeat; and here, near a century before, Putnam rode after a deserting army and brought them back to victory ... a victory over themselves."

These remarks refer to the defection of the Connecticut troops, that winter, who, half starved and half frozen in their narrow quarters, "badly fed, badly clothed, and worse paid," resolved to march to Hartford, lay their grievances before the General Assembly, and demand redress at the point of the bayonet.

"Word having been brought to General Putnam," says Major Humphreys, who was present, "that the second brigade was under arms for this purpose, he mounted his horse, galloped to the cantonment, and thus addressed them: 'My brave lads, whither are you going? Do you intend to desert your officers, and to invite the enemy to follow you into the country? Whose cause have you been fighting and suffering so long in—is it not your own? Have you no property, no parents, wives or children? You have behaved like men so far—all the world is full of your praise—and posterity will stand astonished at your deeds; but not if you spoil all at last. Don't you consider how much the country is distressed by the war, and that your officers have not been any better paid than yourselves? But we all expect better times, and that the country will do us ample justice. Let us all stand together, then, and fight it out like brave soldiers. Think what a shame it would be for Connecticut men to run away from their officers!'"