Showing posts with label Revolutionary War. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Revolutionary War. Show all posts

Friday, November 5, 2010

Gravestone of the Day: Jonathan Felt

Jonathan Felt, 1800, Wrentham, MA
In memory of
Capt, JONATHAN FELT
who departed this life Nov. 5th
1800
in ye 53d, Year of
his Age.

Thro wars & fiery Battles safe I've fled,
Yet slow disease has lodg'd me mongst ye dead,
Mourn not ye loss my friends in tears and sighs
Since we shall meet again beyond ye skies.

This cumbersome verse makes reference to Jonathan Felt's extensive service during the Revolutionary War. He responded to the Lexington Alarm on April 19, 1775 and served through the war until the Yorktown campaign. After the war, Felt returned to Wrentham, where he served as a Justice of the Peace until dying of consumption in 1800. He was a member of the the Society of the Cincinnati.

Also of note: Jonathan's mother's name was Lovewell Wells Felt. Let me say that again: she was born Lovewell Wells and became Lovewell Felt. Is there room for her in my novel?

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Gravestone of the Day: The Saddest Grave in Menotomy

Originally posted on July 14, 2008

The Old Menotomy Burying Ground in Arlington, MA is not my favorite graveyard around here. It is very well maintained and manicured, which is fine, but it's not as much fun as going into the overgrown, neglected burying grounds. It's the difference between going into a junk shop and going into an antique store where everything is labeled and locked away in cases. You'll see some great stuff in the glass cases, but it's more fun to go into the junk shop and there's a better chance you'll find a great deal. That said, Menotomy isn't a bad little graveyard.

I try not to get too caught up in the tragedies behind gravestones, preferring to focus on their value as material objects and concrete expressions of cultural values. Each stone represents a terrible loss for someone, so there isn't much point in ascribing special value to some over others because they are especially tragic. Still, every once in a while, a stone tells such a sad story that I can't help but be drawn to it, even if it isn't stylistically or linguistically interesting.

Which brings me to the saddest grave in Menotomy. Along the back wall of the burying ground, there is a small British flag stuck into the ground, marking the approximate gravesite of some of the 40 British Regulars who were killed at the Battle of Menotomy. A small, laminated card on the front reads,
In Memory
of the British Soldiers
who gave their lives
in the service of
their King and Country
April 19, 1775
Unnamed
and seldom remembered,
they have lain here over 230 years.
Rest in Peace.
I don't know who put up this little memorial, but I found it very touching. It stands very near the grand obelisk dedicated to the slain Minute Men and the juxtaposition is stark. There's a little stone dedicated to an unnamed Regular in the Lexington graveyard that didn't strike me as too sad, so I think that maybe the lack of a stone is what makes this ephemeral tribute particularly pathetic and poignant.

I'll join Lori in remembering the American dead, but would humbly ask that we also include a thought for these unnamed dead.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

1775 or 1794?


In my recent post about the Daniel Malcom gravestone, I argued that I could conclusively date the stone to the autumn of 1769 based on a description that appeared in the Essex Gazette in November of that year. The implication was that other stones bearing pro-Whig sentiments may also have been erected shortly after the honorees' deaths. If so, stones dedicated to people who died in 1775 would have stood as public monuments throughout the war years.

I have since discovered a gravestone that might challenge this dating: the Charles Pratt Marston stone in Burlington.

Friday, October 23, 2009

"Safe From British Bullets"

Many of Boston's revolutionary-era Whigs —John Hancock, Sam Adams, John Adams — are household names today. Others, like Joseph Warren and James Otis, Jr., are not national heroes, but are still well-known. Then, there is a third tier of patriots who were famous in the 1760s, but are largely forgotten by non-specialists today: William Molineux, Ebenezer Macintosh, etc.

One of those who has seen his fame diminish over time is Captain Daniel Malcom/Malcolm. In the 1760s, Malcolm was known as a rabble-rousing merchant who repeatedly defied customs officials.

In September of 1766, two officials, William Sheafe and Benjamin Hallowell, got an anonymous tip that Malcom had several casks of smuggled alcohol hidden in his cellar in Boston's North End. When Sheafe and Hallowell arrived to search the premises and confiscate the liquor, Malcom refused to unlock the cellar, saying that "if any Man attempted it, he would blow his Brains out." The customs officials retreated. When they came back with a search warrant, their access was blocked by several hundred of Malcom's closest friends. Read a more complete account of the incident here.   

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Field Trip!



Today, Professor Lepore and I took the undergrads into Boston to spend the day exploring the 18th-century city. They are beginning to write their papers for our American Revolution seminar, so it was important for them to kickstart their historical imaginations. It was a beautiful day and a very successful trip.

We started the morning on the Common, talking about the occupation and Bostonians' reactions to the presence of the soldiers. Then, it was on to the Granary Burying Ground and Kings Chapel, where Prof. Lepore generously allowed me to say a few words about gravestones and memorialization. In King's Chapel, I had a chance to sit in Ame and Elizabeth Cuming's pew (#36), which was a real treat. They had a window seat just a few boxes back from Governor Hutchinson.

Friday, October 9, 2009

The Shoemaker and the Tea Party


The undergrads in my research seminar are reading Alfred F. Young's The Shoemaker and the Teaparty: Memory and the American Revolution.

I could go on an on about how this is a lovely little book for introducing the subject of historical memory to undergraduates. I could tell you that Young's skillful blending of biography and argument in the first half is a great model for writers embarking on their first research projects. I could rhapsodize at length about the usefulness of this book for exploring the process of nation-making between 1790 and 1830.

Instead, I will chuckle and observe that the titular shoemaker, George Robert Twelves Hewes, had fifteen children. He named the 11th "Eleven Hewes" and the 15th "George Robert Twelves Fifteen Hewes" (called "Fifteen" in everyday situations).

Also, this book, at 207 pages plus an 11-page preface, earns a VPI Grad Student Seal of Approval.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Watson's Corner Casualties

 
Three of the men who were killed at Watson's Corner on April 19, 1775 are buried beneath this monument in the Old Burying Ground between Harvard Square and Cambridge Common. The fourth casualty, Isaac Gardner, is buried in Brookline.

ERECTED BY THE CITY
A.D. 1870
TO THE MEMORY OF
JOHN HICKS,
WILLIAM MARCY,
MOSES RICHARDSON,
BURIED HERE.
JASON RUSSELL,
JABEZ WYMAN,
JASON WINSHIP,
BURIED IN MENOTOMY.
MEN OF CAMBRIDGE
WHO FELL IN DEFENCE OF
THE LIBERTY OF THE PEOPLE
APRIL 19, 1775.
OH WHAT A GLORIOUS MORNING IS THIS

Friday, September 18, 2009

Watson's Corner


I live in an area of Cambridge that used to be called "Watson's Corner." There's an historical marker near my house that tells the story of four local men who were killed by retreating British soldiers after Lexington and Concord.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

"Died in the Army of ye United States"

I spend a substantial amount of time reading about the American Revolution, but until I visited the Bridge Street Cemetery in Northampton, I had never heard of Major Brigadier General Seth Pomeroy. The more I learn about him, the more surprised I am that he is not one of those remembered among the second tier of founding fathers.


Pomeroy's story has all the makings of a good folk hero tale — he was a frontier gunsmith who took part in the Louisbourg expedition, fought at Lake George during the Seven Years' War, and, at age 69, rode 100 miles in a night to help defend Bunker Hill. He kept journals — there's even a poem about him. Seth Pomeroy would be a good character for historical fiction — he was everywhere and he seems to have been a bit eccentric.

The sources indicate that Pomeroy is not actually buried in Northampton. He fell ill and died in Peekskill and was buried in an unmarked grave. I haven't been able to find any mention of his body being relocated, so I suppose the monument in Northampton is a cenotaph.
The stone, carved by Nathaniel Phelps, would be interesting even if the deceased were unknown. What caught my eye was the use of the term "united States." I wonder when the stone was actually carved — if it was erected before 1780 or so, it may be one of the first times those words were carved on a public monument.

The imagery is interesting, too. The "CSP" stands for "Colonel Seth Pomeroy," but I have no idea what the "BG" on the little flags might mean. Guesses?

Sunday, May 31, 2009

In Peace Amidst ye Rage of Noise & War

In Portsmouth, New Hampshire, I found three gravestones with the same, unusual inscription. All date from the Revolutionary War era and look like Lamson shop stones, though I can't be sure. They all start the same way: "In Peace Amidst ye Rage of Noise & War Here Rests the Remains of . . ."

John Hart, Portsmouth, NH, 1777

Jacob Tilton, Portsmouth, NH, 1776

Deborah Parrott, Portsmouth, NH, 1779

I'm very interested in gravestones that recognize public events. The Jason Russell stone is a good example of a stone dedicated to a single person that nonetheless has a lot to say about current events. These three stones aren't quite as overt — no barbarous murders or bloody troops, but they acknowledge the war.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Happy Patriots' Day!

 If you live in Massachusetts or Maine, you already know that today is Patriots' Day. I didn't go out to the reenactment, but I did drag Pete over to Cambridge Common on Saturday night to visit the brass horseshoe prints commemorating the ride of William Dawes.

There are several graves in local graveyards dedicated to those killed on April 19, 1775. British Regulars are buried in Lexington, Arlington, and Milk Row Cemetery in Somerville. Minutemen killed during the battle are buried in all over the place — the Jason Russell gravesite in Arlington is one of the most impressive. I find the British soldiers' graves particularly sad. The makeshift marker in Arlington looks so woefully forgotten. In Lexington, some 19th- or 20th-century mourner erected a more permanent memorial, but it's still anonymous and sad:

The "Lexington Alarm" was a defining moment in the lives of many New England men. Years later, it was the most memorable moment of their lives. In Brooklyn, CT, Asa Pike's gravestone marks him as one of the many Connecticut men who marched to Massachusetts in the days following the battle.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Bunker Hill Graves?

According to the Boston Globe, there may be a mass grave in Charlestown containing the remains of British soldiers killed at the Battle of Bunker Hill. J.L. Bell at Boston 1775 has more.

Friday, February 27, 2009

On Taxation and Representation

I'm spending the afternoon immersed in revolutionary-era Boston again. I am charged with the simple task of issuing a 1,000-word rejoinder to either Bernard Bailyn or Edmund Morgan on the subject of the ideology of freedom in this period. Nice, easy assignments in this class.

As I cast about for something original to say on this topic, let me take heart from Rep. Michele Bachmann (R-MN), who has shown us all that it is not impossible to put a unique spin on 18th-century arguments. At a recent conference (CPAC), emcee Bachmann asked the eager crowd of conservative activists,
I just wondered that if our founders thought taxation without representation was bad, what would they think of representation WITH taxation?
What indeed.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

The Boston Coffee Party

On this date in 1777, John Boyle wrote the following entry in his journal:
A Female Riot. — About 100 Women from the North-Part of the Town, getting information of a Quanty. of Coffee being in the Store of Thos. Boylston, Esqr. which he refused to sell at the regulated Price, attacked him in King-Street, and demanded the Keys of his Store, which he refusing to deliver, they immediately placed him in a Cart, and threatened to Cart him out of Town, upon which he delivered them the Keys. — A Committee was appointed to keep him Custody while the Body was employed in getting the Coffee out of the Store, which they speedily effected, and went off with their booty.
This incident is better known from a letter written by Abigail Adams a week later. In 1990, Doreen Rappaport made the riot the subject of a charming children's book called The Boston Coffee Party. This was one of my very favorite books when I was in elementary school and I used it very successfully with my own second grade students.

In fact, I recommend all of the books in this series, including Sam the Minute Man, George the Drummer Boy, and The Long Way to a New Land. When I taught second grade, we had to use scripted curricula in all subjects (it was a Title 1 district and a Reading First school), but I had a little bit of wiggle room to add supplementary lessons during the English Language Development block. I tried to devise history units that focused on the historical experiences of children, and these books were great. The vocabulary is simple enough that a seven-year-old can read it on his or her own, but the issues raised are meaty. The Boston Coffee Party is my favorite because food riots are near and dear to my heart and because the protagonists are girls.

Other recommendations for introducing K-3 kids to history:

Nettie's Trip South: A young girl accompanies her journalist brother on a trip through the South just before the Civil War. There, she witnesses scenes of slavery and tries to understand them. The pictures in this book are black-and-white, so they may not grab the attention of all children. Be careful when reading this book with young children — I had several students cry during the slave auction scene. I liked starting discussions about slavery with this book rather than with a book about the Underground Railroad because it allowed students to build up some outrage before we start talking about resistance.

Mary Anning: Fossil Hunter: This is English history, but this is a great book and can be used for either social studies or science. Mary Anning (1799-1847) was the English fossil hunter responsible for discovering several important plesiosaur fossils. There are several biographies of Anning, but I like this one best — the sentences are short and easy to read, the pictures are pretty good, and the author explains how members of the Royal Society published Anning's discoveries without giving her credit. One of my brightest students was so offended by this injustice that she wrote about Anning in her journal practically every week for the rest of the year and dressed up as Mary Anning the next Halloween.

Sarah Morton's Day
Samuel Eaton's Day
Tapenum's Day: These books, illustrated with photographs of living historians from Plimoth Plantation, were a smash hit in my classroom. The books follow three children through their typical days in Plimoth c. 1625. The lesson comparing our daily routines to theirs practically writes itself. We spent a whole week on these books (making charts, writing compare/contrast essays, etc.). Other teachers spent the week teaching their students "Ten Little Indians" complete with construction paper headdresses and hand-on-mouth war whooping (I'm not exaggerating). If you must do Thanksgiving, do it with these books and Molly's Pilgrim.

Monday, July 14, 2008

The Saddest Grave in Menotomy

The Old Menotomy Burying Ground in Arlington, MA is not my favorite graveyard around here. It is very well maintained and manicured, which is fine, but it's not as much fun as going into the overgrown, neglected burying grounds. It's the difference between going into a junk shop and going into an antique store where everything is labeled and locked away in cases. You'll see some great stuff in the glass cases, but it's more fun to go into the junk shop and there's a better chance you'll find a great deal. That said, Menotomy isn't a bad little graveyard.

I try not to get too caught up in the tragedies behind gravestones, preferring to focus on their value as material objects and concrete expressions of cultural values. Each stone represents a terrible loss for someone, so there isn't much point in ascribing special value to some over others because they are especially tragic. Still, every once in a while, a stone tells such a sad story that I can't help but be drawn to it, even if it isn't stylistically or linguistically interesting.

Which brings me to the saddest grave in Menotomy. Along the back wall of the burying ground, there is a small British flag stuck into the ground, marking the approximate gravesite of some of the 40 British Regulars who were killed at the Battle of Menotomy. A small, laminated card on the front reads,
In Memory
of the British Soldiers
who gave their lives
in the service of
their King and Country
April 19, 1775
Unnamed
and seldom remembered,
they have lain here over 230 years.
Rest in Peace.
I don't know who put up this little memorial, but I found it very touching. It stands very near the grand obelisk dedicated to the slain Minute Men and the juxtaposition is stark. There's a little stone dedicated to an unnamed Regular in the Lexington graveyard that didn't strike me as too sad, so I think that maybe the lack of a stone is what makes this ephemeral tribute particularly pathetic and poignant.

I'll join Lori in remembering the American dead, but would humbly ask that we also include a thought for these unnamed dead.

Friday, July 4, 2008

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Provincial Soldiers and Popular Religion in the Seven Years' War

Crossposted from American Creation. And I promise I'll stop blogging about this book after this, at least for a while.

The talented historians on this blog have made it abundantly clear that religion played an active role in the intellectual life of our “Founding Fathers.” I’m not particularly interested in the individual faith of particular men, but I am fascinated by the ways in which religion contributed to the development of imagined communities within the new nation.

Recently, I read Fred Anderson’s A People’s Army: Massachusetts Soldiers and Society in the Seven Years’ War (more here), in which Anderson argues that Massachusetts soldiers’ piety and providential thinking encouraged them to think of themselves as a distinct group. By the 1750s, most Massachusetts men (other than those who worked in shipping industries) had very little contact with ordinary non-American Britons. When volunteers from Massachusetts came into contact with hard-drinking, hard-fighting, foul-mouthed British regulars, they were horrified. For their part, British officers and men found the Americans undisciplined, sanctimonious, disrespectful, and old-fashioned. Many factors, including recruiting practices and military discipline, contributed to these misunderstandings, but religion was a major element.

The average 18th-century British regular soldier was not a particularly observant Christian. Like all Britons, most were baptized and attended occasional Anglican services, but the army was not overly concerned with the spiritual life of its men. In 1758, the British army camped near Lake George had 15 chaplains: 14 served the 6,000 Massachusetts provincial troops while one served the 6,000+ regulars (210). While New England soldiers participated in daily prayer services and attended two sessions of preaching on Sundays, regular soldiers were seldom seen participating in organized religious services.

Disparity in religious observance between the two groups was not just a matter of formal worship. Massachusetts men were deeply troubled by the regulars’ conduct, complaining that British soldiers ignored the Sabbath, fornicated with female camp followers, and regularly took the Lord’s name in vain. Caleb Rea, a Massachusetts soldier, said of swearing, “as a moral cause I can’t but charge our defeat on this sin, which so much prevails, even among the chief commanders” (117).

Their mundane interactions with British soldiers in camp convinced many Massachusetts soldiers that, “they were the moral superiors of the redcoats, and this conviction colors most of their perceptions of the British” (117).

Anderson argues that the young men who fought in the Seven Years’ War were profoundly influenced by their interactions with regulars. During the war, they began to think of themselves as culturally separate from the ordinary Britons (admittedly, not a fair sampling of British society in general) whose behavior so offended them, which made it easier for them to contemplate political separation 15 years later.

Another factor setting provincial soldiers apart from the regulars was their “old fashioned” providential thinking. New England soldiers believed that every occurrence — victories, defeats, bad weather, etc. — had “not just an immediate cause, but an underlying moral cause” and that the army would never prosper while the regular soldiers continued to defy God (203). The redcoats tended to dismiss this view, but it allowed the provincial soldiers to credit victories to their own prayers and clean living (even though their military contributions were dubious). In this way, Massachusetts soldiers came to believe that they were primarily responsible for winning the war and that the regulars were, if anything, a hindrance to final victory. The regulars might be tactically competent, courageous, well-supplied, and numerically superior, but the New Englanders believed that these considerations could never lead to victory if they were not right with God.

The implication (not made explicit by Anderson) is that this belief in the efficacy of Providence may have enabled New Englanders to face down British regulars in the 1770s, despite the army’s overwhelming advantages.

Too often, historians explain Revolutionary-era ideology as exclusively rational, legalistic, and inspired by the Enlightenment without taking the colonists’ providential worldview seriously. If, as Anderson argues, young provincial soldiers were “accustomed to casting events into [a] providential framework,” it is unlikely that they would have abandoned this habit of mind twenty years later (199). Without further investigation, it is impossible to say definitively whether soldiers from other colonies would have shared Massachusetts’ fondness for interpreting events as signs from God. In addition, it is hard to imagine that Virginians or western Pennsylvanians drew such a stark distinction between themselves and their redcoated comrades based on religious communitarianism. Still, Anderson makes a crucial point by casting popular religion as a political, as well as a cultural, phenomenon. For Massachusetts soldiers, religion was both a spiritual matter and a badge of inclusion in an imagined community — one that was beginning to conceive of itself as distinct from the rest of the British Empire politically as well as culturally.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

"I've Lost My Breeches!"

So what did John Boyle write that is so shocking that the NEHGR decided to snip it out of his diary? Nothing as shocking as I had hoped. I had already found most of the redacted entries on my own, and others were just strange.

The lengthiest excluded entry is from August 14, 1773 and concerns a meeting of the Sons of Liberty. The entry is in two parts — the NEHGR printed the first part, but not the second.

This text appeared in the NEHGR in 1930:
This being the Anniversary of the ever-memorable 14th of August 1765, about 400 of the True born Sons of Liberty convened on Roxbury Common from this and the Neighbouring Towns. There was a superb Tent erected sufficiently capacious to contain the numerous Guests. Unfortunately the Forenoon was wet, which prevented a great Number of Gentlemen, who had engaged their Company from attending the Festivity of the day At the hour of dinner it ceased to rain, and two ranges of Tables were filled about 150 Feet in Length But unhappily for the Guests at the South Table, just after a blessing was asked, and they were seated down, it gave way and fell to the Ground, carrying away at the same time the Benches on which they sat along with it. By this misfortune about 200 Persons, genteely dressed, were mingled with Gravies, Sauces, Salt, Pepper, Sugar, Marrow, Flesh and Bones, Rum, Cyder, Punch and Wine, Plates, Dishes, Knives and Forks However, after this Disaster, the Table was again reared, the Provisions placed, and the Guests sat down. During the Entertainment, a select Band of Musick patroled the Tent, and gladdened the Hearts of the Patriots with the celebrated Song of the Farmer. After an elegant Repast a Number of patriotic Toasts were drank.
The NEHGR account ends there, but Boyle's entry continues:
Soon after the Feast, some Sarcastical Genius wrote the following Poem upon the misfortune which attended the Guests at the fall of the Table. — — !!!
Howl, Stygian Muse, the Noise and Discord dire,
Of heated ovens, and of crack’ling fire;
While Smoke and Soot, Pots, Spits, and Sticks of Wood,
And Coals and Crock, and Garbage, Guts and Blood,
With hideous Riot, all deform the Floor;
Rage, Fury, Firebrands, Bluster, Outrage, Roar,
Blend in one Chaos. — Lo! the Feast appears,
And Charms at once our Eyes, Nose, Touch, Mouth, and Ears,
Fall on, huzza! break down the Bulwark strong,
Let gravy gush, and Pasty sprawl along,
Salt, Pepper, Sugar, Marrow, Flesh and Bones,
Mix in the Mouth, while Spoons encounter Spoons,
Forks rush at Forks, and Plates on Plates resound,
Knives Knives repel, and Crust recrackles round.
War, Tumult, Havock, Shouts, Intreaties, Threats,
Thunder of tumbling Chairs, Stools, Crickets, Seats,
Wild Scenes of Rapture, Horror, Fun, Despair,
Reach to the Roof, and rattle through the Air.
Rum, Cyder, Punch, their frothing Billows roll,
Tankard on Tankard shower’d and Bowl on Bowl.
“Pour Down the Blessing” was the Chaplain’s Word,
And on them all the Blessings down were pour’d.
The Table totters, and the Leaves at once,
Crash to the Floor in one amazing Bounce.
Now Famine stares, now raves the Fury, Thirst,
Frail dishes clash, and batter’d Bottles burst.
What Din! what Uproar, Outcries, screams and screeches!
“I’ve spoilt my Sunday Coat” — “I’ve lost my Breeches!”
“The Soup (‘twas cold indeed) has scalt our Skins,”
“I’m drown’d in Flip and Custard!” — “O my Shins!”
“Lift off the Table, Oh!” — Pull off this Pig.” —
“Alas! my Hat.” — “Farewell Commencement Wig.”
“Unheard of Hotch-poch! Pudding all this side,
This other all bebutterfishify’d! —
“Help! Help! O pick me from among the spoil,
“O’erwhelm’d beneath this Apple-sauce and Oyl.” —
The pious Parson! — fine bedight was he,
With Grace and Greece, Gravy and Gravity.
Unlucky Chance! — how ruefully bepatch’d!
Befoul’d, bedrench d, bepickl d and bewitch’d,
Besoak’d, besous’d! — the figure of the Man!
A Sop so sputters in a dripping pan:
So, mix’d with Mud, you’ve seen a drowned Cat,
and a brown pancake wallop in Hog’s Fat.
His sole attempt these Blessings could obtain,
Who never pray’d before, and never will again.
I almost titled this post "Farewell Commencement Wig."

Why was this poem excluded? The NEHGR included other poems, as well as lengthy accounts of Wolfe's actions on the Plains of Abraham (copied from newspapers). Was this poem too flippant? Did they dislike the jab at prayer?

Who was the "Sarcastical Genius"? It may have been Boyle himself, since he was able to quote the poem at length. Whoever it was, he portrayed the Sons of Liberty in a manner the NEHGR found "hardly suitable for publication."

Monday, June 2, 2008

Israel Putnam

Another interesting thing about the cemetery in Brooklyn is that it was the original resting place of General Israel Putnam. Although he is not well remembered today, Putnam was quite famous in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. He never quite reached Daniel Boone or Johnny Appleseed status, but Putnam was a similar kind of folk hero: a bull-riding, wolf-slaying, escaped Indian captive who fought like a wildcat at Bunker Hill.

The smirk-inducingly named Indian History for Young Folks (1885) summarizes Putnam's career in glowing terms:
Few men ever encountered such a variety of dangers, or faced death in so many different forms. From the fierce she-wolf in her den — a story with which all boys are familiar; the burning powder-magazine at Fort Edward; the fiery torture at the stake; the tomahawk and the bullet of the concealed savage whose forest haunts he invaded; close and bloody contests with Indians and Frenchmen in the Old French War; at the Havana, fighting at the same time the Spaniard and the pestilence, which proved fatal to so many of his companions; and lastly at Bunker Hill and on other Revolutionary fields — a conspicuous target for British bullets. With the exception of the singeing he got at Fort Edward, and the cruelties inflicted on him while a prisoner, he escaped, as by a miracle, from all these manifold perils without a wound.
Putnam died in Brooklyn, CT in 1790. In the years after his death, so many people visited the little cemetery in Brooklyn to touch his gravestone that they wore the corners off of the tablet. In 1888, an elaborate equestrian statue of Putnam (designed by Karl Gerhardt) was erected about half a mile down the road and Putnam's body was re-interred underneath it. The damaged stone was moved to the Connecticut State Capitol. A replica now stands at the site of the original grave, and the equestrian bears the original epitaph.

I guess I'm so used to the Putnam statue, which is a stone's throw from my aunt's house, that I never realized how strange it is that such an impressive statue stands in such an undistinguished location. The statue is in front of the diminutive Brooklyn Historical Society on the side of a quiet road in a sleepy little town. The only reason anyone ever sees Brooklyn, CT is that Rte. 6 runs through the center of town, but "town" is a generous description. I say this with love — I got my marriage license at the (adorable) Brooklyn Town Hall. If you're ever in the area, stop by to visit General Putnam — it's pretty amazing to see such a gigantic, impressive statue in such a bucolic setting.

To the memory
Of
Israel Putnam, Esquire,
Senior Major General in the Armies
Of
The United States of America
Who
Was born at Salem
In the Province of Massachusetts
On the seventh day of January
A.D. 1718:
And died
On the twenty ninth day of May
A.D. 1790:
Passenger
If thou art a Soldier
Drop a Tear over the dust of a Hero
Who
Ever attentive
To the lives and happiness of his Men
Dared to lead
Where any Dared to follow;

If a Patriot
Remember the distinguished and gallant services
Rendered thy Country
By the Patriot who sleeps beneath this Monument;
If thou art Honest, generous & worthy
Render a cheerful tribute of respect
To a Man
Whose generosity was singular
Whose honesty was proverbial
Who
Raised himself to universal esteem
And offices of Eminent distinction
By personal worth
And a
Useful life