I
The origin of place-names, and the reason for them, are always matters of interest. Sometimes we may know both, often only one, and sometimes neither. Frequently a dead and forgotten old resident survives in the name of the hill he built his house on, or of the pond or brook by the side of which he lived, or in the property he once owned, or even in some event in which he was a prominent actor. Thus, the Brighams of Essex, in Brigham Hill; the Burlings, in Burlington; Count Fredenburgh, in Fredenburgh Falls and M. Chasy, nephew of Tracy, in Chazy, have a kind of immortality. The name of Samuel Champlain is preserved not only in the Lake which is called after him, but in the River Champlain, the Town Champlain, the Village Champlain; and who can give the number of Champlain hotels and streets, in the cities and towns and villages of the United States and of the British Provinces north of us? Also it is interesting that many localities in our very midst have had names in common use for a time, which, later, are lost in oblivion.
For years I have noted place-names and their reputed origin, both curious and suggestive, in our locality; and am constantly adding to them. Quite recently a man in our city spoke of Happy Hill, and another, in a neighboring town, of Pirate’s Hollow. Thus I added two to my list, and inquiry revealed their origin. I can give, approximately, the beginning of, and reason for, Providence Island, Gougeville, Molasses Corner, North and South Hero, Johnnycake Street and North Africa. Even The Devil’s Half Acre has quite a known history. But I greatly desire information concerning Whig Hollow, Cumberland Head, Beartown, Valcour, Suckertown, The Lost Nation, and many others.
On the western border of Lake Champlain, scarce five miles from its outlet into the Richelieu river, in the town of Champlain, opposite the lower end of Isle La Motte, is a famous headland called Point au Fer, freely rendered into English Point of Iron—Iron Point. But its common and only name now is the French Point au Fer. No iron is found there, and there is nothing suggestive of the hardness of iron in its shape, or in the ruggedness of its shores. Hadden, Riedesel, Phillips and many others called it Point au Fer only, and I think it proper to consider this to be its real name, in spite of the fact that on a map issued about 1748, from surveys made in 1732, it is called Point au Feu, or, in English, Point of Fire—Fire Point. It may be that the transcribers mistook the final r for u, an easy mistake when we consider the similarity between r and u as often found in old manuscripts.
I think I have chanced on the origin of and reason for this place-name. I will present my evidence to you and hope you will agree with me, or disagree, if you have reason to the contrary.
This evidence is found in and based upon, an account in volume 48, pages 99–107, of “The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents,” edited by Reuben G. Thwaites, secretary of the Wisconsin Historical Society. This volume, 48, came out in July, 1899. The original was the Relation of 1662–63, written by Father Jerome Lalemant, and contains a graphic account of a fierce fight between some Algonquins and a band of Iroquois returning from a raid on Montreal.
Father Lalemant says:
“The Algonquins living at Sillery, after passing the winter in innocence and piety, resolved, towards spring, to go and wage a petty warfare. They were only forty, but their courage exceeded their number. Arriving at the Richelieu Islands without discovering any foe, they entered the river of the same name and directed their course to Lake Champlain, where they lay in ambush. Scarcely had they arrived there when those victors who had dealt their blow at Montreal, and were conducting their poor Frenchmen in triumph, were discovered by our Algonquins, who followed them with their eyes and noted their camping spot. Our Christian soldiers, under cover of the night, stealthily advanced and surrounded the place where the enemy were sleeping, in readiness to attack them at the first dawn of day. But as it is very difficult to walk in the night time without making a noise, or by hitting some branch, one of the Iroquois chiefs was awakened in some way or other. He was a brave man named Garistatsia (“the Iron”), vigilant and greatly renowned for his exploits performed against us and against our savages. The chief of the Algonquins, perceiving that the leader of the Iroquois was this Garistatsia—or in French Le Fer, so famous and renowned by the many disasters that have so often made us mingle our tears with our blood, made straight at him and by a hatchet stroke on the head, forced Garistatsia to fall to the ground, where his courage forbade him to acknowledge himself vanquished, and he yielded the victory after losing his life. Ten of the enemy remained dead on the spot, while three were taken alive, and the rest escaped, completely covered with wounds.”
This was a terrific engagement, though short. It evidently occurred on the west shore of Lake Champlain, between a band of Iroquois raiders returning over land from Montreal and a band of Algonquins, who, coming up the Richelieu, had “scarcely arrived” at Lake Champlain. These latter proceeded to surround the Iroquois. How much more easily surrounded on a point than on a continuous shore! The leader of the Iroquois “was famous and renowned.” He had “so often made us” i. e. both French and Algonquins, “mingle our tears with our blood!” So well known was he that the leader of the Algonquins, even in the dark, “made straight at him”—in order to rid the country of this distinguished enemy.
Therefore, I think it not unreasonable to claim that this battle, in the year 1663, was fought on the cape on the west border of Lake Champlain opposite the lower portion of Isle La Motte, known now and for so many years as Point au Fer, and that the cape received its appellation from that of the mighty Iroquois chief killed there—“Garistatsia, or in French Le Fer.”