In our early researches, where the sand had not been blown out down to the level of the lake, there were seen heaps of cobble stones, arranged in some order, each perhaps consisting of a bushel or more of sand stones that had been heated by fire. These heaps rested in sand and ashes blackened by charcoal, but never, in a single instance did they contain flints, wrought stones or pottery. In other words, these were not kitchen middens.
For years, I supposed this place to have been prehistoric, as it mostly was. But in 1885, the Prince Society of Boston, in its invaluable series of historical publications, printed “Radisson’s Voyages.” Now, Peter Esprit Radisson was a Frenchman of roving disposition, who came from France to Canada in 1651. He made several “voyages,” as he calls them, going through Lake Champlain to the Iroquois country; and again to Lake Huron and Lake Superior; and, I believe, overland to Hudson’s Bay, in his various journeyings. But he did what we wish more of those early adventurers had done. He left a written account of his experiences. This record was made partly in French and partly in English and is very full of interest. In the year 1652, he was out hunting on the St. Lawrence River, one day, was made prisoner and taken up the Richelieu, through Lake Champlain and thence to the country of the Iroquois. I quote from his “Relation of My Voyage being in Bondage in the hands of the Irokoits.” After being captured (and his captivity seems to have been a pleasant one from beginning to end), he says: “Midday wee came to the River of Richelieu, where we weare not farr gone, but met a new gang of their people in cottages” (village No. 1). After a day and a night, he continues: “Our journey was indifferent good without any delay, w’ch caused us to arrive in a good and pleasant harbour. It was on the side of the sand where our people had any paine scarce to errect their cottages, being that it was a place they had sejourned at before.” (Village No. 2). The next day, he says: “At 3 of the clock in the afternoon we came to a rappid streame, where we were forced to land and carry our Equipages and boats through a dangerous place. Wee had not any encounter that day. Att night where we found cottages ready made (village No. 3), there I cutt wood with all dilligence. The morning early following, we marched wth making great noise, or singing as accustomed. Sejourning awhile, we came to a lake 6 leagues wide, about it a very pleasant country, imbellished with great forests. * * * * We arrived to a fine sandy bancke, where not long before Cabbanes weare errected and places made where Prisoners weare tyed.” (Village No. 4.)
“In this place our wild people sweated after the maner following: first heated stones till they were redd as fire, then they made a lantherne with small sticks, then stoaring the place with deale trees, saving a place in the middle, whereinto they put the stoanes, and covered the place with small covers, then striped themselves naked, went into it. They made a noise as if ye devil weare there; after they being there for an hour they came out of the watter. I thought veryly they weare incensed. It is their usual custom. * * * * In the night they heard some shooting, which made them embark themselves speedily. In the meanwhile they made me lay downe whilst they rowed very hard. I slept securely till morning, when I found meselfe in high rushes. There they stayed without noise.”
Now, this “rappid streame” was the Chambly Rapids.
This 3d village, in my opinion, was that site below Isle Aux Noix, in the parish of St. Valentine, which I have spoken of. Villages No. 1 and No. 2 I have never visited. The lake “imbellished with great forests,” was Champlain. The “fine sandy bancke, where not long before cabbanes weare errected,” was, I feel certain, this great dwelling place on Cumberland Bay. The heaps of fire stones that I have mentioned could easily have been those made use of by “our wild people” when they “sweated after the maner following:” and where Radisson found himself in “high rushes” the morning after, may have been at the mouth of the Ausable; or of the Lamoille, or of the Ouinooski.[[3]]
III
For some time I have endeavoured to make an annual visit to Fort Ticonderoga and its neighborhood. September, October and November, before the ground freezes, when the lake is usually the lowest, are the best portions of the year for searching there. On the shores between high and low water marks around the Ticonderoga promontory; at Wright’s Point and on the Orwell shore opposite, the earth is black with flints. These are arrow and spear heads, knives, hammer stones and immense quantities of flakes. But few of the implements are perfect. I account for this condition because of the great numbers of soldiers there in the old wars. As you know, it was their practice to select the best arrow and spear heads and break them into pieces suitable for their flintlocks. But the native flint exists in great abundance in the limestone rocks of the locality; and so it was that, for centuries, the Indians resorted to this region, lived there and made weapons and implements for their own use, and for traffic with other savages passing by. I have obtained 2500 chipped stone implements from these shores alone. One November day, 1896, two of us left Plattsburgh by train at 8.30 a. m., reached Fort Ticonderoga at 10.30, picked up 575 wrought flints, and returning, got home at 6.15 the same evening. So, while I have considered that the great dwelling site in Plattsburgh was the most important for the manufacturing of pottery, and probably had the largest population of any village in the valley, yet certainly the Ticonderoga region surpassed it in the making of chipped implements. On this day of which I speak, my companion stopped on Mount Independence, while I pushed over to the Orwell shore, perhaps a hundred rods away. And, by the way, let me say that the historic ruins on Mount Independence are nearly as interesting as those on the Ticonderoga promontory. I could not see the gentleman on the mountain because of the trees, but when I called out to him, not only his reply came to me, but my voice echoed back first, so quickly, so distinctly and with such force as to startle me. It was uncanny.
Turning again to the Jesuit Relations, this time to Volume 51, pages 179–183; in the Relation of 1667–68, written by Francis Mercier, we find an account of the experiences of Fathers Fremin, Pierron and Bruyas, three Jesuits, on the way to the Iroquois country. It was one of these fathers who wrote from Ste. Anne, Isle La Motte, August 12, 1667, the interesting letter, a translation of which was printed in the Burlington Free Press of August 22, 1902.
Father Mercier says: “The Fathers Fremin, Pierron and Bruyas having set out to go to the lower Iroquois—and having been detained for a long time in Fort Sainte Anne at the entrance to Lake Champlain * * * left the fort at last.” Then he quotes from their journal: “About four o’clock in the afternoon we embarked to go and take shelter at a league distance from the last fort of the French—which is that of Sainte Anne * * We gaily crossed this entire great lake, which is already too renowned by reason of the shipwreck of several of our Frenchmen, and, quite recently, by that of Sieur Corlart, commandant of a hamlet of the Dutch near Agnie, who, on his way to Quebec for the purpose of negotiating some important affairs, was drowned while crossing a large bay, where he was surprised by a storm. Arriving within three-quarters of a league of the Falls by which Lake St. Sacrament empties, we all halted without knowing why, until we saw our savages at the water side gathering up flints, which were almost all cut into shape. We did not at that time reflect upon this, but have since learned the meaning of the mystery, for our Iroquois told us that they never fail to halt at this place to pay homage to a race of invisible men who dwell there at the bottom of the lake. These beings occupy themselves in preparing flints, nearly all cut, for the passers by, provided the latter pay their respects to them by giving them tobacco. If they give these beings much of it, the latter give them a liberal supply of these stones. These water men travel in canoes, as do the Iroquois; and when their great captain proceeds to throw himself into the water to enter his palace, he makes so loud a noise that he fills with fear the minds of these who have no knowledge of this great spirit and of these little men. * * * The occasion of this ridiculous story is the fact that the lake in reality is often agitated by very frightful tempests, which cause fearful waves, and when the wind comes from the direction of the lake, it drives on the beach quantities of stones which are hard, and capable of striking fire.”
Now, this place where the fathers “sheltered themselves at a league’s distance” from Fort Sainte Anne, may have been Cumberland Head. The bay in which “Sieur Corlart” was drowned has been considered to be Willsborough Bay. Allow me to state that Arendt Van Corlaer (“Sieur Corlart”) came to his death in this very year, 1667, in which these Jesuits saw the savages at the water side gathering up flints. So the Indians 235 years ago had an established custom of picking up flint implements around Ticonderoga; the same practice that I have indulged in, perhaps quite as successfully without having to offer tobacco to a race of invisible men; and the “loud noises” which their “great captain” made when he proceeded to throw himself into the water to enter his palace and “which filled with fear the minds of those who have no knowledge of this Great Spirit and of these little men,” may have been an echo, like that marvelous one which came back to me from Mount Independence, on that November day, so loud and distinct as to seem uncanny.