Three Voyages of Jacques Cartier
Were it not for a fierce storm, and a chance meeting with a group of St. Lawrence Iroquois far from home, Breton explorer and master mariner Jacques Cartier may never have entered the St. Lawrence River.

During his first voyage of exploration to Canada in 1534, funded by a French monarch looking for a shortcut to the wealth of the Orient, Cartier and 60 sailors had confined their explorations to Newfoundland, the Magdalen Islands and the north shore of Prince Edward Island. But at the head of the Bay of Chaleur, stormy weather drove the French ships north around the Gaspé Peninsula into the Gulf of St. Lawrence, where they encountered a fishing party from Stadacona, 700 kilometres up the St. Lawrence River.

Cartier came ashore and claimed the territory with a large cross, a fleur-de-lys, and the words "Vive Le Roi de France," under the disapproving eye of Donnacona, chief of the Stadacona Iroquois. Donnacona's two sons were taken aboard the French ships, and Cartier began to investigate their claims of a great river to the west. But with winter approaching, the French departed for home, taking with them the two Iroquois brothers.

Onward to Hochelaga: Encouraged by the boys' tales of immense Saguenay riches, Cartier returned to the St. Lawrence in 1535, with 3 ships and a renewed determination to find the northern passage. Penetrating far beyond the western edge of his first voyage, he passed the mouth of the Saguenay, the hazelnut groves of Iles-aux-Courdes, and eventually reunited the teenage Iroquoians with their family at Ile d'Orleans. After anchoring his 2 largest ships in the sheltered junction of the Lairet and Saint-Charles River, near the site of present-day Quebec City, Cartier set out to explore the surrounding countryside.

The Stadacona residents, anxious to maintain a monopoly on trade with the Europeans, tried to discourage Cartier from travelling further inland. Undeterred by their terrifying tales of dangerous, devilish Hochelagan natives, Cartier and about 3 dozen of his men sailed upriver by ship and longboat to the bustling agricultural village known as Tutonaguy.

Blocked Passage: In spite of a warm welcome by a population of about 2,000 Hochelagan farmers, Cartier's enthusiasm began to wane. From the summit of the mountain that now dominates the modern metropolis of Montreal, Cartier was disappointed to see that the river beyond was blocked by rapids, and that land, not a northern passage, stretched endlessly to the north, south and west.

Cartier's party returned to Stadacona for the winter, where his sailors were soon afflicted with the swollen limbs and rotted gums of scurvy. Twenty-five men died, and the rest were saved only by the intervention of the Iroquois women, who fed them a vitamin-rich, medicinal tea made from the bark and twigs of the Eastern White Cedar.

By winter's end, relations between the French and the Stadaconans had soured. Cartier, worried about an impending attack, kidnapped Donnacona, his sons, and several other village inhabitants, and returned to France.

Worn Out Welcome: Although Donnacona lived long enough in France to taunt the King with embellished tales about lands of spices and precious gems, none of Cartier's second group of captives ever made it back to Canada. All but one had died by the time Cartier made his final voyage in 1541. Although Cartier travelled as far upriver as the Lachine Rapids at Hochelaga, erecting a rudimentary fort (Charlesbourg-Royal) near Stadacona, and even planting a small garden, he no longer enjoyed the trust of the St. Lawrence Valley inhabitants. His trade mission was a failure, the passage to China seemed more remote than ever, and when he finally met his St. Lawrence-bound sponsor, the Sieur de Roberval, in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, he could not be convinced to turn back up the hostile river.

Samuel de Champlain: Father of the Fur Trade
Some men, said Samuel de Champlain, 17th century explorer and adventurer, aim for gain, some for glory, and some for the common good. But the greater number, he shrewdly observed, are "engaged in trade."

Cultural Immersion: Ever a pragmatist, Champlain had no illusions about his reasons for following in Jacques Cartier's footsteps: furs were his ticket to the territory of New France, and furs were the foundation of the St. Lawrence River colony and trading post that would one day evolve into Quebec City, heart of francophone North America. Unlike the haughty and imperious Cartier, Champlain recognized that the key to commercial success in Canada was to adopt the ways of people who lived there for centuries. Birchbark canoes and practical snowshoes became part of his standard gear, and respectful, strategic alliances with First Nations tribes gave him access to the resource-rich interior.

Champlain made the first of an eventual 23 voyages from France to Canada with a fur trader bound for the trading post of Tadoussac, in 1603. He returned in 1604 with yet another trading sponsor, searching the Atlantic coast for the elusive northern passage.

Founding of Quebec: In 1608, when Champlain and his commercial partner, Pontgravé, discovered that Basque traders had already acquired the seasons' furs at Tadoussac, they continued upstream to the site of the former village of Stadacona. Here, he built the small post that would eventually become Quebec City. When scurvy struck that winter, as it had in Cartier's time, 70 years before, there were no knowledgeable Iroquoians to provide the life-saving cedar tea. Twenty of 28 men died, but unlike Cartier, Champlain persevered.

With his tiny group of survivors, Champlain agreed to join the warring Wendat in their impending battle with the Iroquoians. For years, until the defeat of the Huronians by the Iroquois in 1648, European firepower kept the Iroquoians at bay. In return, the grateful aboriginals opened river doorways to the north and west that led to 250 years of trade and wealth.

The Mystery of the Disappearing Iroquois
When Samuel de Champlain made his way through the St. Lawrence Valley in 1603, just 70 years after Jacques Cartier's pioneering voyages of the early 1500's, the Iroquoians who had lived in the regions of Hochelaga (Montreal) and Stadacona (Quebec City) had vanished. Archaeological evidence suggests that inter-tribal warfare may have led the Hochelagans to join the Hurons, further west, and the Stadaconans to take refuge with the Montagnais (Innu) of the Saguenay or the Abenaki of the Kennebec River valley in Maine. The introduction of European diseases may also have played a role, but the disappearance of the St. Lawrence Iroquois remains an unresolved mystery.

Prior to their dispersal, the St. Lawrence Iroquoians had occupied territory that extended from the mouth of Lake Ontario all the way to the St. Lawrence estuary. The Stadaconans are thought to have been part of the most easterly of 4 distinct Iroquoian populations, inhabiting what Cartier called the "province of Canada," More than any other of their neighbours, they relied on the marine riches of the lower river, hunting harp seals, harbour seals, beluga whales, and harvesting mackerel, sea sturgeon and softshell clams. Entire villages, including women and children, would make the seasonal trip downriver to summer hunting camps, travelling as far away from their Stadacona home as the Strait of Belle Isle.

Like the Hochelagans, however, the Stadaconans were accomplished farmers. Having planted their spring crops of corn, squash and beans, the roaming hunters would return each fall to their riverside longhouses to harvest the summer's bounty.

Misery at Grosse Île
Relief at last! For the starving, sickened 19th century survivors of hellish 60-day voyages across the Atlantic Ocean, from Liverpool or Limerick, the leafy, looming shores of the upper St. Lawrence River would have promised welcome respite from desperate and deadly shipboard conditions.

But in 1847, as 100,000 Irish immigrants fled the Great Potato Famine for Canada, safe arrival in Quebec did not guarantee them instant freedom. With a raging typhus ("ship's fever") epidemic stretching the meagre resources of the Gross Île quarantine station, located in the middle of the St. Lawrence River near Quebec City, many passengers awaiting medical inspection could not disembark for days. Vessels normally quarantined for an average of 6 days were forced to remain as many as 20 days at the island.

Overwhelmed: The beleaguered quarantine station was ill-equipped to deal with the waves of Irish immigrants that poured into Quebec during the height of the potato famine. Although the Grosse Île facility had been dealing with infectious diseases since its hasty, haphazard establishment in 1832 - at the peak of the second European cholera pandemic - its staff was not prepared to process so many sick arrivals. Its hospital and quarantine quarters had room for only 1,000 people, supplies were limited, and the principles of controlling and treating infectious diseases through disinfection and separation were poorly understood.

As ship upon ship dropped anchor at the island, bearing ever more sickness and disease, Grosse Île became an island of misery and death. Over 3,000 people died on land; another 2,000 died in ships anchored offshore. In that year, a total of 5,424 people were buried at the quarantine station, in long trenches that served as mass graves.

Thousands more unfortunate immigrants survived the crossing and the quarantine only to succumb to typhus and other diseases on their way further upriver. Many expired in Montreal. Today, all along the upper St. Lawrence, through western Quebec and eastern Ontario, churchyards are filled with the graves of those who finally reached Canadian soil, only to be quickly buried in it.

Sick to the East, Healthy to the West: Following the typhus tragedy at Grosse Île, the Canadian government took steps to prevent further catastrophe on the island. Modern principles of disease control were introduced, including aggressive disinfection of ships and luggage, onboard vaccination, and the strictly enforced separation of the healthy from the ill. The sick were confined to the east section of the station, while the healthy were accommodated in the west. In the late 1860's, following Canadian Confederation, the modernization efforts of eminent bacteriologist Dr. Frederick Montizambert prepared Grosse Île for the successful processing of thousands of newcomers throughout the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

With the lessening of immigration in the Great Depression, and the advancement of vaccination programs and municipal hospitals, the quarantine station was no longer necessary. It closed in 1937.

The Lachine Canal: Forerunner of the St. Lawrence Seaway
As the fur trade boomed, and United Empire Loyalists poured into the upper regions of the St. Lawrence River and Lake Ontario, the growing business and industrial community of Montreal became increasingly frustrated with the obstacle presented by the great Lachine Rapids above Lac Saint-Louis. When the Americans proceeded with their plan to build the Erie Canal in New York State, threatening to divert Great Lakes trade to the port of New York, the merchants of Montreal banded together to construct the first Lachine Canal.

Instant Success: The waterway opened in 1825, with 7 locks that stretched along the 14 kilometres that separated the port of Montreal from Lac Saint-Louis. The canal was a runaway success, but it accommodated only small ships. In 1848, with the amalgamation of the provinces of Upper and Lower Canada (Ontario and Quebec), the British government launched a major canalization program between Montreal and Lake Erie. The Lachine Canal was widened, and the number of locks reduced to 5.

Limited Lifespan: The canal was enlarged one more time following Canadian Confederation, in 1884. But when pressure mounted once again in the 20th century to allow the passage of increasingly larger ships, the Canal had nowhere to go. Densely-packed industrial sites, filled with flour mills, sawmills, shipyards, sugar refineries, tool manufacturers and hundreds of other factories and warehouses had grown up around the shipping lane and hydroelectric source that had been created by the Lachine Canal. By the 1950's, Montreal's workhorse waterway was forced to give way to the St. Lawrence Seaway on the south shore of the river.