The Fur Trade
All hail the mighty beaver! Canada’s largest rodent and furriest national icon!
It might have been a passage to China that first brought Europeans to Canada. And it might
have been the codfish and whales that brought them back. But it was the beaver that gave
them a reason to stay. Beaver-felt hats were all the rage in Europe: The underpelts were
warm and water-resistant and could be made into exceptionally fine felt. The Europeans had
long since trapped their own beavers pretty well to extinction, so the hat-makers turned their
eyes to Canada.
Aside from the obvious financial bonanza it created, the fur trade had an immense impact on
the development of Canada in two important ways:
• Furs with thicker underpelts naturally came from colder climates, and this in turn
drew traders and explorers into the north and the west. The interior of Canada was
opened up largely in the quest for furs.
• Unlike the fisheries, the fur trade was heavily dependent on Native suppliers. It
brought the First Nations and the early colonists into a tight market relationship, on
that initially favoured the Natives but which would later turn against them.
Other animals were trapped as well – marten, otter, mink, fox and wolf – but it was the
beaver that was central to the entire economy. Indeed, beaver pelts were used as a standard
of currency, with the value of any given trade item estimated by the number of prime pelts it
was worth. It’s no exaggeration when historians state that the real founder of New France
(and Canada) was the all-mighty beaver: a buck-toothed, web-toed water rat, but still a
proud national icon.
Coureurs de bois and Voyageurs
To encourage trade and to scope out the neighbourhood, Champlain began sending out men
to live among their Native allies, to learn their language and customs and to become familiar
with the lay of the land. Champlain, ever the mapmaker, wanted to chart the geography of
the fur trade, and the adventurers he sent out, later called coureurs de bois, “runners of the
woods,” played an important role in this. They also helped bridge the gap between Native
and Canadien societies.
The coureurs de bois were the forerunners of the French voyageuers, or “travellers”, who
would paddle deep into the continent each year in flotillas of canoes to collect furs. The
“original coureur de bois” was Étienne Brûlé, who spent 20 years among the Huron and
whose life reads like an adventure novel. When Champlain arrived in Huronia, Brûlé had
already spent five years there and was on hand to greet him. Brûlé acted as an interpreter,
cartographer, diplomat, and spy. He even died in a suitably dramatic fashion, in an incident
shrouded by mystery, apparently assassinated by the Huron when he attempted to negotiate
a trade deal that would have bypassed them.
The French originally had a free rein in the northern fur trade, but in 1670 that would change
forever when the English entered the scene in a big, big way. The struggle between the two
countries would reach new rollicking heights.
A Northern Shortcut
Look at the map of Canada above – you may notice something interesting: the St. Lawrence
River is not the only water route into the interior. Instead of paddling upriver in birchbark
canoes, making gruelling portages and fighting white-water rapids, why not take a shortcut
around the northern tip of Quebec and into the Hudson Bay? That way, you could send in
huge ocean-going vessels and simply load up on furs. Even better, you could deal directly
with the Cree trappers of the north and cut out the middlemen entirely. Brilliant, no?
Voyage of the Nonsuch
Two coureurs de bois, Pierre-Esprit Radisson and Médard Chouart des Groseilliers, proposed
just such a scheme. It was cunning. It was bold. It was brash. And it was of absolutely no
interest to the French court. Nor did the merchants of Montréal have any intention of being
bypassed in such a flagrant way. So, with a shrug and a sigh, Radisson and Groseilliers went
over to the English. (The two countries were technically at peace at that time, but it was still
considered something of a betrayal.)
In 1668, an English consortium agreed to fund an expedition to the “great inland sea.” Two
ships set out, the Eaglet with Radisson on board, and the Nonsuch with Groseilliers. The
Eaglet was forced to turn back, but the Nonsuch made it through. The traders built a
makeshift post at the bottom of James Bay, and word soon got out. In the spring, some 300
Cree suppliers arrived and Groseilliers did a brisk trade, returning to London in 1669 with a
cargo of beaver pelts in the hold. The expedition was a resounding success. Radisson and
Groseilliers had been right on the money.
Or had they? Canadian history books have long given credit to these two audacious FrenchCanadian woodsmen for discovering and promoting this northern trade route. But were they
really taking the initiative, or were they simply reacting to leads given to them by the
northern Indians? In Canada’s First Nations, historian Olive Dickason argues persuasively that
the role played by Radisson and Groseilliers has been greatly inflated. With the collapse of
the Huron Confederacy and the turmoil along the waterways, Dickason insists that it was the
Cree who first proposed the Hudson Bay route. Radisson and Groseilliers simply reacted.
The Hudson’s Bay Company
The voyage of the Nonsuch changed the course of North American history forever. Within
days of Groseilliers’ triumphant return to London, investors were lined up and a Royal Charter
was issued for a “Company of Adventurers” who were given exclusive trading rights over the
lands that drained into the Hudson Bay. It
was a vast area, most of it uncharted, and
the company was made “true and
absolute Lordes and Proprietors.” Equally
important, King Charles proclaimed that
“Henceforth all Gentlemen’s hats shall be
fashioned of beaverskins.”
This great basin, dubbed Rupert’s Land
(after Prince Rupert, the company’s first
governor), covered almost 40 percent of
Canada’s present territory. This territory
was later expanded over the Rockies, all
the way to the Pacific, and north to the
Arctic.
At the peak of its expansion [the Hudson’s Bay Company] controlled nearly three
million square miles of territory – nearly a twelfth of the earth’s land surface and an
area ten times that of the Holy Roman Empire at its height
.
– popular historian Peter C. Newman
Founded in 1670, and still with us today (though no longer trading in furs), the Hudson’s Bay
Company is probably the oldest commercial enterprise in existence – anywhere.
The story of the HBC is one of remarkable resilience, adaptability, and historical continuity –
from the fur trade to retail department stores. When it was founded in 1670, the HBC had 14
employees and owned 39 percent of Canada. Today, it has 20,000 employees and owns
0.0017 percent of Canada.
Company of the North
The competition was heating up. The Hudson Bay shortcut allowed the English to outflank
the French in the north and deal directly with the Cree. At first, the French traders responded
by making the gruelling overland canoe trek north to James Bay to intercept Native canoes
en route to doing business with the English. But by 1682, the HBC was operating no fewer
than five separate trading posts along Hudson and James Bays. Flotillas of Cree canoes
arrived in the spring, weighted down with furs, and a great deal of trade was now being
diverted from the French. It is, however, important to note that this increased competition
was good for the First Nations. They didn’t have to travel as far and they could bargain
harder and obtain better prices for their furs.
With a resolve borne of desperation, the Montréal merchants went on the offensive. In 1682,
they banded together to form the Company of the North (Compagnie du Nord) and in 1686
they decided to strike at the very heart of the English operation.
North America’s First Commando Raid
Under the leadership of the brilliant tactician Pierre de Troyes, a strike force of fast-running
voyageurs and trained military officers left Montréal heading upriver towards the HBC forts on
James Bay.
De Troyes wanted to hit the English from behind before their supply ships arrived in the
spring, which meant leaving before the snows had completely melted. It was a punishing, 12week trek up along the Ottawa River and then down through uncharted lands, over countless
portages and across rugged, dangerous terrain. By the time they reached James Bay the men
were exhausted and malnourished. Just getting there had been an achievement. They would
now have to fight as well. De Troyes immediately began plans to capture three of the HBC’s
forts.
Described as North America’s “first commando raid,” De Troyes’ strike force caught the
English completely by surprise. In one case, they were literally in their nightshirts and without
sentries posted. The voyageurs, travelling in birchbark canoes, hadn’t been able to carry any
heavy artillery with them, so De Troyes used captured English weapons – and even one of
their own ships – against them. The French scaled palisade walls, they knocked down six-inch
gates with battering rams, they battled with muskets and sabres, and, in the end, they
captured all three forts.
By the time the last of the James Bay forts fell, De Troyes and his men were in ragged repair,
half-starved and desperate, but the English never knew this. In a truce meeting with their
governor, De Troyes neatly bluffed his way to victory. When the English governor toasted the
French king with a glass of wine during peace talks, De Troyes took a sip and said, with a
sniff, that he had much better wine back at his camp and invited the Englishman to join him
there for a drink. The governor declined, which is just as well; De Troyes had no wine (and
indeed, very little food or ammunition either).
It should be noted that the De Troyes expedition had another objective as well: to arrest any
coureurs de bois they discovered along the way who were working for the English. At the top
of their “most wanted” list? Our old friend Pierre Radisson, who was now wanted by the
French on charges of treason. Radisson was a man of, how shall I say, “fluid” loyalties.
Having delivered Hudson Bay to the English, he was granted a pardon by France, only to go
back to the English again when he found himself being taxed out of profits. Radisson had
gone from France to England to France, and then back again to England, playing one side off
the other.
You take the river, I’ll take the bay
The De Troyes expedition, was a brilliant success. Although outnumbered and outgunned, the
small band of voyageurs and officers managed to capture three heavily fortified trading posts,
effectively giving France control of the lower Hudson and James Bays. It also marked the
beginning of a long tug-of-war for the control of the northern fur trade, as forts changed
hands back and forth. The nature of the coming French/English showdown was becoming
clear: The English would focus on the Hudson Bay, Newfoundland, and the mid-Atlantic
seacoast; France would hold the St. Lawrence River, the Great Lakes, and Acadia. (No one
bothered to consult the First Nations about any of this.)
French and English Territory – Who’s Where?