LITMIR.BIZ

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In the ensuing struggle, the CPR employed strike breakers, hired special police to guard its property, and had auxiliary police sworn in by cooperative police magistrates in almost every major centre the company served. On March 21, 1892, Van Horne and Thomas Shaughnessy — now vice-president of the CPR — raised the ante still further. They ordered company officials to administer a loyalty oath to workers in the CPR’s Eastern Division. This demand decided the issue for the men in northern Ontario, who, despite having no previous grievances against the company, voted to go out on strike. As a result, Van Horne and other CPR officials awoke on March 22 to the news that another seven hundred and fifty-two miles of track had been tied up. Faced with this setback, the company capitulated. On March 23, Van Horne ratified an agreement that represented an outstanding victory for the unionists. He had reluctantly, but pragmatically, concluded that further resistance would be drawn out and costly.

      Van Horne was in the prime of life in 1894. Fifty-one years of age, he had put on weight over the years. The stocky body of youth had yielded to spreading girth, the result of too many hours at his desk, lack of exercise, and a gargantuan appetite. The receding hairline had long since been replaced by a bald pate, and his clipped beard was now flecked with grey. In fact, he bore a striking resemblance to the third Marquis of Salisbury, who was then Britain’s prime minister.

      Notwithstanding the signs of middle age, Van Horne continued to be a high-voltage dynamo, driven by ambition and determination. He still toiled incredibly long hours, whether at his desk or rushing across the continent. But his body, which he had abused so often, had begun to register the occasional protest. In 1894 he experienced the first of them — a prolonged attack of bronchitis that threatened to take up “permanent quarters” if he did not escape to a warmer climate. In the hope of regaining his health, Van Horne left Montreal on December 5 for England and the Continent. He planned to be away for five or six weeks.

      During his brief sojourn in England, he visited his friend Robert Horne-Payne, a financial genius who was frequently called upon to handle loans for Canadian railways. Before leaving rain-soaked London for the Continent, Van Horne also met with his old colleague and friend George Stephen. Unfortunately, the former CPR president was worried by this meeting, and he later wrote an alarming letter to Shaughnessy:

      It is quite evident that Sir William, either from failing health or from allowing other things to occupy his mind, is no longer able to give the affairs of the company his undivided attention. His want of grasp and knowledge of the true position of the Company was, painfully, twice shown at our conference on Tuesday last, and can only be explained on the assumption that he had never given his mind to the matter…. His actions gave me the impression that he felt like a man who knew he was in a mess and had not the usual courage to look his position in the face. His apparent indifference and inability to realize the gravity of the position I can account for in no other way.

      From what I have thus said, you will see that all my confidence in the ability of Sir William to save the Company has gone, and it is to you alone that I look, if disaster is to be avoided.

      In Paris, the weather may have been raw and wet, but at least Van Horne could visit the Louvre, hobnob with art dealers, and dine with friends at the famous restaurant Joseph’s. There, “the most famous cook in the world” attended to him and his party in person. The weather continued to disappoint in Italy. In a desperate search for warmth, Van Horne persevered through a snowstorm to Naples and travelled on to Sorrento, the seaside resort across the bay from Naples. Notwithstanding the bitter cold, Van Horne was so captivated by Sorrento’s picturesque charm that he admitted in a letter to Addie that he liked Italy and its people. “Both are better than I expected,” he wrote.

      Addie, meanwhile, was holding the fort in frigid Montreal. There she had to contend with Governor General Lord Aberdeen and his entourage, who arrived on her doorstep shortly after her husband’s departure for Europe. Although accustomed to orchestrating countless dinners and weekends for all manner of guests, Addie at times rebelled openly against the role of dutiful wife. And this was one such occasion. In a letter to Van Horne, she let her pent-up frustration boil over. “I am sorry that you could not see more of London. How I wish you could go once & not be obliged to meet ‘High Commissioners’ & others on business. Let us plan to enjoy life a little before we get too old or infirm. We are always waiting on other people & I am tired of it.”

      In May 1894, Lord Aberdeen informed Van Horne that an honorary knighthood could be his for the taking — the third time he had been offered this honour. Previously, in 1891 and 1892, he had turned down Queen Victoria’s proposal. Explaining his refusal in 1892, Van Horne told Prime Minister Sir John Abbott that he felt it would be a great mistake for him to accept a knighthood in the near future. He had reached this conclusion after considering several factors, “the chief one being the probability of renewed attacks on the CPR in the United States.” He would not, he said, countenance any honour that might cost the CPR “an ounce of advantage.” Nevertheless, when the offer was made the third time, almost six years after he had become a naturalized British subject, Van Horne accepted it. As a result, the Queen’s birthday list of honours in May 1894 announced his appointment as an Honorary Knight Commander of the order of St. Michael and St. George.

      Van Horne was at first uncomfortable with his new title. Walking to his Windsor Station office on the morning his knighthood was announced, he was repeatedly accosted by friends and acquaintances offering hearty congratulations. When his elderly office attendant, who for years had greeted him with a friendly salute, now made a servile bow and intoned, “Good morning, Sir William!” Van Horne could only mutter, “Oh Hell,” and beat a hasty retreat.

      Not surprisingly, Van Horne’s acceptance of a knighthood buttressed a widely held belief that he had lost all love for his native country, the United States, and had become one of its most intractable opponents. This attitude riled the railway magnate, and he went to great lengths to squelch the idea and make it clear that, when he acted against American interests, it was simply because of his loyalty to the CPR. When the vehemently anti-CPR New York Sun described him as “originally an American but now a fierce Tory hater of all things American,” he dispatched a bristling letter of protest to the editor.

      Canada was still in the grip of the depression when Van Horne returned to Montreal from his Mediterranean vacation in January 1895. Although relieved to be cured of his bronchitis, he felt only dismay and anxiety as he contemplated the trials now confronting him. The economic climate was so grim that, in February, Stephen dispatched a coded cablegram to Van Horne suggesting that the CPR suspend payment on its proposed dividend.

      For some reason — perhaps because he had lost all faith in Van Horne’s management or because he wanted to advance the interests of the Great Northern, with which he was still associated, or for both — Stephen also began advising CPR shareholders to sell their shares. He was joined in undermining confidence in the railway by Thomas Skinner, who was also supposedly a friend of Van Horne. Their comments seemed to support wild rumours that were circulating about certain actions by company directors, and, as a result, CPR shares plummeted to an all-time low. They would have skidded even lower but for some German capitalists, who, advised by Van Horne’s friend Adolph Boissevain, a Dutch financier, purchased a large number of shares. Fortunately, by the fall of 1895, business had recovered. The following year, gross and net earnings had almost returned to their 1892 levels. The CPR had reeled under the weight of hard times, but it had not collapsed. It had weathered the storm and, just as Van Horne had foreseen, would soon return to profitability.

      The return of the CPR to financial prosperity helped to improve Van Horne’s outlook on life. So, surprisingly, did the federal Liberal Party’s accession to power in 1896. Given his past performance, Van Horne might have been expected to intervene directly in this campaign, but he did not. In the 1891 federal campaign, when reciprocity with the United States was the Liberal Party’s central plank, Van Horne had vehemently denounced this policy to end the protection of Canadian industries and introduce free trade. Unrestricted reciprocity would bring “prostration and ruin” to Canada, he wrote to Conservative Senator G.A. Dandurand. Much to Van Horne’s horror, the letter was later printed in the Montreal Gazette. The CPR president considered damage control, but Shaughnessy immediately shot down this suggestion. The company had already been tarred

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