LITMIR.BIZ

      The Van Horne mansion on Sherbrooke Street West in Montreal. Derided by critics for resembling an armoury, it was razed in 1973 despite a furious campaign to save it.

       Courtesyof the Notman Photographic Archives, McCord Museum of Canadian History, Montreal, MPMP-000.2345.4.

      At the time of the move, there were seven people in the Van Horne family: William and Addie; their children, Little Addie and Bennie; Addie’s mother, Mrs. Hurd; and William’s mother and his sister Mary. Mrs. Van Horne senior died in 1885, but the rest of them lived in the Shaughnessy House until April 1892, when they moved to a much larger residence at the foot of Mount Royal. It was a neo-classical stone mansion located on the northeast corner of Sherbrooke and Stanley streets. The house, which was probably built in the 1860s, originally belonged to John Hamilton, a senator and president of the Merchants Bank, who occupied it from 1869 to 1890. Critics said it resembled an armoury, but it suited Van Horne. He wanted a bigger house in which to display his ever-growing collections of art and pottery.

      Van Horne purchased the property in 1890 and immediately set about to alter it so it would provide the additional space he required. To carry out the remodelling, he hired someone whose work he knew and liked. Edward Colonna was best known as a pioneer of art nouveau, the decorative movement featuring long, sinuous curves of vegetal-inspired forms that was regarded in Europe at the time as the “Modern Style.” In the United States, Colonna had worked for Bruce Price, who found a position for him as chief designer for the renowned railway-car builder Barney & Smith Manufacturing Company of Dayton, Ohio. It was there that Colonna probably had his first dealings with Van Horne, who involved himself in the purchase of passenger cars for the CPR. Following his stint with this firm, Colonna stopped off briefly in New York City before heading in 1889 to Montreal. There he opened his own office and renewed his contact with Van Horne, who frequently invited Colonna and his wife, Louise, to meals at the family home. Colonna designed a large portion of the renovation of the Van Horne residence at 917 (later 1139) Sherbrooke Street. In so doing, he provided Canada with a unique example of art-nouveau decoration, and Van Horne with a ground-floor interior that reflected his essentially “modern” taste.

      Montreal, with a population of approximately two hundred and sixty thousand, was by far Canada’s largest city. In terms of financial clout and entrepreneurial spirit, it was the capital of Victorian Canada as well. A century earlier the North West Company had brought wealth and power to the city from the West. Now the Canadian Pacific Railway would do likewise. But this would occur only after the long depression (1873–96) ended and prosperity returned to the United States and Canada. When that happened, in 1897, the city and the province embarked on a period of renewed prosperity and rapid industrialization.

      Montreal’s commercial aristocracy controlled not only the province of Quebec but also two-thirds of Canada’s wealth and the majority of the country’s major corporations. Most of these businessmen lived in the Square Mile, which was then at the peak of its influence. This powerful Anglophone community was British to the core. In slavish imitation of London society, the Square Mile denizens rode to hounds, imported servants from Britain, copied British social mores, and occupied mansions that were surrounded by acres of lawn, orchards, and gardens. Although Sir John A. Macdonald’s National Policy and the building of railways by the Grand Trunk, the Intercolonial, and the Canadian Pacific had helped to create this moneyed class, almost all its members had not been raised in privileged circumstances. The CPR duo Donald Smith and George Stephen were typical: both were from humble origins. Smith was the fourth child of a hard-drinking saddler, and Stephen, his cousin, was the first child of a carpenter who had a large family to support. (Stephen became Lord Mount Stephen in 1897.) Robert Mackay, another Square Mile resident and Van Horne friend, was the son of a crofter. Smith, Stephen, and Mackay were all Scottish born, but even those members of the Square Mile aristocracy not born in Scotland were Scottish to “the marrow of their souls.” No matter what their religion or background, “they knew how to parlay endurance of the spirit into earthly salvation,” according to Canadian journalist and author Peter C. Newman.

      Certainly Van Horne knew how to make the most of his time here on Earth. Nevertheless, the fearless optimism that governed most of his life and his extravagant displays of affection for his family ruled out any claim to his being Scottish. So did his gambling instincts, his delight in high living, and his love of big practical jokes. Like most Victorian men, Van Horne was the authority figure in his family. He controlled the family purse and made all the important decisions, although he did consult Addie from time to time. Unlike many other men in his circle, however, Van Horne doted on his wife and children. The role of remote husband and father was not for him. Perhaps because of his own father’s early death and the straitened circumstances in which he left the young family, Van Horne craved a sense of security. The love of a devoted wife and a closely knit family became all important to him. His extended family and Addie, with her remarkably serene spirit, became indispensable restoratives for his soul, and he worried constantly about their well-being when he was away from them. Still, like many men of his era, when he went to distant places such as Europe or the west coast of the United States, he travelled in the company of other men and left his wife to look after the children and the home.

      In letters to his wife, Van Horne frequently chastised her for being a poor correspondent and fretted about her health. “I am much distressed by your letter of yesterday and as I know you have been and are still seriously ill. I trust that you have not failed to call a doctor,” he wrote Addie in October 1872, just after he had moved from Chicago to St. Louis. “If you have not done so do it at once. You must take no risks nor trifle with your health,” he continued. To drive home the point that his instructions must be obeyed, he added, “I am very busy but am so nervous on your account that I can hardly do anything. Do not fail to let me hear from you every day. Now my Treasure, do not forget that I am anxious about you and that I will be in agony if I do not hear from you and if I do not hear that you have called the doctor.” Unfortunately, there is no indication in this letter or in any subsequent correspondence of the nature of Addie’s illness. Nor are

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