Although satisfied to play the role of the model late-Victorian wife, Addie at times complained about her lot. Similarly, she occasionally resented her husband’s directions. Like so many successful men, Van Horne could be opinionated and dogmatic: he always knew what was best. This superiority could, of course, annoy people, particularly when he proved to be wrong. One day after Addie viewed a display of wedding presents received by a Miss Lonsdale, who married her cousin John Lonsdale Gilman in December 1885, she wrote gleefully to Mary, her sister-in-law:
The presents were many, pretty and useful — I selected a beautiful card receiver — best plate. I showed it to Will who said “No one ever sent plate. I might throw that away.” So I changed it for a pie knife solid only a trifle more & not half as pretty. There were ever so many plated silver articles — There was a coffee & tea service from Mr Gilman’s mother & a pretty silver five o’clock tea set from Mr and Mrs Finlay. I asked Mrs F if the large service was solid. She replied “She thought not hers was not.” So I looked closely at the rest & concluded mine was among the few solid pieces. So I quite enjoyed telling Will he was sometimes mistaken.
Addie was often forced by circumstances to be a gracious hostess — a role expected of the wife of a Square Mile resident, especially someone as prominent as her husband. Because Van Horne, like Lord Strathcona, gloried in it, entertaining was elevated to a high art in the Van Horne home. With strangers and mere acquaintances, and in formal social situations, Van Horne could be cold and austere, if not downright shy. With friends, however, he was genial and gracious. As someone who revelled in the role of courtly host and paterfamilias, he orchestrated countless dinners, Sunday lunches, and overnight visits. While away from home, he would pepper Addie with instructions regarding plans he had for entertaining friends and business associates when he returned. People from all walks of life and occupations figured in his plans: CPR contractors, judges, railway titans, artists, politicians, financiers, industrialists, and writers all enjoyed lavish and warm hospitality at his Sherbrooke Street mansion and at Covenhoven — his beloved New Brunswick estate.
When he was in New Brunswick in the late 1880s to negotiate the lease of the New Brunswick Railway Company to the CPR, Van Horne stopped off in the small resort town of St. Andrews in the southwestern part of the province. He was so struck by the beauty of Passamaquoddy Bay and its islands that he set about acquiring property on Minister’s Island, a five-hundred-acre strip of verdant land located a half-mile offshore and around a point from St. Andrews. Over the next couple of decades he put his diverse talents and still formidable energy to work transforming four hundred acres of the island into a self-sustaining estate — not only a large summer home and sprawling gardens but also an impressive working farm and assorted outbuildings. Until the end of his life, Covenhoven would be Sir William’s refuge, the haven to which he retreated during the summer and the early autumn in search of rest and creative renewal.
Van Horne acquired his Minister’s Island property piecemeal, starting in 1891. That year, he bought one hundred and fifty acres at the most southerly end of the island. Five years later he purchased another two hundred and fifty acres. Addie, after his death, acquired the island’s remaining hundred acres in 1926. Once he had purchased his parcels of land, Sir William set out to design a summer home that he named Covenhoven in salute to his father and his Dutch ancestry. The actual construction began in 1898, but unidentified problems soon arose. Forced to seek assistance, Van Horne turned to a young Montreal architect, Edward Maxwell, who, with his younger brother William, would go on to create one of the most significant architectural practices in Canadian history. As soon as Van Horne issued his call for help, Edward hurried to Minister’s Island to rectify the construction problems. His intervention succeeded and, when Van Horne decided the following year to enlarge the modest dwelling, he called on Edward once more. The end result was a house that, again, was large and bulky like Van Horne himself. Further additions and modifications were undertaken in subsequent years. All were closely supervised by Van Horne, who sometimes found it necessary to drop everything in Montreal and hurry to Minister’s Island to inspect some new construction.
Of all the wings that were added to the main house over the years, the addition that contained his grandson’s nursery was probably the one that most involved Van Horne’s attention. It was in this room that he lovingly painted a joyous mural for small William — Bennie’s son. This room also featured at least one mantel constructed of Dutch picture tiles that Van Horne ordered specially from Montreal.
A partial view of the family home at Covenhoven, the impressive Van Horne estate on Minister’s Island, New Brunswick. Dignitaries from across North America and around the world visited here during the summer months.
Courtesy of Library and Archives Canada, PA21681.
Besides helping to design the original house, Van Horne also turned his attention to planning the farm manager’s house, one of several buildings on the large working farm that he envisaged for Minister’s Island. Without question, the most impressive farm building on the property was the massive barn, which became the centrepiece of the entire operation. Three storeys in height and built on a stone foundation, it had twenty-five windows on the ground floor alone and boasted a kitchen equipped with an elevator that provided access to the upper floors. Two immaculately kept floors housed Van Horne’s prized herd of Dutch belted cattle, so called because of the large white band this breed displays over the shoulders. To Van Horne’s delight, these cattle went on to win many show ribbons, including some from the prestigious Royal Winter Fair in Toronto.
Determined to make Minister’s Island as self-sufficient as possible, Van Horne installed a fresh-water system on the property: a windmill, assisted by kerosene-fired engines, pumped water from an artesian well to the main house through a system of hydrants. He arranged for a supply of gas for lighting and cooking: in an adjoining plant, when carbide pellets were dropped into water, the resulting gas was collected and piped into the family home. He also grew a vegetable garden and raised sheep, cattle, pigs, turkeys, and guinea fowl. In his own inventive way, he was the best of pioneers.
Even when not at Covenhoven, Van Horne immersed himself in myriad details relating to the estate’s operation. His manager consulted him on a wide range of matters, from the castration of a bull to the grading of turnips for sale. In addition to the property manager, the outdoor staff included a head gardener, four assistant gardeners, an assistant stockman, three teamsters, a weir manager, a farm hand, a head field hand, poultry hands, carpenters, plumbers, and painters. Over them all, Van Horne reigned as the ultimate decision maker.
Van Horne always claimed that one of Minister Island’s attractions was its relative inaccessibility from the New Brunswick mainland. Still, he could not be long without the company of stimulating friends, and he loved to show people around his estate. They included leading Canadian and American businessmen, railway barons, Japanese royalty, retired generals, and capable women such as Maud Edgar, the principal of a Montreal girls’ school. Invitations were also extended to lesser mortals too, and Van Horne, the consummate host and teacher, made everyone feel quite special. Visitors arrived by train or yacht on the New Brunswick coast and usually crossed to the island at low tide on the natural gravel bar that links it to the mainland. Once there, they journeyed for half a mile through woodland before emerging on the estate’s expansive grounds. There, waiting for them at the door to the mansion, was their host, who invariably extended the same welcome: “Gentlemen, you may have champagne or milk — the price is the same for both.”
Van Horne was a superb storyteller, although in later years he had a tendency to exaggerate. His newspaper friend, Sir John Willison, described him as a gracious host who talked a lot but was never dull or commonplace: “Decisive in judgment and confident in opinion, his sentences were so picturesque and penetrating that even his rasher statements were seldom challenged.” Although Sunday was a favourite time to entertain, especially in Montreal, William and Addie also entertained on weekdays.
