Copyright, Canada, 1924, by

THE RYERSON PRESS

ILLUSTRATIONS

The Romance of the Canadian

Pacific Railway

THE ROMANCE OF THE

CANADIAN PACIFIC

RAILWAY

CHAPTER I
Famous Forerunners

The fascination for studying the genesis of things that exist seems to be universal. Men have an instinctive and urgent desire to find out how objects that are seen actually originated. Scientists and savages alike, for instance, are still hammering out theories as to the process by which the world was made, though to most of us the most ancient account is adequate. Once I knew an Indian boy on the prairie who was so curious to discover how the figure of a dog appeared at the centre of a large glass “marble” we were playing with, that when I had turned away for a moment, he broke it open with the back of a tomahawk. Similarly, we have known exploring scientists who spent laborious lives in the endeavour to find the sources of a great river.

To be indifferent to the beginnings of things which have become part of our lives, betokens either the calamitous absence of a thinking mind or that horrible satisfaction with present possession which ignores the toil and the tears and the sacrifices of past generations. To persons of such vacant or selfish natures all the explorers and the pioneers—the men whose souls yearned beyond the sky-line of their immediate surroundings—are of no particular account. The untrodden ways which daring pathfinders opened up with adventurous feet are of no consequence to the unthinking who settle comfortably on lands pre-empted by the blood-marked footsteps of the trailmakers.

It is because we are not of the number who are sodden with crass materialism and seared by the branding iron of greed, that we desire to learn the history of the things which minister to our continued existence and comfort in this great new day, the far-off vision of which made glad the brave seers and workers of earlier times.

These thoughts come to me now just as I am riding westward on the public observation car of a Canadian Pacific Railway train, through the great mountains that are piled up on the sunset verge of the Dominion of Canada. The traditional weariness of travel is practically banished by these wheeled palaces, which that living, breathing, throbbing locomotive, under the skilful direction of her driver, draws through passes and tunnels and glorious river canyons down to the Western sea. And I thought of how, in times gone by, that Western Sea had been in the dreams of gallant men who hoped to reach its shores some day. I recalled how noble sea-rovers, like Henry Hudson and Sir John Franklin, had thrown away their lives in the attempt to find a North-west Passage by water across the North American continent, from the Atlantic. And I remembered, too, how Alexander MacKenzie, the fur-trader, starting by trail from near the old Peace River Crossing, had gone over the mountains on foot, and how he wrote on a rock by the Pacific the amazing inscription, “Alexander MacKenzie, from Canada, by land, July 22nd, 1793.” We call that inscription amazing because behind it and flashing through it is the story of an invincible will in heroic action and the record of physical daring unsurpassed in the palmiest days of the athletes and gladiators in Greece and Rome.

Thus did Alexander MacKenzie blaze the trail across the mountains. If the North-west Passage by water had proved a myth, MacKenzie demonstrated the reality of a passage by land which, in the years afterwards, others would follow. Strange, too, it was that in the same year, 1793, Captain George Vancouver, an English sea-rover, dropped the anchor of his wooden, white-winged vessel in the great harbour where there is now a queenly city bearing his name, on the West Coast of Canada.

Little did these adventurous pathfinders who discovered mountain passes and ocean lanes think that, before a century had passed, a group of men with vision and courage would follow the inspiring example of the explorers by land and sea, and achieve not only the crossing of a continent, but the girdling of the earth in a magnificent transportation system. Yet despite the gloomy prophecies of failure uttered by sceptics who declared that the thing could not be done, the Canadian Pacific Railway has driven its iron horses through the mountains to stand by the Western Sea. And from the land terminals, East and West, this unique organization has set its vessels on the tides of all the oceans of the world, as well as upon the gentler waters of our inland seas.

There were many weighty reasons for the building of this railway and the launching of its great ships, as well as highly important considerations which demand its continued efficiency in our times. Let us study them together in this book, which, as an eye witness of the genesis and development of the railway, though never at any time connected with it, I have written and published independently, as a humble contribution to our history as a British Dominion. Like my preceding books, it is sent out because generations arise which ought to know with what hazard and struggle on the part of the pioneers the foundations of Canada were laid.

The name of the Canadian Pacific Railway Company fixes in our minds the original objects of the road. The Railway was particularly the outcome of a new national consciousness in Canada, arising out of Confederation, and it was designed with the special idea of knitting the older parts of Canada in the East with the newer provinces and territories which were growing up in the wide West, and which would some day form an integral part of a Dominion whose Western border would rest on the Pacific tide. “Westward the star of empire takes its way” is a saying which has found historical support in the descent of the centuries from the immemorial East, which is now a graveyard of ancient kingdoms. And once the prows of exploring vessels struck the Eastern shores of this new continent of America, there were unresting souls that pressed onward throughout the years till they reached the pillars of the sunset beside the alluring Western sea.

In those earlier years Spain was a great sea-going nation and the West Coast map of the United States is dotted all over with Spanish nomenclature. This is found also to some degree on the long coastline of what is now British Columbia, though in this latter region the British element was always more pronounced owing to the British blood of the early explorers, both by sea and land, and to the passionate patriotism of British-born men who were in the employ of the great fur-trading organizations. In this connection it is interesting to recall the origin of the name British Columbia. The territory now covered by the province consisted originally of Vancouver Island and other islands and the mountain mainland, at one time known as New Caledonia. It was good Queen Victoria who gave the name of British Columbia to the great mainland area, and this name was later extended to include Vancouver Island when both were united in one colony in 1866. The Queen wrote in 1858 to Sir E. Bulwer Lytton, statesman and novelist too, that the only name she found on the map of the mainland common to the whole area was Columbia, but as there was a Columbia in South America and as the United States people called their country Columbia, at least in poetry, the Queen thought that British Columbia would be the most suitable name. And British Columbia it remains to this day, proud to have been named by our noble Queen and to have sprung from so illustrious an ancestry. Later on, British Columbia, as we shall see, proved magnetic enough to draw the steel of the great railway across the continent to the Western Ocean.

On the general subject, it may be well to remind our readers that a railway with its locomotive steam engine is a comparatively modern arrangement for travel, although trucks of various kinds were wheeled on tracks in the coal mining regions of England two centuries ago. But George Stephenson, rugged old Scot, with his primitive engine, the “Rocket,” began as late as 1829, a revolution in modes of travel. There lived in Manitoba, some years ago, an old railroader, Charles Whitehead, Senior, who was said to have taken a hand in making the “Rocket” go. Stephenson’s invention was not a flash in the pan, or, to change the figure, it did not “go up like a rocket and come down like a stick.” It stayed, and not only won the prize of £500 for a steam engine that would actually run and draw, but it became the fruitful progenitor of the moguls and other colossal “fire-wagons” which rush to and fro on a gridironed earth in our time. Of course, Stephenson, like all other originators of new means of transport since the days of Noah, had to bear the sneers and jocularities of the idle crowd. Some one asked him what would happen if a cow got on the track, just as Nehemiah’s enemies suggested disaster to his wall if a fox ran upon it. But the grim old Scot only replied that it “would be bad for the coo,” and went on to perfect his engine. Hence came the graceful iron horses which, with steaming breath, race along the steel trails in all countries in our time.

Canada had not begun as a Confederation when the first prophecy—an astonishing foretelling—of the Canadian Pacific Railway was made by Joseph Howe, in Halifax, in 1851. Canada was then simply the old Central Provinces of Ontario and Quebec. Down by the Atlantic, Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia and New Brunswick were, in a sense, isolated British possessions, which in many ways were in closer touch with the United States on the Atlantic than with the Canada of that day. Joseph Howe had been to London and received assurances that the Intercolonial Railway would be built to link up the Atlantic Maritime areas with Quebec and Ontario. But Joseph Howe, orator, poet and statesman, saw beyond that limited plan, and in his address in Halifax in 1851 outlined in his own masterly way the future of British North America and its immensely important possibilities. We quote a passage of this remarkable address as follows:

“With such a territory as this to overrun, organize and improve, think you that we shall stop at the Western bounds of Canada? Or even at the shores of the Pacific? Vancouver Island, with its vast coal measures, lies beyond. The beautiful islands of the Pacific and the growing commerce of the ocean are beyond. Populous China and the rich East are beyond; and the sails of our children’s children will reflect as familiarly the sunbeams of the South as they now brave the angry tempests of the North. The Maritime Provinces which I now address are but the Atlantic frontage of this boundless and prolific region. God has planted Nova Scotia in the front of this boundless region—see that you discharge, with energy and elevation of soul, the duties which devolve upon you in virtue of your position. Hitherto, my countrymen, you have dealt with this subject in a becoming spirit, and, whatever others may think or apprehend, I know that you will persevere in that spirit until our objects are attained. I am neither a prophet nor the son of a prophet, but I believe that many in this room will live to hear the whistle of the steam engine in the passes of the Rocky Mountains and to make the journey from Halifax to the Pacific in five or six days.”

To some who heard this remarkable appeal and forecast it may have sounded like the effort of a rhetorician. In reality it was the deliberate and well-grounded hope of a man who was a life-long student of public affairs, who had all the passion of a patriot and the fervor of a seer, and who desired to see a great British North America in unified devotion to the ideals of the British people. The fact that Joseph Howe, in later years, differed from others as to whether this Federation should be brought about without a plebiscite of the people of Nova Scotia, does not in any way detract from the extraordinary fact that in 1851 he prophesied a transcontinental railway, which even in 1871 some prominent public men denounced as a mad and impossible undertaking. One has to confess that, even twenty years after Howe’s prophecy, the thing did look impossible; but not only has the apparently impossible project of a railroad from ocean to ocean been accomplished, but that trans-continental has become part of a world-encircling transportation system which is a marvel of efficiency. The Canadian Pacific Railway not only welded together the scattered areas under the flag on the North American Continent, but it has taken its place as an organization of Imperial significance and value in peace and war, as many events have proven. How and by whom this modern wonder-work has been done it is our hope and purpose to make known in some imperfect, but earnest, way in the chapters that follow.

Though planned in the East, where statesmen and financiers were facing the problems of the New Dominion, it was in the wide West-land that the need of this transcontinental railway was most manifest, and it was in the West that the road first appeared. Hence we must study enough of the history of the West to see the stage set for the entry of the steel trail. Or, to put this in another way, we should find how the West had developed so as to successfully challenge the attention of Eastern statesmen and effectively call for a large Federal expenditure, in order that it might become linked up with the already developed East for the welfare of the whole Dominion. With this in view we shall, in the next chapter, meet those who, before the coming of the railway, began to make for the West a place on the map of history.

CHAPTER II
The Approach to a Big Task

Salvaged from a “Highland Clearance” in the North of Scotland, and brought out to the Red River country in 1812, a colony of Scottish crofters settling midway across British America became the corner-stone of the stately edifice now known as Western Canada. These people were brought out after a harsh landlordism had displaced them from their tenant farms and replaced them by sheep, as more remunerative occupants of the strath. The plight of these evicted tenants, whose humble homes were burned to bar their return, excited the compassionate attention of that gentle, but heroic, nobleman, the Earl of Selkirk, and he, obtaining a controlling interest in the Hudson’s Bay Company, brought them to the Red River and placed them on land there. Lord Selkirk’s name liveth for evermore, not only because his friend, Sir Walter Scott, wrote that he never knew a man more fitted for high-souled undertakings, but because the colony he then planted was destined to prove to the world that the West was a land worth possessing as an illimitable area which would some day be the granary of the Empire. Moreover, those early settlers laid foundations for the future in religion and education. They builded churches and they erected schools. They were of that strong creed which believed that without moral sanctions and intelligence no country’s business future could be secure. With these elements in a community, prosperity will be fostered and of such a country great hopes will be entertained.—

“It dreads no sceptic’s puny hands

While near the school the church-spire stands;

Nor fears the blinded bigot’s rule

While near the church-spire stands the school.”

The steady progress of that old colony on the Red River and the somewhat hectic development of British Columbia, the latter not through colonization so much as by gold rushes and trade exploitations, were the leading factors in drawing the attention of Eastern statesmen to the enormous possibilities of the West. In consequence the Canada that was formed by the four old provinces in the East felt that the wide West-land must also be brought into the Dominion that was to stretch from sea to sea.

As one born in that old Selkirk Colony, where my father was one of the original settlers, I confess to finding some amusement in the theories of later arrivals as to the opening up of the West. Some, for instance, allege that the Hudson’s Bay Company had kept the West closed against colonization and gave out the impression that the country was not fit for agriculture. In refutation of that charge we have the fact that it was the Hudson’s Bay Company that founded the first colony and protected it through all the difficult years till it demonstrated that the country was worth while. And it was the Hudson’s Bay men at posts all over the vast North-west who cultivated plots around their posts and sent to scientific schools evidences of the country’s fertility. It matters not that Sir George Simpson, or some other individual man of the old company, said that the prairie country was exposed to dangers as to grain crops. In our own day people in Eastern Canada said the same thing and commiserated their friends who left Ontario to settle in what they called “hyper-borean regions.” The real fact is that settlers would not come into the country until some railway communication was assured, and no lesser force than that of Confederation in Canada could undertake to build a railway into the West. Until that was done the country was closed by an isolation which could not be remedied except as indicated above. Few people would care to face the hardships and sufferings of the Selkirk colonists, who were nearly ten years in the country before they got enough from the soil to furnish subsistence. But they, as stated already, endured till they demonstrated the value of the country. And when the statesmen who saw and understood, conceived the plan of the Canadian Pacific Railway to traverse and develop the West I feel that a new glory was shed on the work of the old pioneers. I am glad to remember that my father, one of the last survivors of that early colony, lived long enough to see the iron horses pass the Red River on the steel trail to the Pacific across the plains where he had seen the buffalo roaming, and on over the mountains where some of his intimate friends, like Robert Campbell, of the Yukon, had gone on their great explorations. These early settlers had done their part, and rejoiced to know that others were making real the things of which they, in the pioneer days, had so daringly dreamed.

A quite extraordinary linking up of events makes it possible for us to say that, historically, the old Red River colony was not only by its demonstration of the value of the West a procuring cause of the building of the Canadian Pacific Railway, but that the old colony was the means of bringing into special prominence, and enthusiasm for the West, the famous engineer, Sandford Fleming, who directed all the preliminary surveys for this pioneer trans-continental road.

It happened on this wise. Fleming’s interest in the problem of transportation was known to Mr. James Ross and Mr. William Coldwell, both of whom I remember as publishers of the Nor’Wester, the first paper in the Red River colony. These newspapermen had large influence locally, and got the colonists interested in making an application to the Imperial and Colonial Governments for a roadway from the Eastern Provinces to the Red River and on to the Rocky Mountains. The idea was to have a through route on British soil, and the plan was to begin with a wagon-road as the forerunner of a transcontinental railway. Mr. Sandford Fleming, though at that time he had not visited the Red River colony, had advocated the undertaking as far back as 1858, in a lecture which he published. So it came that when, in 1863, Mr. Fleming severed his connection with railway building in Ontario, he was asked, on behalf of the Red River colonists, to present and support a memorial to the Canadian and Imperial Governments praying them for the establishment of communication between East and West. The memorial was prepared by James Ross and William Coldwell, and bears the mark of their literary skill as well as their strong devotion to British interests. After outlining the plan which the memorial desired to see adopted, it goes on to indicate that such a road with its commerce and traffic would fill “Central British America with an industrious, loyal people. Thus both politically and commercially the opening up of this country, and the making of a national highway through it, would immensely subserve Imperial interests, and contribute to the stability and the glorious prestige of the British Empire.” This memorial was adopted by the Red River colonists at a mass meeting—a fact which suggests that despite their isolation of half a century there were men amongst them who had the vision of “a grand confederation of loyal and flourishing provinces skirting the United States’ frontier and commanding at once the Atlantic and the Pacific.” Verily, the colonization plan of the high-souled Lord Selkirk, which some men of his time called visionary and Utopian, was justifying itself in these Red River settlers, who not only laid a foundation of solid moral worth in a new land and demonstrated its great resources, but were also doing their part in welding together the links of a far-flung Empire under the British flag. This gives the noble founder of the colony, as well as the colony itself, an assured niche in the temple of our country’s fame.

Mr. Fleming was very enthusiastic over this memorial, and presented it to the Hon. John Sandfield Macdonald, then Premier of the Canadian Government. He accompanied it by a strong appeal in writing to Mr. Macdonald, in which he visioned the great importance of the road across the continent. Immediately thereafter, Mr. Fleming, at the request of the Red River people, proceeded to the Old Country, where he presented the memorial to the Duke of Newcastle, then Colonial Secretary. From his visit to Canada three years before, with the Prince of Wales, the Duke was familiar with the situation and discussed it with Mr. Fleming with great interest and freedom.

This visit to the Duke of Newcastle in 1863, while not productive of immediate results, was, according to the opinion of Mr. Lawrence J. Burpee, who writes an excellent biography of Mr. Fleming, the turning-point in Fleming’s career. It made him an Empire figure and intensified his worthy ambition to aid in building and consolidating into one vast commonwealth the scattered colonies under the red cross flag. Mr. Fleming’s later achievements in this regard are known to history. They brought him the esteem of his generation, the appreciation of his sovereign and the well-won and worthily-borne honour of knighthood. Mr. Fleming had barely returned to Toronto from his visit to the Colonial Secretary in the interests of a transcontinental roadway, when he was summoned by the Premier, John Sandfield Macdonald, to come to Quebec, then the Canadian capital. The result of that visit was that Mr. Fleming, with the cordial support of all the governments concerned, including the Imperial Government, represented by the Duke of Newcastle, was placed in charge of the surveys for the projected Intercolonial Railways in 1864. With his work on that important undertaking, till its completion, we cannot deal in this story. But we have traced the connection from the old Red River colony in the West to Mr. Fleming’s visit abroad on its behalf—a visit that led in large measure to his work on the Intercolonial, which, in turn, led to his being appointed in 1871 to the gigantic position of engineer-in-chief of the proposed transcontinental, the Canadian Pacific Railway. All this was preliminary and was part of Canada’s approach to a colossal task. In the next chapter we shall look more closely into the inception of an enterprise which now belts the globe.

CHAPTER III
Giants in Action

In an early chapter of the most famous of all Books, reference is made to the inhabitants of the earth at a certain period, in the descriptive statement, “There were giants in those days.” This is generally accepted as indicating the physical stature and strength of those ancient men. But there have been periods since that time concerning which we could repeat the statement in the light of their distinctive achievements, not necessarily because of the physical prowess, but because of the mental and moral energy of the men who wrought great deeds.

Such days, it seems to me, have been found in Canadian history in the period of the heroic men and women who pioneered in all the provinces, in the period when strong men grappled with the problems of confederating the scattered colonies of British North America into one Dominion, and in that period when the young Dominion, with only a few millions of people, undertook and accomplished, with incredible speed, the gigantic task of binding the provinces together by a band of steel. It is, briefly, with the confederation achievement, but, much more extendedly, with the building of the first transcontinental that our present writing deals. The battle of the pioneers was principally against poverty and climatic conditions. The battle for Confederation was intensified by political, racial and even religious issues, though ultimately none of these was much affected, as provision was made for the autonomy of the Provinces in their own affairs. The battle for the building of the Canadian Pacific Railway was first of all between political gladiators who differed as to the practicability and value of it. But when construction actually began, the struggle was against rival interests, and difficult financial conditions, as well as against such terrific natural obstacles that the undertaking was looked on by some as the very climax of engineering impossibility. Now that the smoke of battle has cleared away and that both Confederation and the Railway are running smoothly, we can look back and see the giants who fought victoriously to create the conditions we now enjoy. Some of these great men did not live to see the realization of their dreams, but they died in the faith that their dreams were so good that they would come true some time. Like the gallant soldiers of all time, they fell, still gripping the sword-hilt and cheering their comrades on to victory. Let us be grateful enough to halt for a moment with bowed heads and lay a wreath of memory on their honoured graves. Peace hath her victories no less renowned than war, and Canada must not forget her heroes in either.

There were several causes operating, midway in the last century, to lead the older Canada of Ontario and Quebec, and also the Maritime areas of New Brunswick, Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island, to consider the advisability of federating together for the good of the whole. The commercial power of the United States had such a magnetic pull upon some of the provinces that the tie which held these Provinces to Britain was being subjected to some strain. Moreover, the Imperial Government noticed with some anxiety that political prejudices and feeling between the various parts of the British possessions made any concerted plan for military action difficult to accomplish. Accordingly, as it is now known and can now be told, Lord Monck, who was the Governor-General in the “sixties,” quietly used some pressure to keep Confederation before the minds of public men in the various parts of the country. Besides all that, there was very considerable difficulty in carrying on government in the Canada of Ontario and Quebec, owing to racial differences and double leadership, which meant an almost constant danger of legislative deadlock.

Moreover, the British possessions from the St. Lawrence to the Pacific were like a dumbbell, big at the ends and weak in the middle, as a Westerner once said. There were the immense areas of older Canada and the still more immense areas west of Lake Superior—but the North Shore of that inland sea was a wilderness of unproductive rock where no link of settlement would seem possible. Hence, as the aforesaid Westerner expressed it, “Canada would break off in the middle unless we linked it up with the steel trail.” There was much truth in that statement in those early days and highly important truth it was. Many, in our day, cannot realize how swiftly inter-travel and inter-trade over the pioneer railway across Canada brought the East and the West together.

All these considerations, realized out of actually existing or foreseen conditions, impelled the statesman of Canada in the 60’s to take definite steps towards confederating the old provinces and then annexing the vast territories all the way to the Pacific Coast. And here entered the giants. Thus, for instance, in 1864 that great tribune of the people, Mr. George Brown, of the Toronto Globe, reported in favour of Confederation from a committee of the Canadian Legislature. About the same time the Legislatures in Nova Scotia, mainly through the efforts of Dr. (later Sir Charles) Tupper; in New Brunswick, through the influence of Mr. Samuel L. Tilley; in Prince Edward Island, by the exertions of the Hon. W. H. Pope, passed resolutions appointing delegates to a Conference in Charlottetown for the purpose of discussing a uniting of the Maritime Provinces. When that Conference met in Charlottetown a deputation from Ontario and Quebec was received consisting of unusually strong men, namely, John A. Macdonald, George Brown, George E. Cartier, A. T. Galt, T. D’Arcy McGee, Alexander Campbell and Hector L. Langevin. As a result of the Charlottetown meeting larger horizons loomed upon the vision of that remarkable gathering. The souls of the men who then assembled yearned beyond the sky-line of their own immediate surroundings and, thinking of the extent of British Possessions in North America, they were inspired and attracted by the greater task of confederating them all into one great Dominion from sea to sea. It was a tremendous task for that early day, but the men who faced it were giants who could not rest satisfied with being cabinned and cribbed in a narrow circumference, but who said:

“No pent-up Utica confines our powers

The vast, boundless continent is ours.”

After some discussion, the Charlottetown Conference adjourned to meet as a larger gathering in Quebec City on October 10th, 1864—a red-letter day not only in the history of Canada, but of the British Empire and the world. The object of the Quebec Conference was as stated above; and therefore there were men there from all the then organized British Provinces. These were men who could have filled places in the “Mother of Parliaments” at the world’s metropolis, but who at the Quebec meeting were engaged in the, perhaps, more difficult undertaking of bringing into being, out of diverse elements, a new nation within the Empire. These men were “The Fathers of Confederation,” and the famous picture of that conference should be in every Canadian home. Etienne P. Tache, who once said that the last gun fired in North America for British connection would be fired by a French-Canadian, was chairman. From Ontario and Quebec came John A. Macdonald, George Brown, George E. Cartier, A. T. Galt, William McDougall, Thomas D’Arcy McGee, Oliver Mowat, Alexander Campbell, James Cockburn, Hector L. Langevin, and Jean C. Chapais. From Nova Scotia there were Charles Tupper, W. A. Henry, Jonathan McCully and R. B. Dickey. From New Brunswick came Samuel L. Tilley, John M. Johnston, Charles Fisher, Peter Mitchell, E. B. Chandler, W. H. Steeves and John H. Gray; Prince Edward Island was represented by Colonel Gray, Edward Palmer, W. H. Pope, George Coles, Edward Whalen, T. H. Haviland and A. A. Macdonald. Newfoundland sent F. B. T. Carter and Ambrose Shea, though it was not yet to come into Confederation.

It is not our purpose, in the present writing, to dwell on this great meeting beyond saying that it led to the Confederation of Ontario, Quebec, Nova Scotia and New Brunswick in 1867. Prince Edward Island entered in 1873 and the Western prairie country and British Columbia in 1870 and 1871. The two latter entered with somewhat reluctant feet; Manitoba, retarded by Louis Riel’s stand against the incoming of Canada lest the rights of the natives should be ignored; and British Columbia, unready to come in unless the railway across the continent to the Pacific Coast was guaranteed within a given time. These difficulties were finally overcome, but the details do not belong to this story. Suffice it to say that Confederation being accomplished, the new sense of national unity led to combination in the immense undertaking of a railway from sea to sea. The courageous facing of such an enormous task had no precedent in the business history of the modern world. The big Republic to the South of us has done some amazing things, such as the Panama Canal in recent years, but even that commercially daring country only attempted a transcontinental railway when it had nearly forty millions of people. Canada undertook the task when her population was less than four millions. To the onlooking world the attempt must have appeared like “a forlorn hope”—a sort of a “Charge of the Light Brigade” against batteries bristling with obstacles of a wholly unprecedented kind. But there are always some men who are unafraid, and the dream of seers was to be realized. Once Confederation had been accomplished, a transcontinental railway became a national necessity. This was true not only from the standpoint of politics and trade, but from the standpoint also of law and order in the far-flung country. It will be remembered that Louis Riel started a revolt against the incoming of Canadian authority in 1869, and that he held high carnival in the West till Colonel Garnet Wolseley and his soldiers reached Fort Garry from the East, nearly a year after the Riel outbreak started. All this period was not consumed in travel; but it had taken three months’ steady travel overland, after mobilization in the East, before Wolseley reached the scene of Riel’s revolt. The whole Western country might have been swept by the rebel chief’s revolt in that time, and the necessity of swifter communication between the different parts of Canada became painfully apparent. And so, when British Columbia came into Confederation in 1871, there was an understanding that the railway from the East to the Pacific should begin in two years and be finished in ten. This daring pledge was given by Sir John A. Macdonald and his Government at Ottawa, despite the fact that a distinguished explorer and engineer, Capt. Palliser, sent out by the Imperial Government, had reported after four years on the ground, that on account of the mountains being impassable, a transcontinental railway could not be built from sea to sea on British territory. But Sir John Macdonald went ahead and sought to interest some big business men who might form a company to build the Canadian Pacific to the Western sea.

At that time Sir Hugh Allan, head of the Allan line of steamships, was probably the most able and prominent business man in Canada. He was not only interested in steamships on the Atlantic, but had acquired railway interests as well. There is no doubt that Sir Hugh Allan had been pressing upon men in public life the project of a transcontinental railway, which he might lead in building, with the further idea, no doubt, of having another line of steamers on the Pacific. This was a worthy enough ambition for a great Canadian. There is no reason to think that Sir Hugh Allan was mercenary or avaricious, for he had no need of more wealth than he possessed. In any case he, being of the same political party as Sir John Macdonald, as well as a man of great ability and financial power, was one of those in line as a possibility for such a big task.

Accordingly Allan formed a company to build the railway. So also did Mr. D. L. Macpherson and a group of Toronto capitalists, who alleged that Allan was in league with American interests in a degree that would militate against the success of the Canadian Pacific as a Canadian road. Sir John Macdonald tried in vain to get these two projected companies to amalgamate. Finally it seemed to be settled that a new company should be formed of Canadians and that Allan would have control. He was spending money with a lavish hand and when the Dominion election was held in 1872 he furnished the large sum of $160,000 for campaign funds to Macdonald, Cartier and Langevin. It is known that Allan had always contributed to the campaign funds of the party, as others did, but the fact that these campaign funds in 1872 were contributed at a time when a huge contract was pending, made the whole transaction look dangerous. All campaign funds are legally and morally wrong, and the fact that they were customary and that everybody knows they are customary, does not make them right.

In this particular case, Cartier, who was then mentally as well as physically broken down, and who, contrary to Macdonald’s advice, ran for an impossible constituency, where he was defeated, seems to have made the largest demands on Allan. It seems clear also that Cartier held out to Allan, hopes of the contract. But it is also clear that the other leaders got certain sums which they used in the campaign. The Macdonald government was elected. After the election a new company, called the Canadian Pacific, was formed, with representative men from all the Provinces as directors. That new board chose Allan as President, it is said, without any pressure from the Government. This is not unlikely, as Allan was, as we have said, the biggest business man in Canada at the time. To this company the Government granted a charter to build the Canadian Pacific, but American interests were to be excluded as the Government insisted. Allan agreed to this and repaid the money the Americans had advanced. The New York men, of course, were annoyed at this and gave the opponents of the Macdonald Government some hints as to those campaign funds from Allan. Then Allan’s personal correspondence with American interests during the election year was stolen by a clerk in the office of Allan’s solicitor, Mr. J. J. C. Abbott, and, being made public, raised a tremendous political storm.

When the House of Commons met the atmosphere was tense and electric. Only a few days elapsed before Mr. L. S. Huntingdon, for the Opposition, moved for the investigation of the charges that were floating around in regard to these campaign funds, the suggestion being that Sir Hugh Allan got the railway contract in return for his monetary contributions. On an immediate vote the Government was sustained, but there was an uneasy feeling abroad and men of independent mould were breaking away from party ties. Sir John Macdonald, who saw the situation with his usual political sagacity, himself moved for the appointment of an investigating commission, and the House adjourned till that commission would be ready to report. When the House met in October, 1873, the Hon. Alexander Mackenzie, leader of the Opposition, moved a vote of non-confidence and supported it by quoting from the report of the commission. The debate in the House was hot. Charles Tupper, the “war horse of Cumberland”—a masterful debater, who later was the tremendous drive wheel of the railway project—supported the Government, but Huntingdon replied that the Government had kept itself in power by the lavish use of money from men who were desiring contracts. Sir John A. Macdonald spoke for nearly five hours in defence of his action, dealing with the whole history of the Canadian Pacific Railway. He made a special appeal for support in order that East and West might be connected by rail and the whole of Canada developed. Sir John, though at no stage of his career a great orator, was possessed of a magnetic manner and could coin phrases that had indescribable force. Such, for instance, was the expression he used once at a great mass meeting in Toronto, when he said dramatically, “A British subject I was born—a British subject I will die.” On this occasion, in 1873, in the House, when he made explanation of his policy in regard to the railway contract, he closed his five hours’ address in the words: “But, Sir, I commit myself, the Government commits itself, to the hands of this House; and far beyond this House, it commits itself to the country at large. We have faithfully done our duty. We have fought the battle of Confederation. We have fought the battle of unity. We have had party strife, setting Province against Province. And more than all, we have had, in the greatest Province, every prejudice and sectional feeling that could be arrayed against us. I throw myself on this House; I throw myself on this country; I throw myself on posterity, and I believe that, notwithstanding the many failings of my life, I shall have the voice of this country rallying around me. And, Sir, if I am mistaken in that, I can confidently appeal to a higher court—to the court of my own conscience, and to the court of posterity. I leave it to this House with the utmost confidence. I am equal to either fortune. I can see past the decision of this House, either for or against me, but, whether it be for or against me, I know, and it is no vain boast of me to say so, for even my enemies will admit that I am no boaster—that there does not exist in Canada a man who has given more of his time, more of his heart, more of his wealth, or more of his intellect and power, such as they may be, for the good of this Dominion of Canada.”

This speech was listened to by a full house and crowded galleries, amongst those present being Lord Roseberry, then on a visit to Canada. Sir John closed his speech about two o’clock in the morning, and the Hon. Edward Blake rose to reply. Blake was probably the ablest and most massively intellectual man that Canada has produced. He lacked the magnetism of Sir John, but had the power, almost to a fault, of dealing with a subject in such detail that when he was through with it there was little left to be said. Mr. Blake was at that time quite sceptical as to the practicability of a transcontinental railway, anyway; but that night in the House of Commons he concentrated his tremendous argumentative oratory against the Government for having, as he alleged, won the election with campaign funds from interested parties.

There was doubt as to the result in the House till some of the independent members who might ordinarily have supported the Government began to indicate otherwise. Curiously enough, Mr. Donald A. Smith (afterwards Lord Strathcona), the man who, later on, drove the last spike in the Canadian Pacific Railway, under the Premiership of this same Sir John Macdonald, in 1885, was the member who really dealt the Government its knockout blow in 1873 in the House of Commons. No one knew what the course of Mr. Smith, who was never a party man, would be, and when he rose to speak every one listened with strained attention. His opening words seemed to favour the Government, but he was simply absolving Sir John Macdonald from personal blame. Here is the report of what Mr. Smith said: “With respect to the transaction between the Government and Sir Hugh Allan, I do not consider that the First Minister took the money with any corrupt motive. I feel that the leader of the Government is incapable of taking money from Sir Hugh Allen for corrupt purposes. I would be most willing to vote confidence in the Government (loud cheers from the Government side), if I could do so conscientiously (loud cheers from the Opposition). It is with very great regret that I cannot do so. For the honour of the country, no Government should exist that has a shadow of suspicion resting on them, and for that reason I could not support them.” (Renewed Opposition cheers.) In the afternoon of that day, November 5th, 1873, Sir John A. Macdonald informed the House that he had placed his resignation in the hands of the Governor-General and that the Hon. Alexander Mackenzie was called upon to form a new administration.

Sir John Macdonald had resigned without waiting for a vote of the House and no one to this day knows just how it would have divided. But the feeling in the country was hot and, like a wise man, he bowed to the inevitable. He said that someday the people would understand and call him back to power. The fact that they did call him back five years later astounded his political foes, one of whom had said in the House, during the debate, that Sir John “had fallen like Lucifer, never to rise again.” But he did rise, to the surprise of many. The fact that he came back later on was due, in some degree, to his personal magnetism. But it was also due to the fact that people knew that Sir John had not profited in any personal way and that he and Sir Hugh Allan had become almost obsessed with the idea that the continuance of Sir John in office at that time was absolutely necessary to the opening up and development of Canada. They acted accordingly, as if the end they had in view justified the methods they adopted. Moreover, it was shown that Sir John had definitely told Allan that he would not give the railway contract to him, but to an amalgamation of the two companies. Allan said in connection with the whole matter: “The plans I propose are the best for the interests of the Dominion and in urging them I am doing a patriotic action.”

In the meantime, when Sir John resigned, Mackenzie took office and, in a general election shortly afterwards, swept the country. Sir Hugh Allan, unable to raise capital in the presence of the political earthquake and the business depression, threw up the charter for building the Canadian Pacific Railway, and a new programme had to be adopted. For the time being the curtain had to be rung down on the gigantic project.

CHAPTER IV
The Chariot Wheels Drag

The name of Alexander Mackenzie, the stonemason, who succeeded Sir John Macdonald as Premier of Canada in 1873, deserves to be uttered with profound respect. By the most intense application to work and the most diligent use of his opportunities in the right way, he rose steadily, not only in circumstances, but in the esteem of his fellow-countrymen, till he attained the highest office in the gift of the Canadian people. Born in the Highlands of Scotland, he came out to Canada as a young stonecutter. He returned some thirty years later to the romantic scenes of his childhood as the Premier of the Dominion, a credit alike to the land of his birth and the land of his adoption. Once, in my student days, I met him in Winnipeg. He had made the trip to the far West, but was in poor health—a rather pathetic figure, I thought, whose unflinching resistance of down-grade influences had made his public life harder than stonecutting.

But while we thus pay him personal tribute, we find that, whether as a result of the dissolution of the Allan Company, or pressure of lean years, or the lack of enthusiasm amongst his following in the House, Mackenzie, despite his good intentions, made little progress with the building of the Canadian Pacific Railway during his five years in office. It was not easy for Mackenzie and his supporters, after attacking the general extravagance of Sir John Macdonald’s plan for a transcontinental, to accommodate themselves to carrying out the scheme of a railway from ocean to ocean. Edward Blake, Mackenzie’s great lieutenant, had openly said more than once that the rounding out of Confederation by pledging a railway to British Columbia within a fixed term was too costly. The population of the West Coast Province was only some ten thousand or so of white people, he said, and this country was “a sea of mountains.” One of the chief newspapers of Mr. Mackenzie’s party said that the Canadian Pacific “would not pay for axle grease” over certain sections. Mr. Blake, it is true, in 1891 visited the West Coast over the completed railway, and made a brilliantly humorous and eloquent apology for his mistaken conception of the country. But that was too late to help Mackenzie with his problem, and the fact that Mr. Blake and some others of his party actually voted in the House against Mackenzie’s proposal regarding the Esquimault railway on Vancouver Island did not help the heavily burdened Premier. But one must allow that it is much easier to be optimistic about British Columbia now than it was at that time. Very few people then dreamed of the development that could and would take place in the Province which Mr. Blake, speaking for thousands in the East, called “a sea of mountains.” It looked like that in those days before the world knew that British Columbia had not only mines and forests and fish, but that vast areas would be opened up along the rivers and in the mountain valleys which would prove immensely adapted to agriculture, fruit-growing and dairying. Therefore let us be kind to the men who were sceptical about the whole railway undertaking. We are quoting their scepticism here only to show the problem that Premier Mackenzie had to face when he came into power in 1873. Under all the circumstances he did the best he could at the time—that is, the best that could be done by any man who lacked the full-hearted support of some of his own friends, and who felt that to meet the demands of the naturally impatient and almost resentful British Columbia, was practically impossible in the lean years that seemed imminent and beyond his power to control.

But Mackenzie began on the problem and we find him, in 1874, in an election address to his own constituents in Lambton, Ontario, unfolding his plan. Briefly, the transportation system was to be a sort of amphibious animal. Mackenzie, realizing that traffic by water is the cheapest type of transportation, thought he saw a possibility of securing a transcontinental, without undue cost, by utilizing “the magnificent water stretches” across Canada, linking them together by rail as funds would be available. In this way he claimed that railway construction would be gradual enough to avoid excessive financial expenditure, and that the country would be gradually settled. Settlement would keep abreast with railway construction and thus the possibility of having the railway going ahead of the settlement across an uninhabited, and therefore unproductive, country would be eliminated.

Mr. Mackenzie was perfectly sincere in this, as he was in everything. The plan was not without merit under the circumstances, but it had defects which arose out of a lack of knowledge of the Western country generally, and particularly of the attitude of the people of British Columbia. It also ignored the strange, but characteristic, impulses of human nature in regard to migration. Every now and then in history some section of humanity strikes its tents and goes on the march, railway or no railway. Especially does the Star of the Empire draw people westward. Before there was a railway in the West at all, many of my own kith and kin loaded their few belongings on ox-carts and took their way five hundred miles north-westward to Prince Albert, on the North Saskatchewan. And so also will some people go on in advance of the railway, despite all advice to the contrary. For years I heard it said by some that had the Canadian Pacific not been built so rapidly, settlement would have been more compact along the line. But this theory is contradicted by the actual fact, as we saw it, that when the trains were only running to Brandon, west of Winnipeg, settlers were leaving the train there and trekking on westward with prairie schooners. Great numbers may not thus go forward in any particular case, but since a country grows by the enterprise of the adventurous, it becomes the duty of such a country to follow with utilities, the people who thus widen the horizon of the land.

Moreover, Mackenzie’s well-intentioned policy of using the water stretches would have made transportation too slow and too expensive for shippers, owing to the constant need for transfers, with necessary delays and damages. And, most important of all, that policy indicated too tardy a construction of the transcontinental to satisfy British Columbia, which had entered confederation on the distinct understanding that a railway would be built to the Pacific within reasonable time.

Mackenzie made an effort, by sending Mr. J. D. Edgar to British Columbia, to secure a modification in the terms of Confederation in regard to railway construction. This mission was resented in British Columbia, and Mr. Edgar was recalled. The people of British Columbia looked on the attempt to change the Confederation terms as a breach of faith on the part of Canada, and said so in their usual straight-flung words. Both parties put the case before Lord Carnarvon, who offered to arbitrate. His award was on the whole rather favourable to Mackenzie’s effort for modification, and was accepted in the meantime as the best obtainable. British Columbia, feeling that even the modified terms would not be carried out, began to discuss withdrawing from Confederation, and motions to that effect were actually submitted in the Legislature.

Things were not looking well, and that master diplomat, Lord Dufferin, then Governor-General of Canada, resolved to visit the West Coast, accompanied by his gracious lady. They crossed via Chicago and San Francisco by rail, thence by H.M.S. Amethyst to Vancouver Island. They were warmly welcomed to Victoria, but were given, from the beginning, to understand that British Columbia wanted the railway and wanted it without delay. At one point they saw a horse blanketed and upon the blanket were the words “Good, but not iron.”

In Victoria arches were numerous. One arch had an inscription, “Our railway iron rusts,” and another very conspicuous one had the menacing message “Carnarvon terms or separation.”

Lord Dufferin knew his relation to the Crown and to the Government of the day too well to allow his courtesy to run away with his conception of duty as Governor-General of Canada, and so he declined to drive under the arch which had upon it the threat of secession. So he ordered the carriage to detour until that arch was passed. Afterwards Lady Dufferin said, “The Governor-General would have driven under the arch if one letter had been changed so as to have the inscription read ‘The Carnarvon Terms or Reparation.’ ” The incident caused some excitement, but Lord Dufferin knew his constitutional law too well to be moved. On the whole the visit of this brilliant diplomat and magnetic orator made a great impression for good. His speech at the close of the tour of the Coast was a noble eulogy of the wonderful beauty and potential wealth of British Columbia. While not becoming a partisan advocate for the Dominion Government, Lord Dufferin expressed his view that Mr. Mackenzie had done his best under all the circumstances, and would continue so to do while he was in power. The speech of the eloquent and tactful Governor-General had a pronounced effect in allaying the indignation of the people against the Government of the day. They settled down to wait development with as good grace as possible.

However, after waiting two years more without seeing any railway construction begun on either the mainland of British Columbia or Vancouver Island, Premier George A. Walkem, in the Legislature at Victoria, moved the famous resolution to the effect that unless the Dominion started railway construction by May of 1879, the Province of British Columbia should withdraw from the Confederation and even ask damages from Canada for delay in carrying out their railway promises to the Province. This extraordinary motion was carried by fourteen to nine, with the probable intention of waking up both the Imperial and Canadian Governments to the discontent on the Western Coast. The resolution reached Ottawa in October, 1878, just after the Mackenzie Government had been defeated, and owing to the confusion caused by the change it was put into some pidgeonhole for a rest, and did not reach London till March, 1879. By that time Sir John A. Macdonald, who had come back to power with his aggressive and indomitable Railway Minister, Sir Charles Tupper, was getting down to a new programme of railway building, and British Columbia, in consequence, was becoming more contented and hopeful. So no one asked any questions when the famous secession resolution of the British Columbia legislature found oblivion in the files of Downing Street.

All this does not mean that Mr. Mackenzie was inactive in the matter of the transcontinental railway. Considering the facts we have mentioned already, namely, that many of his chief supporters were lukewarm in regard to the whole project, which they considered premature, and the further fact that there was a cycle of lean years, he strove to get things moving, but the chariot wheels dragged. There was no popular enthusiasm over the undertaking, because the times were hard and there was general failure on the part of the people to get a vision of the illimitable possibilities that lay to westward. But some progress was made. Extensive surveys were carried forward. And several contracts were let for the easier portions of the route. The hard places, like the North Shore of Lake Superior, and the mountains in British Columbia, were not attempted. Lord and Lady Dufferin, at Emerson, Manitoba, in 1877, drove the first two spikes in the portion which started at the international boundary-line, where the railways linked up with an American line. This was later called the Emerson Branch, and ran from the boundary east of the Red River through St. Boniface, across from Winnipeg, to East Selkirk. From Selkirk a portion of the railway to Thunder Bay, on Lake Superior, was begun. It was the plan of the Mackenzie Government to cross the Red River at Selkirk, and strike westward over the prairies, side-tracking Winnipeg, which was then becoming a considerable centre of population. I recall a locomotive round-house at East Selkirk built in Mackenzie’s time, but later abandoned when the line was changed to run through Winnipeg. Budding political orators made merry over this round-house, as being the only assurance they had that a road which would require the stabling of iron horses at a divisional point would some day be constructed.

The slow progress of transcontinental railway building afforded ammunition to the opponents of the Mackenzie Government in the House of Commons. And there is no record of an Opposition ever allowing an opportunity to oppose to go by unused. In one year we find that redoubtable fighter, Dr. (later Sir) Charles Tupper, moving a long resolution urging the Government “to employ the available funds of the Dominion to complete the road.” This was voted down. Next year that unique, somewhat peculiar, but quite brilliantly versatile publicist, Mr. Amor de Cosmos, of British Columbia, moved a vote of censure on the Government for the slowness of their building of the road to the Coast. This resolution did not get far in the House. The Coast was so far away that the project of building all the way to the Pacific gave even the Opposition a chill when it came squarely before them. Hon. George W. Ross, a Mackenzie supporter, moved that only such progress should be attempted as would “not increase the existing rates of taxation,” which manifestly would mean not much progress. Dr. Tupper came back to the attack in April, 1877, with a motion of censure, but this was negatived also. During all this time that astute statesman, Sir John A. Macdonald, was studying the political horoscope, and all of a sudden, in 1878, he propounded a policy of protection and railway construction which caught the popular imagination and he was swept into power again. There was a swift revival of optimism, because there was a revival of trade, and the wave carried the Canadian Pacific Railway enterprise on its crest to new heights of success.

CHAPTER V
Getting up Speed

Whether a protective tariff brings real or fictitious prosperity, and whether it enriches the few or the many, are questions which are fortunately outside the scope of this book. But, anyway, the fact, historically, is that with the advent of Sir John Macdonald and his National Policy of protection in 1878, there came quite a pronounced outburst of new faith in the future possibilities of Canada. There were, no doubt, other subsidiary causes, and some even hold that lean and fat years come in cycles. But, in any case, there was a decided restoration of public confidence in all legitimate business enterprises, and, what was still more important, there came a distinctive national sentiment and pride which made the vast project of the Canadian Pacific Railway from ocean to ocean a distinct possibility.

Portions of the railway had already been under construction by the Mackenzie Government, as we have seen. These portions were mainly east of the Red River, but surveys had been carried on with far-reaching results in the mountain region of British Columbia. These surveys were under the general direction of Mr. Marcus Smith, an engineer of remarkable experience and ability. He had done work in the British Isles and Spain before coming to this side of the ocean, where he was on service in South America, as well as on the Grand Trunk and the Intercolonial in the older parts of what is now Eastern Canada. The other day here, through the kindness of Mr. Newton Ker, now head of the Coast Department of Lands for the Canadian Pacific, I had the privilege of reading a scrap book kept by Mr. Marcus Smith over many years, and willed by him to Mr. Ker. This book indicates that Mr. Smith had a very wide interest in social, civil and political life, as well as in his own special vocation of engineering. The man who gathered that collection of articles together had a big outlook on things, and would regard his work in the mountains as of national significance.

The remarkable explorations of Mr. Walter Moberly, who later discovered the Eagle’s Pass by watching the flight of eagles evidently following a fish-stream, had produced good results and his experience in connection with the building of the famous Yale-Cariboo wagon road made his later services specially valuable. Mr. Henry J. Cambie, and Mr. Thomas H. White, his personal assistant and associate in solving the engineering problems through the Fraser River canyons, are still, happily, living in Vancouver, highly regarded as citizens who did their share of nation building. Other noted engineers of that period in British Columbia were H. T. Jennings, H. P. Bell, Henry MacLeod, C. E. Perry, G. A. Keefer, Joseph Hunter, L. B. Hamlin, W. F. Gouin, C. F. Harrington, E. W. Jarvis, John Trutch, C. Horetzky, C. H. Gamsby and, later on, Major Rogers, after whom Rogers’ Pass was named, although Moberly always contended that the pass had been discovered by Albert Perry, one of his assistants in a survey in 1866. Of course there were many others, but these are representative of the famous body of men who made their way along the dangerous rivers, through the tangled forests, by precipitous cliffs and across terrific canyons, until they finally found safe location for the steel trail through a region that many had pronounced to be impenetrable—a sort of supernatural barrier interposed between the prairies and the Western sea. Most of these men have, as already intimated, passed over the Great Divide into the Unseen; but, at great cost to themselves in hardship and suffering and privation, they made it possible for the people of to-day to travel in rolling palaces where once they themselves trod with aching and weary feet. Let us highly honour the memory of the engineers and surveyors and their men, who were the forerunners of the mighty engines which now thunder through the echoing mountain passes, along which these heroes of the transit and the chain, long years ago, pursued their painful and precarious way.

The Macdonald Government came back into power in 1878, as we have seen, on the wave of the National Policy movement. But, for two years, they worked on the lines of their predecessors and linked up some of the disconnected portions of the road which Mr. Mackenzie had constructed in various localities, mainly between the Lakes and the Red River. Then Sir Charles Tupper, that militant and aggressive Minister of Railways, took the bold plunge and let to Andrew Onderdonk, a young American railroader of San Francisco, contracts to build portions of the Canadian Pacific through “the sea of mountains” in British Columbia. Canada was young at the railway business, as indicated by the fact that it was an American who got the contract to build the first parts of the mountain road. Later on, as the construction of the road from ocean to ocean began to get under way, Canadians developed by the score into great practical railway builders. Young men who had begun by chopping in the bush grew into contractors for getting out ties for the track-layers, and finally themselves took contracts for actual building of the railway over rock and boulders, through mountain vastnesses and quaking bogs until the steel reached tide water. It was in itself an act of splendid audacity for a people of less than four millions in number to start on the task of throwing a railway across an immense and almost uninhabited continent to the shores of the Western sea. And this daring on the part of the young Dominion was backed gallantly and effectively by scores of native-born Canadians who, with genuine Canadian initiative, learned a new trade and followed it with tremendous energy and skill.

It has been my good fortune and privilege to meet many of these men. Some of them made money and some of them did not. The task of calculating the cost of a piece of work over a given stretch of country, where unexpected obstacles emerged, was not easy. There were stretches on the North Shore of Lake Superior where the old Laurentian rocks had to be blasted to pieces at a cost of half-a-million a mile. There is a well-known muskeg east of Winnipeg where seven tracks went under, till a solid foundation was secured in what looked for a while like a bottomless pit. And there were tunnels and bridges and cuttings in the mountains which challenged the resources of a race of Titans. So, we say, these contractors did not, by any means, always make money. But my knowledge of them leads me to say that very few of the contractors or engineers cared for the money end of it in any case. They felt that they were engaged in a work of significance, not only to Canada and the Empire, but to the world, and that was an inspiration worth while. I recall being told by the secretary to one of the most famous of these railway builders that, so intent was this railway man on his work, that he very often forgot to have money enough in his pocket for personal necessities. In one sense he handled millions; but, only for the precaution of his secretary who knew his ways, this railway magnate would often have been personally stranded. “He thought so little of money,” said the secretary, “that he hardly ever carried any with him. But he was generous withal. The real fact was he was so engrossed in the great enterprise of helping to build a road across Canada that he forgot his own personal needs.”

Going back to Mr. Andrew Onderdonk, it is interesting to recall his influence on the social life of British Columbia by his importation of a few thousand Chinese coolies to work on railway construction. Mr. Onderdonk claimed that he was unable to get enough white men who were willing to do that particular kind of work. Be that as it may, the present fact is that we have a very large Chinese population in this Province which faces the Orient. It is equally sure that the presence of so many Orientals causes many serious problems. It is fashionable for some people who do not know the history, to lay the responsibility for the presence of Chinese here on the Canadian Pacific Railway Company. But the fact is that it was Mr. Onderdonk who imported these Oriental coolies while the road was still under Government supervision, two or more years before the Canadian Pacific Railway Company was formed. It is only fair always to apportion praise or blame justly, so that every one shall bear his own burden of responsibility without having to carry more than his share. Hence, the company, be it known, was not the originator of the importation of Chinese coolies for the construction of the road. On this subject we are not now moralizing either way, but are simply making a statement of historical fact.

In any case, Mr. Onderdonk knew the business of railway construction and kept steadily on, taking over some portions from other contractors, till he had the steel laid from Port Moody to Kamloops, and made a creditable record for railway building across an exceedingly difficult section of Canada. In fact, Sir Charles Tupper, the militant Minister of Railways, said quite openly that, though the construction of a piece of the road on the Pacific Coast would not mean much till it was linked up with the Eastern part of Canada, he wanted to get the mountain section under construction without delay for certain reasons. One was that the construction of that exceedingly difficult section, if successfully accomplished, would show the possibility of the whole task of the transcontinental being completed in due time. The other, of course, was that the people of British Columbia, fortunately for them, had several ably-insistent and politely-vociferous leaders who would give no rest to any Government till the work of railway construction had actually begun on the Coast. There were some prominent men elsewhere who did not look at things in the same light. An Opposition in Parliament opposes the party in power as a sort of a constitutional principle, nominally at least, for the safety of the country, which otherwise might have unwise legislation imposed on it. But even apart from that, we need not now look with undue criticism on the record of men like the Hon. Edward Blake, a statesman of great ability and integrity who, when Onderdonk was going ahead with his contracts in the mountains, moved in the House of Commons in 1880 that “the public interests require that the work of constructing the Pacific Railway in British Columbia be postponed.” Others of his party took the same stand, and it must be admitted that, apart from the prerogative of an Opposition above indicated, the whole project seemed vast enough to appal men who did not personally know the West well enough to visualize its illimitable future. The gigantic undertaking, as already mentioned, looked well nigh quixotic for less than four millions of people, and the fact that there were, in the years following, times when the whole effort seemed on the verge of disaster, ought to restrain our wholesale condemnation of early sceptics. Incidentally, it ought to bring us to the salute when we think of the railway builders who fought their amazing difficulties and, by fighting, gathered strength to win out in the end.

Andrew Onderdonk in the mountains and other contractors between Lake Superior and the Red River, were doing good work, but their detached pieces of road ended in the air. And Sir John A. Macdonald was quick to see that something more had to be done. Accordingly, at a Cabinet meeting at the close of the first session after his return to power, Sir John brought up the question of building railways in the North-West in order to attract immigrants. Sir Charles Tupper, who, being at the head of the Department of Railways, had made special study of the situation, agreed with Sir John that something should be done at once and neither one of them was in love with the idea of Government ownership and operation of railways. Sir Charles thought the policy of a transcontinental should be again emphasized, and that a responsible company should be secured to build it. Sir John said that was always his idea; but it was a “large order” and they had better take a week to think it over. On the appointed day Sir Charles submitted a carefully prepared report in favour of a through line, built, owned and operated by a chartered company. Putting it in brief form, the suggestion was that the Government should complete and hand over to such a company the parts of the railway then built or under construction, estimated at about seven hundred miles, which, when finished, would have cost about thirty-two millions of dollars. The portions of the road then built, or being built, were the lines from Port Arthur to Winnipeg, from Kamloops to Port Moody and the Emerson Branch on the east side of the Red River, from the boundary-line to St. Boniface and Winnipeg. In addition to getting possession of these portions, the company would receive a cash grant of twenty-five millions of dollars, and fifty (later reduced to twenty-five) million acres of land along the railway.

The suggestion was heartily agreed to by Sir John, and the Cabinet was unanimously in favour of the plan proposed. The Cabinet adjourned immediately after the decision was made. The members thereof had good reason to call it a day. The Rubicon had been crossed and the country was on the march to a new destiny. There were to be many obstacles encountered before the objective would be reached. It was a mighty venture of faith, but men of thought and men of action would clear the way.

Meanwhile the contractors on the portions under construction carried on, but the Government was looking eagerly to the financial magnates of the Old Land to form a company to carry out its policy. Yet, despite a visit of Sir John, Sir Charles and the Hon. John Henry Pope to London, there was no rush on the part of British financiers to build a railway across a vast, thinly populated continent. And when it looked as if there was going to be a disappointing set-back, there arose a small group of men on our own continent who were destined to lead in making the projected transcontinental what Lord Shaughnessy, a few hours before his death, called so finely, in a conversation with President Beatty, “a great Canadian property and a great Canadian enterprise.” We shall, in the next chapter, meet the men who came to the rescue.

CHAPTER VI
A Great Adventure

Playing safe” is a better programme than reckless foolhardiness, but it is a poor programme as compared with the spirit of adventure. Without adventure, based upon faith, humanity’s horizon would never have widened out and new continents and new avenues for the expenditure of human energy in great enterprises for the good of mankind would never have been discovered. Satisfaction with present attainment means stagnation, and it is better to reach out after the apparently unattainable than to allow our God-given energies to suffer atrophy through disuse.

In our present study of the building of a great railway across Canada, traversing vast unpeopled plains, and boring its way through what some had declared to be impassable mountain barriers, it is a very interesting thing to find the enterprise somewhat closely linked up with a certain other organization that had been chartered in 1670, under the title of “The Governor and Company of Adventurers of England trading into Hudson Bay.” The big word in that title is the word “adventurers,” and it applies both to the men who hazarded their capital and to the men who fared forth from the Old Country into the unknown spaces of the new continent on this side of the sea. This Hudson’s Bay Company not only attracted attention to the new world that had still to be conquered, but its able and resourceful employees in the North-West became distinct elements in the progress of the country.

In this particular connection one Donald Alexander Smith (later Lord Strathcona) who had come out from Scotland as a lad to Labrador, in the service of the Company, had risen to be head of that Company in Canada at the time of Confederation, and was a member of the House of Commons for Winnipeg when the project of a transcontinental railway loomed up as an actual possibility. Mr. Smith was a restlessly ambitious man, or he would not have so risen, and there is no doubt in my mind (and I knew him in his later years) that when the discussion arose he began to cherish the hope of being an instrument in linking up the East and West in some way by the much-discussed railway.

Since writing this I came across a letter, dated November, 1872, at Stuart Lake, B.C., from the Hudson’s Bay Company factor then in charge there, to the officer in charge at another post. This letter not only shows that the Hudson’s Bay Company, instead of retarding the opening up of the country by rail as some have affirmed, was actively assisting and making possible the work of explorers and surveyors who were beginning to blaze the way for the road. And it also shows that Mr. Donald A. Smith was, even that far back, on his own behalf and on behalf of the ancient fur-trading organization, contributing his quota in that direction. Here is an extract in the letter from one Hudson’s Bay man to another: “The bearer is a botanist belonging to the railway survey who arrived here in company with an engineer, and who is the bearer of a letter from Mr. Donald A. Smith to us men in the service to assist the surveyors as far as possible. He also showed me a letter from Mr. Sandford Fleming, authorizing the engineer who goes down the Skeena to sign any bill of expenses he may have with the Hudson’s Bay Company and it will be good. I have told him that you would forward him to Victoria and push him through as quickly as possible. The engineer’s name is something like Horetzkie.” The writer of that letter had caught the name of the engineer all right. And it shows not only how these Hudson’s Bay posts made the work of these and other explorers possible, but in this particular case it links the name of Donald A. Smith with the new day that was dawning.

I do not think that Mr. Smith was by any means the ablest of the men who later formed the Canadian Pacific Railway Company Board. But he was unquestionably the pivot on which the project turned, from its doubtful success as a Government undertaking, to its becoming an accomplished fact as a privately owned and operated concern.

And it happened on this wise. Mr. Smith had to travel frequently between West and East, through St. Paul, Minnesota, on his way from Fort Garry to Ottawa and Montreal, in connection with parliamentary and Company business. In St. Paul he usually called on Mr. Norman W. Kitson, a Canadian, formerly a Hudson’s Bay factor, and met along with him another Canadian, James J. Hill, who was then in the coal business. Kitson and Hill were both interested in transportation to the Red River country, and were anxious to get a hold of a three-hundred-mile railway called the St. Paul and Pacific, running from St. Paul to the Red River, and later to westward, if it could be kept going. This road had fallen into misfortune because grasshopper plagues and Indian troubles and massacres had depopulated the territory through which it ran. So the Dutch bondholders had thrown it into the hands of the receiver, and the bonds were not saleable in the ordinary way. Hill and Kitson, who knew more about the country than the Dutch bondholders, felt that the road could be built up into a really valuable concern, and Smith thought the same. But they lacked the capital to acquire it.

Mr. Smith, on arrival in Montreal, told all this to his cousin, Mr. George Stephen, another Scot, who had prospered well in business and was President of the Bank of Montreal. Stephen (later Lord Mount Stephen) was a man of unusual strength and vision. They talked it over with Mr. R. B. Angus, also a Scot, and a very able business man, who was, at that time, general manager of the same bank. Stephen and Angus agreed generally with Smith, but they had not then seen the country and were not of the kind to be rash. However, in 1877 Stephen and Angus had to be in Chicago on banking business and, having a few days at their disposal, decided to run up to St. Paul and see Hill and his country. They saw both, as well as the railway, and were satisfied it had a big future. The grasshoppers were disappearing, the Indians were all peaceful or dead, and settlers would rush in to the rich areas. Stephen was a man of swift action when he was satisfied, and so he hied himself away to Amsterdam, got an option on the railway and came back with that option in his pocket. The necessary money was raised, bonds were later on floated, and Stephen, Hill, Angus, Smith (all Canadians), with John S. Kennedy, of New York, took over the railway and the land-grant. We need not follow the history of that St. Paul, Minneapolis and Manitoba Railway (which later developed into “Jim” Hill’s Great Northern); but everything seemed to come the way of the adventurous Canadians who had risked much on it, and they became multi-millionaires in a surprisingly short time.

It was to this group of men, who were doubtless ready to be approached, that Sir John A. Macdonald, after having tried in vain in Europe, turned, when even Sir Charles Tupper, who was never disposed to be afraid of anybody or anything, called the Premier’s attention to the prodigious task ahead if the Government itself attempted to build and operate a railway across Canada from sea to sea. By these financial men and a few more, as we shall see, the project that had terrified Governments of both political shades was undertaken, and by them it was ultimately, and after terrific struggle, carried to completion. Even Mr. J. J. Hill came in at the outset, but, differing from the rest on the policy of building over the North Shore of Lake Superior and thus having an all-Canadian route, and finding it impossible to serve two masters in two railways that would clash somewhat, he retired soon after the Canadian Pacific Board was organized. But we are not to forget “Jim” Hill, a Canadian abroad, for it was through him that the great triumvirate, Stephen, Smith and Angus, got a taste for railroading and a certain training therein which stood them and Canada in good stead in the stormy days that lay ahead.

It was, in a sense, natural that the men we have mentioned should take hold of the Canadian Pacific undertaking. Some of them, at least, knew the great West-land by actual observation. The others would bank on the statements of those who knew the country. Stephen was the most cautious and so the least inclined to take risks in regard to such a colossal enterprise. But once he entered upon it, we are probably safe in saying that, though he had his hours of depression, he became the mainstay of the Board in the dark storms of difficulty that were at times to settle down on the project during the desperate days that were ahead. All three, Stephen, Smith and Angus, hailed from the land where there is a saying, “A stout heart to a stey bræ.” And these men and their associates were to face, in every sense of the word, “steep hills” in the financial world as well as in actual rock-ribbed obstacles to railway building, greater than any contemplated by the originator of the inspiring saying quoted above. There was to be a time, as we shall see later, when Stephen’s famous cablegram to Smith, in the single Gælic word “Craigellachie” (stand fast), would be needed as a ringing admonition to men in Canada whose resources became so completely exhausted that failure seemed practically inevitable.

In the meantime we have only reached the stage in our story where these men, Stephen, Smith and Angus, reinforced by another highly capable, careful and successful Montreal man, Mr. Duncan McIntyre, at the threshold of the gigantic undertaking, were in consultation with the Macdonald-Tupper administration at Ottawa on the subject. They all sensed the almost overwhelming bigness of the task and, although they were attracted by the challenge of its immensity, and were prepared to accept that challenge, they all realized that they should try to secure the co-operation of the world’s financial centres before they could even hope for success. Hence we find, in the summer of 1880, Sir John Macdonald, Sir Charles Tupper and John Henry Pope sailing for London, in company with Stephen and McIntyre, to interest British capitalists. Englishmen are generally willing to take a “sporting chance” and plunge into an adventurous scheme. But this project of building a railway across the continent through Canada’s far stretches of thinly populated country, with the gigantic engineering problems of the rock region on the North Shore of Lake Superior and the apparently impenetrable barrier of the mountains in British Columbia, was too large an order for the most courageous of London’s money magnates. It is doubtless a good thing for Canada that the delegation had to return from London empty-handed. Projects and business concerns owned and operated by long-range directors and shareholders have never been a huge success in Canada, unless practically conducted by local advisory boards, and railways are no exception to that rule. More important still, this fruitless search for financial assistance put Canadians on their mettle by throwing them back on their own resources at the outset, and thus developing the strength and the endeavour which a big undertaking always brings if bravely attempted. It was a good training in national athleticism, and the young Dominion that had to wrestle with difficulties at the beginning developed astonishing strength and initiative power. Later on, when, within a few months of the last spike on the road, the youthful giant had reached the limit of resource, and was in danger of falling short, British capital was to come in to help to a triumphant finish. But the time was not yet.

The delegation to London returned to Ottawa in 1880, and the Government signed a contract with George Stephen, Duncan McIntyre, of Montreal; James J. Hill, of St. Paul; John S. Kennedy, of New York, and four outside this continent, Cohen, Renach & Company, of Paris, and Morton, Rose & Company, of London, though in the latter case it was really the New York firm of Morton, Bliss & Company that went into the organization. It is interesting from a psychological standpoint to find that the name of Donald A. Smith, one of the big three, was not in this original contract. Ever since the day when Mr. Smith had cast his vote in the House of Commons, in 1873, against Sir John Macdonald in the matter of the “Pacific Scandal,” as Macdonald’s opponents called it, or the “Pacific Slander,” as Sir Charles Tupper designated the affair, there was, to put it mildly, a coolness between Smith and Sir John. For these two to be in the conferences that would often arise between the Canadian Pacific directors and the Government, would throw a wet blanket on the meetings. Later on these two became punctiliously friendly, and even though Mr. Smith’s name was not visibly in this original Canadian Pacific Railway Company, every one knew (including the keen-minded Sir John) that he was actually in it for all he was worth.

The contract terms sound generous enough if we could only keep out of our minds the tremendous extent of the undertaking and the endless risks taken by the new company, in view of the fact that the real cost of the railway from ocean to ocean was almost a haphazard conjecture. Up to the date of the signing of the contract the way through the mountains of British Columbia was unsettled, and the character of the work on the North Shore of Lake Superior was practically unknown. That North Shore problem had frightened Sir Henry Tyler, President of the Grand Trunk, in London, from going into the Canadian Pacific scheme, partly because that eternal wilderness had no prospect of local traffic compared with a line south of the Boundary, but partly also because the interminable miles of rock to be built through looked too formidable to be attacked. Take it all round, the terms of the contract signed in Ottawa may have looked too generous to the man on the street. But only men of courage who visioned the far future would have set their names to a covenant to build thousands of miles of a railway which not only some public men, but some experts also openly declared would “never pay for the axle grease.”

Briefly stated, the Government agreed to give the new syndicate the seven hundred miles of railway already built or under contract to be built by the Government, together with twenty-five millions in money and twenty-five millions of acres of selected land in the West. In addition, the syndicate was promised exemption from import duties on all material brought in for construction, from taxes on land for twenty years after Crown patents were issued, as well as freedom from taxes on stock and other property for all time, together with exemption from regulation of rates till ten per cent. had been earned on capital invested. To guard against premature competition by roads connecting with the States, the Government agreed that for twenty years no charter would be granted to any railway south of the Canadian Pacific Railway from any point at or near the Canadian Pacific Railway except such as should run south-west or westward of south-west; nor to within fifteen miles of the Boundary-Line.

In Winnipeg, in my student days in the 80’s, I recall hearing many rather stormy discussions over this contract at public meetings, because the West was particularly affected. The two things most strenuously opposed, as being too generous to the Canadian Pacific Railway Company, were the grant of land, which was said to be too large, and the section which prevented competing lines being built to the south. Neither of these objections ever seemed to me very reasonable. The land grant looked large; but land was worth very little before the railway came in to make it valuable. In my boyhood I knew that some of the land along the Red and Assiniboine Rivers (and there is no better land anywhere) was sold for fifty cents an acre. If the twenty-five millions of acres given to the railway were valued at pre-railway prices the amount would not be great. When the railway was built the price of land went up with a rush, but it must be borne in mind that it cost the Company millions to bring the railway in, to make the land worth while. And it should also be remembered that the railway made other people’s land as valuable as its own, although the increase to the other people did not cost them anything beyond their ordinary taxes. In any case the land went up when the railway came in, but the railway did not come in by magic. It is interesting to recall in this connection that Sumner, a famous statesman in the American Republic, once advocated giving half of one of the great agricultural States in the West to any one who would build a railway through it, as it was of little use till a railway would enter. What some people in Canada, who denounced the Government for giving twenty-five millions of acres, might have said if the Canadian Pacific Railway had been offered one-half of the Middle West, would probably be too incoherent to print.

We may read later something of the cyclonic protests made in my native Province of Manitoba against the section of the contract which denied to any others the right to build railways south of the Canadian Pacific into the States; but, like many other movements, the one against this temporary monopolistic clause was, to say the least, lacking in proper perspective. The Canadian Pacific Railway Company, to enable Canada to keep faith with British Columbia and thus hold Confederation together, was struggling to build two thousand miles of road over a territory where there was little prospect for years of a paying traffic. It is hard to see that it would have been just, without adequate compensation to the Canadian Pacific, to allow other railways to hamstring the transcontinental by building in the only region where there was population enough to give a railway some reasonably remunerative business.

A rather peculiar thing was that no one objected to the cash subsidy except those who attacked the whole business from end to end, as ruinous to the young Dominion. Reasonable onlookers, however, who knew something of the tremendous cost of construction over certain sections, thought the syndicate was mad to tackle it at almost any price. Later on these reasonable people found justification for their view in the fact that construction was costing in some sections half-a-million a mile—though even they would have gasped if they knew that in after years a single tunnel in the mountains was to cost over eight millions to construct. There were some who considered that the free gift to the company of several hundred miles of railway, built by the Government over a term of years, was too generous. But Canadian Pacific Railway experts in 1889 testified before an Interstate Commerce Inquiry, and said that parts of the Government sections were unwisely located, and the cost of joining up with these unwisely located sections was so great that the amount the sections were supposed to represent should be heavily discounted. It is possible that experts will always differ over this big contract of 1880 which, for years, furnished offensive and defensive political orators with abundant ammunition in party conflicts.

As I write these paragraphs regarding the famous contract between the Canadian Government and the pioneer railway across Canada, I have before me the Dominion Statute of 1881 in which the contract is incorporated. It has some rather illuminating clauses, of which I here quote a few. In the section of the Act in which the Company is required to complete the work by the year 1891, and the section in which the Government is required to complete and hand over certain portions of the railway then under contract, both parties are safeguarded by the words “unless prevented by the act of God, the Queen’s enemies, intestine disturbances, epidemics, floods or other causes beyond control.” That was sufficiently comprehensive to guard against any contingency. There is a very interesting statement at the conclusion of section 7 of the Act, where, after saying that the road built by the company and the portions built by the Government when completed, shall become the absolute property of the Company, the Act goes on to say: And the Company shall thereafter and for ever efficiently maintain, work and run the Canadian Pacific Railway. I think the testimony of all is that the Company is living up to that contract, since its amazing efficiency is the admiration of the world. But the words “for ever” indicate with unconscious frankness that the Government had grown weary of Government construction, ownership and operation of such an immense project, and was devoutly thankful to hand it over for all time to a responsible private organization.

The contract which we have been thus studying had to run the gauntlet through Parliament, and we shall follow its course there and the new programme of railway building by the new Company in the ensuing chapter.

CHAPTER VII
The New Company

When the contract with the Canadian Pacific Railway Company was submitted to the Canadian Parliament, Mr. Edward Blake, then leader of the Opposition, and his party, met it with a chorus of indignant and derisive protest. They declared that the Dominion would be ruined by such a contract and that they intended to fight the matter out before the House and the country. There is no need now to cast any personal discredit on Mr. Blake and his following for their action at that time. He was a man of unblemished name and of intense conviction, as evidenced by many facts in his distinguished career. And, besides, he and the leading men in his following then in Ottawa had already committed themselves at former sessions of Parliament by taking the position that the Canadian Pacific would have to be built by slow stages if built at all. Mr. Blake had not then visited the West, and seriously doubted its future. He and Sir Charles Tupper, who introduced the bill, were the combatant officers of their respective parties over this railway problem. So when Mr. Blake declared an itinerating attack on the Canadian Pacific amongst the people of Ontario, where the Grand Trunk, the rival road, had been long in undisputed possession, Sir Charles wrote asking for an opportunity to reply on the same platform. Mr. Blake answered that he would require all the time each evening, as the subject was a big one. This was true, and Blake’s exact legal mind led him generally into more exhaustive detail on any subject than an ordinary public audience could appreciate. But Sir Charles had girded on his armour for the fray, and found a plan of action by having his friends announce at each of Blake’s meetings that Sir Charles would appear in the same hall the following night to give reply to Mr. Blake. Sir Charles thus had the advantage of having Mr. Blake’s speech in hand a few hours after its delivery, and next night was able to assault Mr. Blake’s position effectively by a characteristic fighting answer.

To complicate matters for the Government, a rival syndicate was suddenly formed of Ontario capitalists, headed by Sir William Howland, who offered to build the railway for three millions less in money and three millions less in land acreage, and at the same time give up practically all the privileges which the Government had agreed to allow the Stephen group. The Government denounced the Howland syndicate as trying to draw a herring across the trail by making a transparently impossible offer in an effort to break the contract already signed with the other company. There is no reason to think that the Howland syndicate, which was composed of well-known citizens of high standing, would not have tackled the building of the railway if they had got the contract. But the Government had already signed with the other organization and, denouncing the offer of the Howland syndicate as utterly impracticable, and intended only to hamper the construction of the road, Sir Charles Tupper rallied the Government forces and put the original contract through Parliament on a straight vote, in February, 1881.

We do not dispute the good intentions of the Howland syndicate; but if the gentlemen of that syndicate really could have seen into the future they would have breathed a sigh of relief when their offer was rejected. They had asked for the contract, but it was a mercy for them that their request was declined without thanks. For if the Stephen men, who knew the country better and had already some extraordinary allies, came up later against so many unexpected obstacles that they were more than once within a hair-breadth of failure, it is safe to say that the Howland men, with their hurried and unconsidered offer, would have ridden for a fall, disastrous alike to themselves and to Canada.

By the action of the Dominion Parliament, in adopting the contract and giving it the force of law, in February, 1881, the field was clear for Mr. George Stephen (who was elected President of the new Company) and his colleagues. They lost no time in unlimbering their artillery and going into action with the bearing of men who knew they were going to have a hard battle, but were moving steadily forward as gentlemen unafraid.

Concerning Mr. George Stephen (who chose his peerage title from the mountain that was called after him in British Columbia, and so became Lord Mount Stephen) much might be written, but he was so unobtrusive that, as compared with others, hardly anything has been put in print about the first President. Mr. Smith, his cousin (later Lord Strathcona), was much better known and more in the public eye, and no one would think of minimizing Mr. Smith’s great achievements and his services to Canada and the Empire. But so far as the Canadian Pacific Railway is concerned, Mr. Smith’s greatest contribution was made when, after getting in contact with Hill, he persuaded Stephen to branch out from business in Montreal and become a railroad builder. Once again in this connection let me emphasize, though it anticipates the narrative somewhat, the peculiar sequence in the chain of Canadian Pacific men and events in the following way: Smith secured Stephen, Stephen secured Van Horne, and Van Horne secured Shaughnessy. It was an extraordinary succession, and every link in a chain that holds is worthy of equal honour. These men were different in many ways, but the truth is that, historically considered, no man ever really takes the place of another, even though he succeeds him. Each man must do his own work in his own way and bear his own burden, and in each man’s assertion of his own individuality we find the true law of human progress. We can standardize inanimate things such as motor cars, but we are essaying interference with the Divine order when we try to standardize men.

George Stephen was the son of a carpenter and was born, in 1829, in Dufftown, Banffshire, Scotland. His youth was not rose-coloured. He was educated in the parish school (the world owes much to many an unknown school-teacher), served for a season as herd-laddie on the glebe at Mortlach, and then was sent to Aberdeen to learn the drapery business. One day a customer from Montreal noticed that the clerk signed his name “George Stephen,” and it turned out that the customer and clerk were cousins. As a result the young clerk was taken out to Montreal and showed such devotion to business and such capacity, that he became President of the great Bank of Montreal when he was a little over forty years of age. He was a man of a high sense of honour and of intense powers of concentration. He had public gifts and could speak well on political and other topics, but all through life he applied himself principally to business and the development of the country. Years afterwards, when the one-time “herd laddie” at Mortlach and draper’s apprentice had become a man of wealth and a peer of the realm, recognized amongst the foremost as a builder of the Empire, he was presented with the freedom of the city of Aberdeen. In his reply to the address of presentation, he shattered some modern theories as to the making of men by saying: “Any success I may have had in life is due in a great measure to the somewhat Spartan training I received during my Aberdeen apprenticeship, in which I entered as a boy of fifteen. I had but few wants and no distractions to draw me away from the work I had in hand. I soon discovered that if I ever accomplished anything in life it would be by pursuing my object with a persistent determination to attain it. I had neither the training nor the talents to accomplish anything without hard work, and, fortunately, I knew it.” All of which would be a good motto for every young lad to paste in his hat, so that he would see it frequently. It is well also to remember that Sir George made good use of the wealth he gained in later years by laborious effort. His benefactions were wide-spread, amongst them being the contribution of half-a-million, to go with a like amount from Lord Strathcona, into the establishment of the Royal Victoria Hospital in Montreal. And when Dr. Barclay retired from St. Paul’s Church in the same city, it was Lord Mount Stephen who supplemented the donations of others by a princely gift in bonds to the minister of his Montreal days.

It was this great man, George Stephen, then, who became President of the new Canadian Pacific Railway Company in 1880, and continued in that responsible office for the eight most critical years of the company’s struggle to live and conquer. On him, in the grim days ahead, was to rest most heavily the burden of financing, although his cousin, Mr. D. A. Smith, was forward in securing the help of financial magnates at every opportunity. The time was to come when these two were to pledge all their private possessions to keep the Canadian Pacific going on to completion. I think it worth while to say here that none of these men seemed to care about money as an end, although they appreciated its value as a means to achievement. They had no reason to go into the Canadian Pacific Railway undertaking to make money, for when they began it they all had enough. In fact it is well known that some of them demurred strongly at first for fear they would be left penniless in their old age. But they were all amenable to the appeal for the building of Canada, and that was sufficient. In this connection it is interesting to recall that on May 26th, 1887, Mr. Smith (Strathcona) said in the House of Commons, “The First Minister will bear me out when I say that Sir George Stephen and the other members of the syndicate did not approach the Government with regard to the building of the Canadian Pacific Railway until the Government had tried in Europe and elsewhere to get others to take it up, capable of carrying it through, but had not succeeded in this. I say distinctly that the gentlemen who undertook the charter, although at first unwilling to assume the responsibility, ultimately consented, more with a view of assisting to open up the country than from any expectation of gain to be derived from it.” It is equally interesting to note, in this same connection, the attitude of Mr. James J. Hill, who once wrote to an old Canadian friend saying, “I think you know that I am not anxious about the money part of it. I am sure I have all and more than all I will ever want and all that will be good for those who come after me.”

It was in this spirit, then—that of Empire-builders, rather than money-makers—that President Stephen and his associates took up, in 1881, the tremendous task of building the Canadian Pacific Railway across the Dominion of Canada. It was the wide West-land that had called the transcontinental into the orbit of public vision, and though, when Eastern connections would be made, it was inevitable that the headquarters of the road would be in Montreal, where the leading directors lived, offices were first of all opened in Winnipeg. Canada, as already noted, was young in the railway business. Later on she would find her own men for leaders in every department, as we know by this time she has done. But in those days Canada had to go to her big cousin, the American Republic, for railway experts. And so Mr. A. B. Stickney, who was later President of the Chicago and Great Western, was installed as General Superintendent in Winnipeg. With him came, as Chief Engineer, General Rosser, who had been a dashing Confederate cavalry officer in the Civil War. Those were my school days in Winnipeg, and I recall seeing Rosser once—a man of very distinguished bearing. But, for various reasons, neither he nor Stickney remained long, though I confess I never pass the little station of Rosser just west of Winnipeg, but I visualize again the tall, handsome Southerner after whom it was called in those early days.

When these men were going, Stephen turned again to his old friend Hill, who knew all about railroad men, and Hill recommended William Cornelius Van Horne, then General Superintendent of the Chicago, Milwaukee and St. Paul. This was another of Hill’s great contributions to his native Canada. Though these two strong men, Hill and Van Horne, eventually became rivals and heads of practically opposing systems, they doubtless, to the end, recognized the consummate ability of each other. If they had to contend at times they could at least realize

“That stern joy which warriors feel

In foeman worthy of their steel.”

In any case, Hill’s commendation of Van Horne to Stephen in 1881 was whole hearted and emphatic. Hill said that of all the men he knew Mr. Van Horne was altogether the best equipped, both mentally and every other way. A pioneer was needed, and the more of a pioneer the better. And to this Mr. Hill added, in his message to Stephen, “You need a man of great physical and mental power to carry the line through. Van Horne can do it. But he will take all the authority he gets and more; so define how much you want him to have.” This last was a well-meant—and somewhat necessary admonition. Mr. Stephen then offered Van Horne a bigger salary than any one in a similar position had ever received in this country. I do not think that the salary was the main thing with Van Horne. Neither would I say that he did not take it into consideration. He was such a many-sided man that he seemed like several men. He could be lavish in entertaining or spending for things that he specially fancied. But he could be close in other ways. No doubt the unprecedented salary was, in his mind, worthy of thought. And one cannot wonder at that, because he was asked to give up a high position in the railway work of the States, with a presidency certain there in a few years at most. He was, in fact, staking the prospects of a career on his decision in favour of moving. But he did not decide to move without some idea of the prospects of the country to which he was invited. So he made a sort of incognito visit to Winnipeg, and took some survey of the vast plains. He saw the possibilities of unlimited grain and root production, and noted the practically inexhaustible soil along the Red River, where the Selkirk settlers had been sowing and reaping for three-quarters of a century. It is interesting to find here, as noted by writers on Van Horne’s life, special allusion to the Selkirk settlers. These settlers were stated in an early chapter of the book to be a factor in leading to the inception of the Canadian Pacific Railway undertaking, as they had demonstrated the agricultural possibilities of the West. And they are mentioned by Van Horne’s biographer, Mr. Vaughan, as one of the elements whose demonstration of the country’s suitability for the world’s foundation industry helped to draw to Canada the extraordinary man who, in the face of apparently insuperable obstacles, threw a railway line across her wide-flung spaces.

One wonders yet at the fact that Van Horne left an assured career in his own land, the richest country in the world, to come to the Canadian West, which was then, and for some years afterwards, as I recall it, a sort of illimitable and sparsely inhabited wilderness. He came to undertake a railway building project such as neither his own country or any other in the world had ever planned in similar circumstances. No doubt he, with the keen mentality which flashed out in many varied gifts, foresaw the country’s future. But no doubt also, as his biographer above-mentioned affirms, and as men, like Sir George Bury, who were intimately yoked up with him in practical work on the road declare, it was the difficulty of the work that successfully appealed to him. The fighting spirit of his imperturbable and determined Netherlands ancestors rose to the challenge of the opportunity, to satisfy what Mr. Vaughan calls his master passion “to make things grow and put new places on the map.” So, after visiting Winnipeg and the plains, Van Horne accepted Stephen’s offer and came from the States to become a great Canadian who, without forgetting his lineage, grew into a deep devotion to his adopted country.

Reference has been made already to the many-sidedness of this colossus amongst railway builders. Once, many years after his coming, I recall meeting Mr. Van Horne at a dinner in Lord Strathcona’s house in Montreal, when nearly all the leading business men of their group were present. I happened to be in the city at the time, and as Lord Strathcona and my father had been close friends in the old Fort Garry days, he asked me up to that dinner. Gentleman of the old school that he was, with the courteous manner and considerateness of the perfect host, he asked Mr. Van Horne to show me through the picture gallery. I had known Mr. Van Horne in a general way as a forceful railroader who had begun in railway work at the age of fourteen, and knew it from the ground upwards in practically all departments, and I also knew something of his taste in art. But I was hardly prepared for the wealth of the acquaintance with painting and literature which his conversation, in easy, flowing language, revealed that evening. And yet this was the same Van Horne who could make men quake with the strength of his invective against incompetency or carelessness in work, and who was apparently at times a mere impersonal dynamo for the purpose of driving seemingly impossible enterprises to completion. There was something more than Napoleonic in the way in which he abolished the word “fail” from the dictionary as he drove his undertakings onward. And yet again he was an inveterate player of practical jokes, and was, on occasion, a sort of big boy with a sufficient spice of fun about him to keep things from becoming dull. If he knew how to work he also knew how to relax, and that is a great thing.

It was this composite man, then, who, at President Stephen’s call, threw up golden prospects in his own country and came up to Winnipeg on New Year’s eve in 1881, to take practical command of a vast new problematical enterprise. His powers may have been defined by Stephen and his associates, but the definition must have been very much tantamount to a free hand, as the sequel will show.

CHAPTER VIII
A Constructive Genius

Mr Van Horne, who was a native son of Joliet, Illinois, struck Winnipeg just as 1882 was dawning, and the thermometer was ranging around forty below zero. Those of us who were born in or near Winnipeg can testify that in such an hour the ozone makes one tingle with energy, and leads to an active life as a natural consequence. Van Horne was an embodiment of driving power anyway, and perhaps the stimulating atmosphere raised that power to a high algebraic degree. Certain it is that every one around Winnipeg, especially in the service of the new railway, realized that a human projectile had been shot into the community and that things had to move on under its impulse or move out of the way. So distinctly was this felt, that not only was the climate rather frigid, but the social atmosphere around offices and clubs took on a certain degree of coolness. That any one should come in from the outside and, after a brief survey, should start in to make swift changes and equally swift appointments, regardless of social or political influence, was not likely to make the man who so acted a general favourite. But in a short time the marvellous efficiency of the man commended him to everybody worth while. His bigness in ignoring any prejudice against him, his hearty, magnetic and utterly unaffected personality, soon won the respect of his men in all ranks and he in turn came swiftly to have a high respect for the courage, ability and initiative of the Canadian people. For a while he had to have around him some experts from his own country, like that Master-Superintendent, John M. Egan, whose ability as a practical railroad builder was a great asset to the new enterprise. But Van Horne soon had a small army of Canadians in training under his own leadership, and to them he became deeply attached. It is now, at least, an open secret that when men back in the States heard that his reception in Winnipeg was rather cool they sent him word “to come back to your friends and let the Canadians build their own road.” But Van Horne, knowing that his own brusque entry and method laid him open to some blame for the situation, and knowing also the solid worth of the people to whom he had come, declined to return. Again, a few years later, when the Canadian Pacific Railway project seemed on the point of failure for lack of funds, even though the Directors had put their all in the great venture, some one said to Van Horne that he need not worry, because there were positions waiting for him across the line any time he wished to go there. But he stood by his guns and said that he was not going back to the States—“I’m not going to leave the work I have begun. I’m going to see it through, no matter what position is open to me in the United States.” The time was to come, however, when even the iron nerves and the tremendous staying power of this apparently stolid and determined scion of the Netherlands were to be tried to the limit, and when Van Horne found in Canadian men the invincible spirit which made their joint work a sort of miraculous success.

In the meantime, when he had done some highly necessary things in Winnipeg, in that fateful year of 1882, he went down to Montreal to meet President Stephen and the Directors. No doubt there was a mutual “sizing up” of each other, but with satisfactory results. The President and Van Horne took to each other at once, and became thenceforward the two that did the most perfect team work. But they could not have pulled the enterprise far without the steady, persistent co-operation of the other Directors. They all got into the harness and they all fell in with the Western teamster’s homely prescription for success: “Keep the tugs tight; never mind the hold-backs.”

Thenceforth Van Horne became, till the completion of the Transcontinental, the trusted railway expert and, in this regard, completely supplanted Hill, who had been the only man of the original Canadian Pacific Syndicate who was a practical railroader. Under the leadership of Van Horne, Canada would now begin to grow her own railway men as a home product.

One of the items taken up on the occasion of Mr. Van Horne’s first visit to Montreal was the construction of the Railway over the rock-wilderness on the North Shore of Lake Superior. The Mackenzie Government, as we have seen, thought that section could wait for a somewhat indefinite period, and in the meantime Mackenzie said that the great fresh-water sea could be used as a link in transportation. Then, when the Stephen-Hill Syndicate was formed, both of these gentlemen agreed with the policy of not constructing that section until there was more settlement in the West. But Stephen and Hill, not believing in the tardy water-stretches as links in railway construction, proposed to build from the East to Sault Ste. Marie, and there join up with a branch of Hill’s road, the St. Paul, Minneapolis and Manitoba, to which, as the architect of their fortunes, they were financially and otherwise attached. This of course would have given Hill, in large measure, the control of Canadian traffic from East to West.

It will be recalled that neither Sir John Macdonald nor Sir Charles Tupper, his fighting Railway Minister, approved of this American link in the road, and that in England they had broken with Sir Henry Tyler, of the Grand Trunk, on that particular point. And when Van Horne went east to meet the Directors in 1882, he made short work of the plan which both Stephen and Hill had cherished. He felt that to give Hill’s road the haulage of through Canadian traffic over a section of his track would make the Canadian Pacific a sort of subsidiary of his line, and such a situation was abhorrent both to Van Horne’s railroad instincts and to his estimate of his ability to run his own road. In a proper sense of the word Van Horne was always egoist enough to assert his own dignity when occasion required. In fact he would let no man rob him of the opportunity of boasting on any occasion when it seemed legitimate and necessary. Hence, when he met the Canadian Pacific Directors, at that first meeting, he drew for them a verbal picture of what the traffic on an all-Canadian route from ocean to ocean was to be in the future, and by the time he was through his visualizing, the President and the other Directors let this new General Manager have his will. Van Horne was no half-way man, and when he started out to build the Canadian Pacific Railway he was going to put emphasis on the word and idea of Canadian. The day was to come when, despite some partisan and political mud-throwing, all true Canadians would acknowledge that the big railroader was right. Of course, this action of Van Horne and the Directors was, as already intimated, the last straw for Hill. He was too keen and clear-headed a man not to understand that he and Van Horne, with their big projects more or less competitive, could not work together to advantage. So he withdrew with some emphasis, but we are not to forget that he made railroaders of Stephen, Smith and Angus, and that through his recommendation, Van Horne came to Canada. The Canadian boy, James J. Hill, who had left his home in Rockwood, Ontario, to seek his fortune in the States, and become a maker of its North-West, also did, for various reasons and motives, a good day’s work for his native land.

When Van Horne met the Directors in Montreal they discussed also the momentous question of the route to be followed. When Sandford Fleming was Chief Engineer during the regime of the Hon. Alexander Mackenzie, the line was mapped out to cross the Red River at Selkirk, thence westward through the North Saskatchewan country, crossing the Rockies by the Yellowhead Pass, and so on to the Pacific. But the Canadian Pacific Railway Company, in 1881, decided for a southerly route through Winnipeg, and across the plains and then through the mountains by the Kicking Horse Pass. For the most part the engineers preferred the Yellowhead Pass, on account of the comparatively easy grades and fewer obstacles in the way. Van Horne favoured the Kicking Horse Pass and the Directors agreed to that also, although up to that time there had been no pass discovered through the Selkirk range that lay right beyond the Rockies like an impregnable rampart. But if no pass was found through the Selkirks, the track might be laid in a more roundabout way along the Columbia. Once again these men were making a big venture under the leadership of Van Horne, who seemed to be having pretty much his own way at the Board meeting. The Directors had secured him at a large salary because he was a practical railroader, and they were evidently going to give him opportunity to earn it by letting him assume heavy responsibility.

The change of route from the Yellowhead to the more difficult Kicking Horse Pass has been much discussed and, in some considerable degree, criticized. But there were weighty reasons for the change as Van Horne saw them. The transcontinental route from the East through the Kicking Horse Pass was one hundred and twenty-five miles shorter that the other, and that is an item, when the costs of construction were considered, as well as time in the trip across the continent. Besides that, the Kicking Horse route, if adopted, would preclude the possibility of any railway building between the Canadian Pacific and the boundary-line and thus draining traffic towards the States. The great valleys of the Kootenay, the Columbia and the Okanagan were more accessible by the Kicking Horse route, and such valleys are supreme in productiveness in British Columbia. And I am not sure but Mr. Van Horne, with his strong sense of the artistic and the scenic splendour of the southern route, felt that in the future it would, as a tourist route of unequalled attractiveness, become one of the greatest and most remunerative assets of the Canadian Pacific Railway. The supremacy of the Kicking Horse route in that regard has been fully recognized by world-travellers. The famous Sir Edwin Arnold, author of “The Light of Asia,” who had been in practically all countries, one day said to Mr. Castell Hopkins, of Toronto, as they met on a Canadian Pacific Railway train in the Rockies, “These vast ranges exceed in grandeur the Himalayas, the Alps and the Andes, all of which I have seen.” The matchlessly inspiring scenery of this route will always remain to make it an irresistible magnet to tourists and travellers generally. For the rest of it, any problem in gradients will vanish at any time desired, by the lowering of grades and electrification, if ever the situation demands such action.

Before leaving the Kicking Horse Pass discussion, it may be interesting to some of our readers to relate the origin of this striking name. When I first went down along the river I recall some one on the train who told his version by saying that the name was given to the river because as it rushed down the grade it was constantly thrown back in splashing spray by the rocks, as if by the kicking of a horse. This is a poetic description of a very turbulent stream where the rocks look vicious enough to kick anything to pieces that might be hurled against them, but it is not the real origin of the name. The prosaic fact is that when, in 1858, Capt. Palliser and Dr. (later Sir James) Hector were exploring the region they were leaving the camp by this river one morning and Hector, while trying to round up a straying packhorse, was kicked in the chest by his own riding horse as he was passing him. Hector was laid up in the camp for several days, and the incident was so impressed on the explorers that they anathematized and immortalized this lively animal by calling the river and pass after him.

When Mr. Van Horne went back to Winnipeg from the meeting of Directors in 1882, things looked well around that Western gateway city because the advent of the Canadian Pacific had given rise to a real-estate boom whose intoxicating influence had gone to people’s heads so that they were all hilariously rich, at least in imagination, and, therefore, indomitably optimistic. This phase of undue excitement passed, but Winnipeg is my old home city, and hence I am able to testify that in no city with which I am acquainted was it so true, as it used to be said of the people of Winnipeg, that “they lived on hope.”

However, it remains true also that the collapse of that famous Western real-estate boom, the crash of which affected every place from the Great Lakes to the mountains, made the task of the Canadian Pacific Board and Mr. Van Horne an exceedingly difficult one right at the outset. The sudden deflation in Western land values and the large number of business failures through the recession of the boom wave shook the faith of outsiders in the country’s future and depressed the people within the country at the same time. I have known the West all my life, but I do not recall any period more generally discouraging than that after-the-boom period in the 80’s, during which the Canadian Pacific Railway was begun and carried to an amazingly successful completion. The sudden drop in everything, as well as the rumblings and then the outbreak of the Riel Rebellion on the plains, put, in large measure, a damper on immigration; and railway building through an uninhabited land is not exhilarating work.

These were local conditions, but there were other things which sprang up at the very beginning to make the way of the new railway company hard. A few of these things may be indicated for the benefit of the superficial people who think the Canadian Pacific got an easy start. In reality it had from the first to fight every foot of the way against adverse influences. When the Company had to do its financing it found influential forces barring the doors. The Grand Trunk, with its host of big Directors and shareholders in the Old Country, attacked the new transcontinental which would be sure to invade its rich reserves in Eastern Canada; and so the London market was, in large measure, cold to any efforts made by the new Canadian Pacific Board to raise money in the world’s financial centre. Similarly the United States railways which were headed for the Pacific saw the danger of a successful Canadian rival, and did all they could to prevent the Canadian Pacific from securing any money in New York. With hostile forces thus operating in these two famous money centres, any one can understand that the new Canadian venture was in for a bad time. And we have to add to all these barbed-wire fences around the money markets abroad, the regrettable fact of almost constant nagging and criticism in Canada from sources of such wide range as the “will-never-pay-for-axle-grease” politicians, and the men who wished to cut in with the railway lines in productive territory while the Canadian Pacific was struggling to cross leagues of unpeopled rocks and plains, not to mention the people who thought the new road should benevolently carry everything for them at bare cost.

Keen-minded men like Mr. Van Horne and the Directors of the Canadian Pacific, saw that the way ahead bristled with difficulties. But they declined to quail. They had started on a great adventure and they were looking far ahead so steadily that they were saved from morbid contemplation of what lay between them and the final triumph. Their attitude toward the unproductive Lake Superior North Shore rock-wastes was typically prophetic. Despite the derisive critics who always have ridiculed the inception of big undertakings, the Canadian Pacific Railway men looked beyond the North Shore to the West-land that would someday become the granary of the Empire. Thus did they keep their courage alive. Like a famous warrior of old, they refused to see the intervening difficulties while they knew that across somewhere was the land of promise and the triumph that was worth a great struggle to attain.

When Van Horne left that meeting of Directors in Montreal he hurried back to Winnipeg with the fire of a great railway-building battle in his eye. He felt he had the support of a strong and determined body of men, and they were fully satisfied that they had in Van Horne a man worth backing. They all began to realize very vividly, from the attitude of the financial world as above outlined, that the fabled achievements of Hercules would have to be made real in the building of the road. Van Horne, as the practical builder, set his mind on his own side of the work. His energy had been pretty well tested out in the States, but he knew perfectly well that anything he had done hitherto was child’s play compared to what he was now going to attempt. I was much interested the other day in coming across an item somewhere which suggested that, some years before, Van Horne had been contemplating building a railway in the Western States to tap the Canadian North-West. The vast unpeopled territory, labelled on his map, “British possessions,” appealed to his pioneering and adventurous spirit. It was the land of romance and mystery and of illimitable possibilities, where he could blaze new trails and build steel highways over a territory bigger than half-a-dozen European kingdoms.

And now his opportunity had come in an unexpected, but better, fashion, and, as stated, he set his mind upon it with a sort of terrifying concentration. He found that Government contractors in 1881 had built some 160 miles of railway on the plains. He told the Directors in Montreal that he would build 500 miles on the prairie in 1882. He started in to do it and looked to the Directors to pay the bills. Some years after it was all over Van Horne said one day, as a tribute to the President, “Stephen did more work and harder work than I did. I had only to build the road, but Stephen had to find the money.” Those who remember them both are ready to say that the honours were even. Each did his part well and each had many helpers.

In view of the fact already stated, that Canada was new to the railway-building business, it is surprising to find that Mr. Van Horne brought very few assistants from the States. Besides Egan, who did most excellent work in construction days out of Winnipeg, Kelson of the Milwaukee road was brought to be general storekeeper at Winnipeg. There was urgent need of a key man in Montreal to be the general purchasing agent for the whole road. And as everything had to be purchased for a new undertaking an altogether unusual man was required. Besides other supplies, the man who came as purchasing agent would have to be a sort of quarter-master-general to feed an industrial army spread out in a long line from East to West and with practically no line of communication along which to transport the necessaries of life. For that position Mr. Van Horne had his eye on a young man named Thomas G. Shaughnessy, who had been on his staff in Milwaukee. Mr. Van Horne had opened up offices over the Bank of Montreal on Main Street in Winnipeg. “One day,” says Mr. E. A. James, who was then Mr. Van Horne’s private telegraph operator, “there came into the outer office a fashionably-dressed, alert young man, sporting a cane and giving general evidence of being what we call a live wire. He asked for Mr. Van Horne and gave his name as Shaughnessy. I looked up Mr. Van Horne in another office and gave him the message. He said to the gentleman to whom he was speaking, ‘I am glad Tom has come; he is the man I want for general purchasing agent.’ ” And thus another notable star swung into the orbit of the new company. But beyond these just mentioned to take hold at the beginning, Mr. Van Horne said no one else was needed from outside, as the new General Manager found Canadians so full of initiative and energy that he had no difficulty in getting men of calibre and zeal without going beyond the Dominion.

Incidentally it may be mentioned that a fire took place in the building during that winter of 1882, and the offices of the railway and the Bank had to be moved to temporary quarters in the old Knox Church building. There Mr. Van Horne occupied the vestry and Mr. I. G. Ogden, who became famous as auditor and finance minister for the road, held office space in the library of the Sunday school, while the bank itself did business in what had been the main auditorium of the church. The quarters were unusual and not very convenient, but the atmosphere would be good.

It was still winter of the year in which Van Horne had said he would build 500 miles of the road on the prairie. He had to wait for the spring’s approach; but meanwhile he was stacking up supplies at Winnipeg, “from the ends of the earth,” as people there said, and in enormous quantities—rails from Britain and the Continent, ties from the woods east of Winnipeg, stone from every available quarry within reach, lumber from the Minnesota country and from the Lake of the Woods. Much of this came in during the frozen months by rail from the south, and the yardmen in the States were delighted to send along whole trains of material for “Van Horne’s road” as they called it. The main thing was to get the stuff forward. And Van Horne kept the wires hot in seeing that there would be no delay.

He became suddenly the organizer of an army—not for destruction, but for construction—a great mobile force which was to move steadily forward under the direction of his genius and daring. That army was to use high explosives and unbounded physical energy, but it was with a purpose to enrich and not to devastate the country. It was to use ploughshares instead of swords, but its victories were to be certain and enduring. The fight was to be hot and at times the line would waver, but there would be no retreat. It will be interesting to follow that army with two such leaders as Van Horne as the master builder and Shaughnessy as the matchless provider of supplies.

CHAPTER IX
Crossing the Prairie

In 1882, when Van Horne began to swing his cohorts of contractors and their men into the struggle to build a half-thousand miles of railway westward beyond Winnipeg, the Red River went on an angry rampage and flooded out the city and the surrounding country. This was somewhat of a damper at the beginning and, as the sequel proved, it clipped a few miles off the anticipated record. But a record was made notwithstanding. Experienced railway contractors were required, and Van Horne brought Langdon & Sheppard from St. Paul and gave them the work of building from Oak Lake in Manitoba straight across the plains to Calgary. This was a large order, and the contractors evidently knew it, for they startled the community by advertising for an army of three thousand men and four thousand horses. Those who recall conditions at that time will readily concede that there was no unemployment problem abroad in those busy days. No one worth while needed to be unemployed when Van Horne was forcing an undertaking to completion. And to make quite sure that things would be properly completed, this railway building enthusiast organized a large gang of men under his own orders who would follow up the contractors and give the finishing touches after the aforesaid contractors had complied with the literal requirements of their agreement to lay the steel. One can readily see that this flying column of Van Horne’s would keep the contractors moving ahead rapidly, lest the flying column should be treading on their heels and remarking on their tardiness. And one can see also that this follow-up work would lead to the soundness of the road-bed for which this pioneer railway was noted from the beginning. Construction was amazingly rapid, but there were no chances taken in regard to the safety of the road.

And so these thousands of men and horses were feverishly, but systematically, at work on the plains, where not many years before the buffalo had roamed with earth-shaking tread. The ploughs and scrapers of this great constructive army were making their way through the buffalo wallows and casting up a high grade where once the Red River cart had worn deep ruts in the rich black mould. Some of us recall busy days on the farms or the hayfield, riding and working on the plains, and, as boys, we had sometimes a feeling that the time of labour was unduly prolonged. Hours of work were not limited in those days, except by darkness and dew at either end of the day. But Mr. Van Horne’s army became unlimited as to time, because there were relays working in the night, building bridges and culverts and laying track when conditions allowed—a sort of sleepless army that moved on without cessation. In this way some three miles a day were finished enough to allow the construction trains to follow up with their gigantic loads of material and food for men and horses. In the spring-time there was not much grass for the horses, and all grain had then to be imported to a country which is now the greatest grain-exporting region in the world. Trainloads of stuff were constantly passing over United States roads all the way from the New York seaport, and hundreds of checkers reported on their whereabouts every day, so that they could be counted on by a certain time. All this matter of material was in the wonderfully capable hands of Mr. Shaughnessy, whose brain worked with such unerring activity and precision that supplies were kept up to the minute. Shaughnessy’s office in Montreal was as great a hive of industry as was Van Horne’s moving army on the plains. And men learned, as they had never learned before, that brain and brawn were both necessary to the carrying on of the world’s business and that these are mutually dependent on each other. Capital, labour and management are the inseparable three in the material success of great undertakings, and when the world discovers how these can co-operate and share the results in proper proportion, we will have industrial peace and progress on the earth. That vast army of road-makers on the plains would have been helpless without the directing minds of the men who were the brain centres that kept all in active movement, and the converse is equally the case. And a certain nation that has recently experimented in a new social order by destroying or exiling its men of brain is the outstanding warning of our time against such suicidal folly.

During this period of prairie construction there was something almost uncanny in the way in which Mr. Van Horne seemed to be everywhere. Now in his office in Winnipeg and now on the plains, riding on flat cars or hand cars or in cabooses or, where the rails were not laid, in wagons and buckboards over the prairie. He knew railroading from the ground up and did not hesitate to ventilate his views forcibly if necessary. He would discharge, off-hand, men who were indifferent to their work or who were disposed to shirk carrying out his orders. He sometimes ordered the impossible; but he expected men to try the impossible without question. And yet there was, withal, a heartiness, enthusiasm, magnetism and energetic competency about the big chief that commanded the admiration of the men. They admired his courage and nerve in going on inspection trips, where, despite his weight, he walked ties and trestles at dizzy heights and did other daring things. His practiced eye could calculate what was dangerous or otherwise. One day he asked an engine-driver to go across a ticklish-looking place and the driver demurred. Van Horne, who could drive an engine as well as anyone, said, “Get down and I will take her over myself,” and the engineer had such faith in Van Horne’s judgment that he said, “If you’re not scared I guess I aint,” and over he went to the other side.

Under this energetic and unquestioned leadership of Van Horne who, at the same time, saw that the men had abundant food of the best quality obtainable, there was record railway building accomplished on the plain in 1882, there being in one place a phenomenal register of twenty miles in three days. But the handicap of the Red River flood in the spring had delayed operations, and it began to look as if the promised 500 miles of road in 1882 would not materialize. Van Horne called the engineers and contractors together and, metaphorically speaking, read them the Riot Act and demanded that they get on with the work at a faster pace. They declared they were driving to the limit, but that the estimate could not be reached. Van Horne threatened to cancel their contracts unless they would bring in more men and horses and get ahead. This the contractors did and with the added equipment they worked till stopped by the winter cold. Even then Van Horne brought up his flying column and continued until nothing more could be done on the frozen prairie. Then on taking stock it was found that, counting sidings and a section on the South-western Branch in Manitoba, the estimate had been passed, although the actual work on the main line showed about 445 miles, with some more graded ready for the spring. The whole thing was looked on as phenomenal and all the railway world wondered. The Company Directors in Montreal were delighted, and they, in turn, delighted the Dominion Government by declaring that, instead of taking ten years as allowed by the contract, to complete the road from ocean to ocean, the Canadian Pacific would be in operation across the continent in little more than half that time. When one considers that the part of the road built up to the end of 1882, being across the plains, was the easiest section, and that the Laurentian rock wilderness around Lake Superior, as well as the ramparts of the vast mountains, had still to be attacked, the fearless optimism of the Directors and their whirlwind railway builder was amazing. But the work that had been accomplished showed the Government and the people of Canada that things of an unprecedented kind in railway annals were being done in their new country. And it also created in the hearts of people from sea to sea such a feeling of nationhood that they began to realize the illimitable possibilities of Canada. To such an extent was this true that when, later, a day came in which the Company needed the reinforcement of Government backing to carry through the project in the face of unexpected and gigantic obstacles, that temporary backing was finally given with the general approval of all but a few chronic opponents of the road. No thinking person now ever affirms that the Government was wrong in the emergent action taken at a crisis time in the history of Canada.

When the spring of 1883 opened Van Horne was facing the problem of building on the rocky North Shore, finishing the prairie section and then storming the bastions of the mountains which seemed to frown defiance against the invader of their sublime precincts. The North Shore came first of the new sections, as the prairie region could be left to the ordinary routine now that it had gone so far towards the foothills, and would proceed as a matter of course on into the mountains. It was not comforting in that anxious hour to the Directors of the Canadian Pacific and to Van Horne, who had declined to accept any alternative to the North Shore line, to find that, to head off help from financial men, both they and the people who would back them in their big undertaking were held up to ridicule by a Grand Trunk pamphlet issued in London, the money centre of the world. The famous pamphlet practically stated that to build, under the contract, a railway across the North Shore of Lake Superior, was a piece of madness, and hence that men of finance who backed it should be looked after by their friends. It was not comforting reading for the Canadian Pacific men at that particular juncture, but it was a good answer later on to those politicians and agitators who talked as if the Canadian Pacific had despoiled the Dominion in order to build their transcontinental road. The Grand Trunk pamphlet said that the country north of the Lake was a perfect blank even on the maps of Canada. All that is known of the region, it said, is that, “It would be impossible to construct this one section for the whole cash subsidy provided by the Canadian Government for the entire scheme.” Thus out of the mouth of a hostile witness there is evidence that the Canadian Pacific Railway subsidy, as outlined in the contract, was considered utterly inadequate, even by men who were making special study of railway undertakings.

In reality the Grand Trunk pamphlet was, in so far as the cost of construction was concerned, based upon a pretty sound conjecture. The cost of the North Shore was terrific and, doubtless, there and at other places, many a contractor discovered that unexpected difficulties had upset his calculations. It is worth while to say here, as applicable to the whole undertaking, that, though the contractors did not know it during the period of their work, the Canadian Pacific, on discovering that a contractor had lost seriously, began investigation with the desire to give a square deal. If they found that the contractor had taken reasonable precautions with his estimates and calculations, but had met with conditions and obstacles beyond his power to have foreseen, or to control when they arose, the Company, without any ostentation, took steps to save deserving men from loss as far as possible. No company in commercial life can be a benevolent association in the ordinary sense, nor can it be reckless with the funds of shareholders who have invested their money in its undertakings. But from the beginning, the Canadian Pacific, while bearing all that in mind, made a reputation for dealing with men, in all matters, in a big way, till, with the passing of the years, there was built up a tradition which made mean and small things a positive contradiction of the Company’s policy.

Mr. Van Horne did not require to read the above-mentioned Grand Trunk pamphlet to learn about the difficulty of building on the North Shore of Lake Superior. He knew all that a great deal better than the pamphleteer. The North Shore was a big problem. But as Sir Charles Tupper, the war-like minister of Railways, once said of this railroader: “No problem that ever arose had any terrors for him.”

Van Horne, therefore, went ahead. He attacked the problem from the great lake whose north shore he was going to iron down or fill up to a level roadway for the steel track. He decided, therefore, that for the most part he would not build far back from the shore even though tracklaying might be easier there, for he wanted to land supplies for the work by water transportation. This would be cheaper and would facilitate distribution. In order to carry out this plan he acquired the Toronto, Grey and Bruce Railway, and thus made connection between the East and the Lake at Owen Sound. From that point he had steamers to carry the supplies and land them at certain distances along the North Shore. When the winter set in, these supplies were distributed by horse and mule teams and even by dog-trains, where the snow and the ice on the little lakes off the main shore permitted. With the advent of the summer, small boats on these little lakes, and wagons elsewhere, were used to distribute endless loads of material along the right of way.

Though supplies were thus on hand, it was 1884 before tracklaying on the North Shore was regularly in operation. We get some idea of the immensity of the work and the tremendous energy that had to be put forth to complete it when we find a great host of 12,000 men and 5,000 horses at work on this section as well as a tracklaying machine to relieve the gangs, who found it almost impossible to do track labour in the ordinary fashion, on account of mosquito-infested swamps encountered here and there. Van Horne imported this machine from Chicago. It was new to the French-Canadian track-layers, and its almost human action seemed to them rather uncanny; but they soon adapted themselves to its operation and found it a valued ally. There was an enormous amount of blasting to be done, and to lessen the cost and the danger of importing the high explosives necessary, three dynamite factories were erected to produce the supply for distribution to near-by points. Despite every possible care exercised in this regard, it was inevitable that in such an army of men there would be a good deal of danger in the handling of explosives in the ordinary course of their duty. They knew the danger, but they went on steadily with their work. In consequence there was such considerable loss of human life along that wild section of the railway that those who now enjoy the pleasure and the profit of travel and traffic by the picturesque inland fresh-water sea of Superior, ought to recall that the splendid road-bed was laid, not only at vast cost in substance, but with much sacrifice of that infinitely greater thing, human life. And “if peace hath her victories no less renowned that war,” there is no real reason why we should unfairly discriminate between men who have, in the course of duty, given their lives in the one or the other sphere. And there is no reason why we should not value equally the possessions that have come to us by the sacrifice of men in the ways of necessary industry or in the struggles of unavoidable war.

As the work proceeded on the North Shore, some new methods were introduced rather unexpectedly. We say unexpectedly, because there had been very little work done before that time in Canada over similar territory. The process of levelling rocks down was found to be practically impossible, on account of the great expense and time involved in the effort. So the plan of levelling up was tried with excellent results. Wooden trestles were built in a great many places between the rocks. Then the construction trains came over and dumped broken stone until the space below was filled up with the best possible material out of which to make a safe and durable road-bed. In order to get the material for this process, great quarries were opened up all along the line, whence crushed rock was taken to find the new and excellent use just mentioned.

Of course all this tremendous expenditure of labour and capital on the North Shore gave the critics of the whole Canadian transcontinental railway idea a new opportunity. Capt. Palliser’s report as to the impracticability of a railway across the continent on British soil, Mackenzie’s idea in regard to using the water stretches for transportation as links in a trans-continental system, as well as the early Stephen-Hill plan of linking up with Hill’s line at Sault Ste. Marie, and thus having traffic between East and West in Canada go for some few hundred miles through the States—all these arguments were brought out to support the statement that Canada would be ruined by such wild schemes as building a railway section across the barren waste of rock on the North Shore. These persistent endeavours to block the work of construction were having their pernicious effect in sowing the seeds of discontent throughout the Dominion. And, what was much more serious, these statements, sown broadcast in the Old Country, made London centres of finance dubious in regard to the judgment of the railway directors who would undertake such an exceedingly difficult piece of work. This means that the raising of money in London was practically impossible. British investors have always been venturous enough and will, when Empire interests are in the balance, be ready, for patriotic motives, to take some special hazards. But in this case they were being told by mischief-makers, not only that the North Shore section was outrageously expensive, but that, according to the honest opinion of as great an authority as Sandford Fleming, it should not be constructed with the hope of making running expenses until the West had a population of three millions. It had then not many thousands. And the British investors were being also informed by opponents and rivals of the Canadian Pacific that no Imperial interests would suffer if the North Shore construction was postponed indefinitely and traffic allowed to go through the States according to Hill’s suggestion. Even the contractors and the men on the North Shore began to lose heart, as men will who are being made to feel that they are engaged in a work that is not only dangerous and unnecessary, but likely to prove unprofitable should the Company become insolvent through the terrific expenditure. And these men began to lose even the incentive to endeavour when they were also told that they were engaged in a task which resembled the mythological case of Sisyphus, who was condemned to roll a great stone up a hill only to have it always slip at the top and roll down again. No man likes that endless and fruitless prospect in his work. Nor does he like working on a tower which will have to be left uncompleted for lack of means.

But amid all this discouragement Van Horne remained doggedly determined to make an all-Canadian line and to build the railway on the North Shore. He doubtless used some strong language in regard to the hostile and the faint-hearted, but he pushed ahead with the stolidly unemotional will-power of his Dutch ancestry. As his ancestors in Holland had successfully dyked against the inroads of the ocean, Van Horne defied the seas of pessimistic and hostile criticism to inundate his life and put out the fire of his purpose. Then in the midst of this struggle an opportunity came his way. And his keen brain seized upon it with the swift precision of a steel-trap in action. One Louis Riel, who had stirred up a rebellion against Canadian authority in 1869, and had been hybernating in Montana for the intermediate years, began stirring up another revolt in the Saskatchewan country in 1884. Those guardians of the North-West, the Mounted Police, scattered over the vast area in small detachments, had notified the Canadian authorities ten months or so before the actual outbreak came in March, 1885. It seems now as if much of the information they gave was tied up in a bundle with red tape and pigeonholed by civil service officialdom in Regina. However, that is not part of our present story, beyond our saying that it looked at one time, to those of us who were on the ground, as if the whole Middle West, with its thousands of war-like Indians, would in a short time be swept by a prairie fire of rebellion which would leave ruin and desolation in its wake. It was vitally necessary that in such an event there should be, without delay, an overwhelming demonstration of force made by the Canadian authorities. Riel was sending his runners through the half-breed settlements and Indian camps, telling these primitive and uninformed people that if they all rose they could drive the Canadians off the plains and have these vast spaces for themselves and the wild game again.

Mr. Van Horne, who had been up and down the prairie part of his line frequently, had been watching the rising cloud of discontent amongst the half-breeds there. He did not worry over the political aspects of the situation, but he saw that if the Indians were to be drawn into revolt there would be a general devastation over the whole country. He at once saw the possibility of demonstrating to the country the value of the railway as a carrier of troops to the West, if necessity arose. He pointed out to members of the Dominion Government that the Company would in such a contingency have a strong claim on the Government for help in the financial crisis to which, by reason of the tremendous expenditure in construction, he saw the road to be swiftly and inevitably heading. A member of the Government told Van Horne that the possibility of having to send troops to the West would undoubtedly put a new face on any application by the Railway to the Dominion for a loan to tide them over their difficulties.

It was only the brilliant and marvellously resourceful work of Shaughnessy, in Montreal, in this period that was making the continuance of the work possible, and that was preventing impatient creditors from launching proceedings against the Company. Thinking “as if his brain were packed in ice,” this consummately cool and alert purchasing agent seemed to make a thousand dollars grow where there was only one before. The thousand dollar amount was not actually there, but he handled the situation as if it was visibly in existence. He promised and threatened alternately. He made partial payments and told creditors that if they pressed unduly the Company would do no more business with them. He gave notes and arranged collateral with such extraordinary skill that, so far as I can find, no claim for money due in the ordinary way was ever brought into court, and no note ever signed by the Company ever went to protest. But despite Shaughnessy’s masterly handling of the situation, things were desperate enough, although Stephen, Smith and Angus were pledging their private property and turning over their private investments to keep things in operation.

And now the mountain section had to be completed. More millions would have to be found somewhere. No one seemed to know where to replenish the empty treasury, and the mental strain on the members of the Board was terrible. The fight against rocks and swamps and mountains waged by the Company and contractors and men was fierce enough, but it was not to be compared with the constant battle that had to be waged by the Directors against heart-breaking and nerve-shattering financial conditions, for years after the signing of the original agreement with the Government of Canada for the building of the road. In the next chapter we shall study this particular phase of the subject for a space.

CHAPTER X
Battling for Life

We can say at once, in explanation of the financial struggles before mentioned, that the Canadian Pacific Railway was constructed to a finish across Canada in a period of monetary storm and stress. Leaving out of count the early years when the successive Governments were building short stretches here and there, in a way so leisurely that no financial difficulties occurred, beyond the ordinary impecuniosity which haunts all Governments, the period from 1881 to 1885 was pre-eminently a difficult time. During those years everybody was having what men on the prairies call “hard sledding”—an expression taken from the experience of travel with sleighs when the thaw has left bare patches on the plains. On those patches the sleigh runners catch with a disheartening tenacity and impede progress. At such junctures it is fortunate if there are several men travelling together, because by “doubling up” their teams, they can get over the otherwise impossible gap. Life is full of opportunities for mutual helpfulness, and the great railway which now spans the continent and bridges the oceans found itself more than once, in the construction period above mentioned, at the end of its resources and had to call on the Dominion Government for temporary assistance. It was a case where “doubling up” became necessary if the hard places were to be traversed. We are not sure that the Government was as willing and ready to assist as the ordinary good-natured and open-hearted teamster used to be on the prairie. But even a Government, which should be cautious because it handles trust funds for the people, may be brought to see when an unforeseen expenditure can be and must be made, in the interests of the people themselves. In this particular case of the Dominion Government and the Canadian Pacific Railway the Government would not and did not at any time give even a temporary loan till it had made the most exhaustive investigation into the whole problem. There are some facts so outstanding that even a superficial investigation could find, without much delay, why the Company required and deserved temporary assistance by way of loan during the construction period in a trying era.

It should be remembered, to begin with, that the principal men in the Company, Stephen, Smith and Angus, were men of practically independent means before they entered on railroading with Hill in St. Paul. In their association with Hill, owing to causes set forth in a preceding chapter, they had become very wealthy in a short time and hence did not have to take up any further work of the kind. Of worldly goods they had enough and to spare and might have reasonably, from their own standpoint, have continued the even tenor of their ways in their ordinary and familiar occupations in Canada. But Sir John Macdonald, as soon as he knew that their wealth had become great, and that they would be looking for new avenues for investment, approached them with an appeal to undertake the completion of the Canadian Pacific Railway. It was the biggest railway construction project in the world, and the proposal to build the road, except by slow stages, was characterized, not only by prominent public men, but by some well-known experts, as sheer madness. Stephen, as we have seen, was not disposed to go into such a huge undertaking at all. There was no mercenary reason why this already successful trio should make this hazardous attempt. However, the appeal of patriotic duty to their country, as well as the fascination of immensity in task, finally drew these Canadian men into the enterprise. And once they took up the matter it is well-known and can now be told that they put not only themselves, but all they had, into the determination to carry it through to a successful issue. Hence they deserved the commendation of the country and not the condemnation, for their gallantry.

Twice the Company had to apply to the Government for either loan or guarantee of bonds and during the months when these matters were hanging in the balance, the founders of the Company and the General Manager and Purchasing Agent, as well as other responsible officials, passed through what can be truly called, agonizing experiences. To these experiences they gave utterance at times. It is anticipating somewhat and disregarding sequence for the moment, but during those years we have it on the word of friends that Stephen returned one evening to the Russel House after a vain effort to get Sir John A. Macdonald to say that he would recommend that a loan should be made. Stephen, upon whom, as President, there was unusual strain, threw himself into a chair in the rotunda and when an acquaintance passing the time of day said, “How are you?” Stephen, without looking up, replied “I feel like a ruined man.” One day he shed tears in the office of Mr. Collingwood Schreiber, not because he cared for himself, but because it looked as if the whole great project of the Canadian Pacific was going to a crash that would block the future of Canada for a time at least. On another night Mr. Stephen, after a hopeless sort of interview with the Government, came down the Russel House stair grip in hand and told Senator Frank Smith, a gallant friend of the railway, that he was going to Montreal to make a personal assignment of all he possessed. Even the redoubtable Van Horne wired frantically one day that the pay car could not go out because there was nothing in it! On another day he said to Mr. Schreiber at Ottawa, “If the Government does not help us we are finished.” And shortly afterwards, meeting Sir John Macdonald in the corridor, he said, “Sir John, we are dangling over the pit of hell and ruin.” On another occasion, when the Directors were in session, the Chairman said, “Gentlemen, it looks as if we had to burst——” But Donald A. Smith looked hard at him and said, “It may be that we must succumb, but that must not be as long as we individually have a dollar.” And it is related that he went out and raised on his personal security enough to meet pressing accounts which Shaughnessy said had to be paid at once.

My impression is that Donald A. Smith, with that craggy head and beetling brow of his, was the most doggedly determined Director of them all, though less able as a financier and diplomatist than Stephen, to whom, generally speaking, those who know the history of the road quite properly give endless credit for his masterly work as President of the Company. After writing the preceding sentence, I came across the following statement by Sir Charles Tupper, who himself did so much to carry the great project through. He said in 1897: “The Canadian Pacific Railway would have no existence to-day, notwithstanding all the Government did to support the undertaking, had it not been for the indomitable pluck and energy and determination, both financially and in every other respect, of Sir Donald Smith.”

I can quite understand some reader putting in a question here, as to how it was that men of such ability, after having estimated the cost of constructing the Canadian Pacific, found themselves at the end of their resources within two years of their taking the contract. It is not enough to say, although it was true, that there was an immense amount of unexpected expenditure in battering the way through the Laurentian rocks on the North Shore of Lake Superior, and in boring a road through the mountains of British Columbia. There were other causes for the hard circumstances that came upon the railway. The chief reasons for the financial difficulties of the Railway Company, beyond what has been already indicated, lay in the facts that, succeeding the boom inflation in the West in 1881, there came a very serious depression all over the country. On account of this, immigration fell far short of what was expected. In consequence, both freight and passenger traffic was very scanty. The Railway Company, for the same reasons, could not realize anything worth while on its land, which was for the first ten years a drag on the Company rather than an asset, as can be readily ascertained by a study of the question. Thus the two main sources of expected revenue failed to materialize. In addition, the threatening discontent of the half-breed population which culminated in the Riel outbreak, further discouraged the incoming of settlers. Resolutions, passed unwisely at conventions in Manitoba, warning immigrants not to come until there were other railways linking up with the States, being used by immigration agents for other countries, created a bad impression as to the Canadian West. And because investors abroad were also influenced against the Canadian Pacific at the financial centres of London and New York, by certain rival railway interests, the assets of the Canadian road could not be turned into money. In this connection it is well to recall again the bitter “Disallowance” agitation carried on against the Canadian Pacific, chiefly in Manitoba, all through the construction period. There was persistent effort made by that Province to charter local railways, mainly linking up with the United States systems, despite the clause in the Canadian Pacific contract with the Government to the contrary. The charters granted by Manitoba were promptly disallowed by the Dominion Government, mainly, first, because of the contract with the Canadian Pacific, second, because money could not be raised to build the main line of the Canadian Pacific if the productive areas along that road should be tapped by rival roads, and, third, because it was contended that the East had made tremendous sacrifices to build the road and that on that account Western traffic ought to go over the North Shore to build up the Eastern part of Canada, rather than go southward to build up a foreign country.

The Canadian Pacific, in self defence, would not yield to the granting of rival charters, and the Dominion Government said they would keep faith according to the terms of the contract. But Manitoba would not be appeased and made many attempts, even to violence, to break the “monopoly” clause. I recall passing on a Canadian Pacific train to Southern Manitoba, and seeing large forces of men at a point where a road from the south was striving to cross the Canadian railway. A Canadian Pacific locomotive on a switch hastily constructed, barred the way and some 200 men stood beside it to prevent the crossing. The agitation checked immigration, and produced altogether a condition exceedingly harmful to the West for a time. But the Canadian Pacific was clearly within its rights and this was part of its battle for life during that period.

One cannot remember that fiery era without recalling how fortunate it was for the Canadian Pacific Railway that its Western representative was William Whyte, a princely type of man, whose courage, imperturbable coolness and inflexible determination made him a tower of strength. People might fight the railway, but no one of right mind could dislike William Whyte, whose high character and immense personal popularity with all classes, including especially all employees of the road, made him unassailable. Leaving much of the administration of his office to men like the genuine, and diplomatic, “Jim” Manson, Whyte (who was knighted later for his services to the Empire) gave much time to the “disallowance” problem, and to preventing open trouble as far as possible. But there was general satisfaction when Manitoba, under the continued work of men like John Norquay, Thomas Greenway and Joseph Martin, in the local Government of Manitoba, persuaded the Dominion authorities to cancel the “Monopoly” clause by giving the Canadian Pacific compensation. The whole agitation, however sincere, had greatly hampered the development of the country, and crippled very considerably the efforts of the Canadian Pacific in a confessedly difficult period of wide-spread depression.

Some railways in the wealthy country to the south were, for various reasons, going into the hands of the receivers during the construction period of the Canadian Pacific. So that, despite the consummate ability of the Canadian Pacific financiers, it is small wonder that the Company saw bankruptcy looming up ahead. Even Stephen and Shaughnessy could not make bricks without straw. And all the time Van Horne was driving ahead with construction at top speed. He knew the situation, but declared that any stoppage or even slackening up would lead to the Company being pounced on by creditors, who would wind it up. His view was that the whole undertaking must be kept alive as a hopeful, going enterprise, and that its position would improve immensely when it, refusing to acknowledge defeat, spanned the continent to the Western seas. Even then, Van Horne, as after events proved, had his eye on trade with the Orient as a great feeder to the road. So he went ahead, and let the others find the money, though at times he took a hand, in his trenchant way, in letting the Government know what he thought of the whole situation.

It was late in 1883 when the Canadian Pacific, which had been keeping the facts before the Government at Ottawa, made formal application for a loan of twenty-two and a-half millions to ward off failure. The situation was desperate, but the Government, which had a lively recollection of the fight put up against the original contract, was afraid to risk defeat by granting the request. The security offered for the loan was to all appearance ample, as it included a lien on the Company’s main line, the branch lines in Manitoba, and the unpledged land grant. In addition they gave the astonishing pledge that they would clip five years off the contract term and finish the road in 1886. Sir John Macdonald, who always kept his hand on the public pulse, knew that people in the East were being persuaded by the Parliamentary Opposition that the West was being developed at the expense of the East. Men in his own cabinet and many of his supporters in the House, were being infected with that idea, despite all efforts to make them see that, in the long run, the development of the West would be an immense gain to the East. Sir John, with the prospect of a divided cabinet, possible defection amongst his own followers in the House, as well as the bitter attitude of the Opposition and the likelihood of a revolt in the country against the granting of the loan, was indisposed to yield. Things looked black for the Canadian Pacific. Stephen was utterly discouraged after interviews with Sir John, and it was on one of those occasions that he was giving up and leaving Ottawa for Montreal when Senator Frank Smith prevailed on him to wait over till they would have a midnight interview with Sir John. Even that interview seemed fruitless till Mr. John Henry Pope went to Sir John and told him that if the loan was not granted, the Canadian Pacific would go to the wall, the Conservative party would go with it, and all Canada would be in a panic. Sir John did not want to smash Canada nor the Conservative party, and he explained that he was personally in favour of the loan and would try to get his Cabinet and party united in an effort to put it through the House. This was enough for Mr. Pope, who knew Sir John’s powers, and at two o’clock in the morning Pope returned to the well-nigh despairing Stephen and the rest, and uttered simply the tonic words, “Well, he will do it.”

In the meantime Sir Charles Tupper, who, while still holding the portfolio of Minister of Railways, was in London as High Commissioner for Canada, had been cabled for to come to the rescue. He left for Ottawa at once and, on arrival in Canada, found everybody at their wits’ end. He got Mr. Miall, the expert Government accountant, and Mr. Collingwood Schreiber, the highly respected and able Government engineer, to work on the Railway Company’s books in Montreal. They reported everything satisfactory, and Mr. Schreiber, whose word went a long way, recommended the granting of the loan.

But there was still the task of getting the Cabinet united on the subject, and the caucus of the Government members in the House into a favourable and unanimous attitude. Fortunately for the Government and the Canadian Pacific and the country at large, the Cabinet had in its number the rare personalities of the magnetic and diplomatic Sir John Macdonald and the formidable, fearless Sir Charles Tupper, who made a sort of irresistible combination. Sir John could sway by the conciliatory eloquence and the appealing personal touches which held the devoted allegiance of his party to the “old Chieftain” through many extraordinary vicissitudes in his long career. Sir Charles could marshal arguments with the consummate forensic power of which he was a master, and thus became a veritable regiment of storm troops to carry his points and reach his objective. These two men solidified their own party and, despite a fierce resistance from their opponents in the House, the Bill authorizing the loan was carried, as Sir Charles said, “at the point of the bayonet.”

This relief gave the Company a new lease of life and the work, which had never slackened, even though men had to wait for their pay, was forced ahead by the aggressive Van Horne, while Shaughnessy handled every dollar with such consummate skill that it seemed to do the work of two. But the terrific expenditure in construction on the North Shore and through the mountains, caused the twenty odd millions to melt like snow before the sun. Smashing the rocks and levelling up the chasms on the North Shore and finding a sure foundation in shaking and almost bottomless morasses which sucked down material like an insatiable undertow, all meant enormous unforeseen expenditure. The Company would not allow any careless work and, if necessary, the contractors would stay at one spot for months till the road-bed was absolutely secure. Van Horne was rushing to complete the railway, but he was too thorough a railroader to sacrifice security to speed in construction. Expense was of no consequence. He was going to “get the work done right and send in the bills to Stephen and Shaughnessy.”

Just at the juncture when the railway seemed in imminent danger of coming to a sudden halt because its coffers were again bare, and the Government was afraid that the country would not stand for any more assistance to be given to what some thought was a wild commercial venture, an event occurred which threw the Canadian Pacific into the limelight as an undertaking of immense Imperial value. That event was the Riel Rebellion, which Van Horne had foreseen as a possibility and concerning which he had warned the powers at Ottawa when he told them that if it did occur, he would carry troops from the East to the prairies in the space of a few days. Sir John Macdonald and the Government, with a strange pertinacity, born of the mysterious red tapeism of Regina officialdom, refused to think such an event possible. However, it came with sudden and deadly emphasis when at Duck Lake, in March, 1885, on the North Saskatchewan, a small force of civilians and police suffered heavily in a sort of rebel ambuscade. Fifteen years before, this same Riel had, at Fort Garry, run amuck, and then it had taken six months for the soldiers under Col. Wolseley, coming by land and water, to reach the scene. Now, in 1885, with the Lakes frozen and no chance of going through the United States with armed men, the whole middle West might be swept by the carnage of semi-savage rebels on the war path. The time had come for Van Horne to play a winning card, and he played it. The Government made frantic appeal to him because months before he had intimated his willingness to help in such an event. But before their appeal was actually known to the general public, Van Horne had trains ready with steam up at the centres in the East where troops would make their points of departure. He knew that there were gaps on the North Shore and that there would be hardships, but to reduce these to a minimum he stipulated that he and Shaughnessy and the Railway Company officials should have complete control of both transportation and commissariat. He always believed, for he had proven it by many a test, that when men were well fed with nourishing food and stimulated for special effort with strong black coffee, they could do and endure greatly. And so he would not leave the soldiers to the tender mercies of inexperienced quarter masters with meagre supplies on the bleak North Shore of Lake Superior.

In one or two places the soldiers had to march along the shore-ice on the lake. In other places they were taken by teams and sleighs, or else on flat cars over some hastily laid track. They had what might well be called a hard time over part of the way, but soldiers do not expect luxury on active service, and they got through in fewer days to Winnipeg than it had taken of months to accomplish in Wolseley’s expedition, years before. From Winnipeg the troops, with their Western comrades, were distributed by rail and trail over the plains as far as the mountains, and the rebellion was soon quelled. From that day the most fiery opponents of the North Shore section of the Railway, the chief point of critical attack, found their calling gone and had to subside. Some of them would still oppose the whole system through force of habit, but the extraordinary and unexpected service rendered by the Railway in a crisis time would make it comparatively easy for even a cautious Government to give temporary help to the Company, with the consent and approval of the grateful Canadian people. Not only so, but the Canadian Pacific Railway had thus suddenly become of such significance and value as an all-British route across the North American continent, that men in the Old Land who believed in the continuance of the Empire, realized as never before that a new factor in Imperialism had come into history. This railway was seen to be, not only a commercial transportation company which traversed a portion of an overseas Dominion, but a great link in the chain of an Empire that girdled the earth. It would no longer be ignored in the financial circles of London, where the centre of Empire stood.

Meanwhile, right on through the rebellion, the work was being pushed ahead in the mountains, although it was not generally known then that the Company at first had boldly thrust its spear-head against the embattled hills without very definite knowledge of how it was to get through beyond the Rockies. The Kicking-Horse Pass showed the way, along its flashing, frothing river, through the Rockies, but for some time there was doubt about how the Selkirk Range was to be pierced. So anxious was the Company about this problem that Mr. Sandford Fleming, the famous engineer, was summoned by cable from the Old Country to look into the situation. He journeyed by train to Calgary and went by trail through the Kicking Horse, but just then Major Rogers, a hard-bitten, adventurous man, acting on some information given by Walter Moberly years before, discovered the famous pass called Rogers’ Pass to this day. Rogers was an American engineer who, with his son Albert (after whom Albert Canyon was called by Principal Grant of Queen’s University, Secretary to Sandford Fleming on his journeys), had explored amid much hardships to find a pass through the Selkirks. When he did find it, the Company was so pleased that a bonus cheque for $5,000 was sent to Rogers. A few months afterwards Van Horne met Rogers and reminded him that he had never cashed the cheque. Rogers, who was well educated, but rough at times in temper and language, evidently had abundant sentiment withal. For he replied, “Do you think I would cash that cheque? I was not out there for money, but to have a hand in a big project. No, sir, I have that cheque framed in my brother’s house in Waterville, Minnesota, where my nephews and nieces can see it as a token of some work their old uncle did in his time.”

Contractors who became famous later on in various ways were at work on the mountain section. The work on the prairies had been child’s play compared to it. A good old Scotch elder who came in to see me at the Coast twenty years ago was amazed at the enormous task that had been accomplished. In political life in Manitoba he had attacked what people called “the ruinous expenditure” on the road. But he said to me then, in 1903, in Vancouver: “Now that I have seen it I wonder that men ever undertook the work at any price, and so far as I am concerned I am through with criticism of the expenditure on construction.” And then the good man added, “The fact is that if the good Lord had not bored through the mountains with rivers, there is not enough money in the Empire to build to the Coast.” There was much in what this honest man said that day.

The expenditure was almost incredible. Where the rivers ran, there was, for miles on end, the necessity for cutting into the solid rock to get room for the road-bed and trains. There were miles of snowsheds to be built, and tunnels through solid rock almost without number. Up the mountain sides there were built various devices to protect the road and make it safe from slides and avalanches. Rivers were deflected from their channels and retaining walls were built. When I first passed over the road, not many years after it was opened, there seemed to be leagues of trestles, now filled in or replaced by steel or tunnels. Everywhere there was need for the ceaseless flow of millions of money. But Van Horne, who knew all about the business, saw that nothing was left undone to make the road beyond criticism. And so well was the work done that once, shortly after the road was completed, Van Horne, who was taking some arbitrators over the mountains to value the government construction section, had the engineer run over fifty miles an hour to show these gentlemen “that the Company section was a real railroad even if the government sections were not.”

It was no wonder that with the vast expenditure indicated by the above paragraphs the Directors saw that they must raise some more millions or perish.

Accordingly, in 1885, when the Riel Rebellion, by reason of the service rendered by the Canadian Pacific Railway in transportation of troops, had been quelled, Stephen approached the Dominion Government again for assistance. The rebellion services of the railway had solidified the Government support in the House, which was then in session, and had pretty well silenced the Opposition. The assets of the Railway were already subject to a lien for the former loan, but the Government, besides a few minor concessions, finally allowed the Directors to issue $35,000,000 stock, of which it was to guarantee $20,000,000, the rest to be issued by the Railway Directors. Stephen went to London, not very hopefully, to sell this bond issue. The Directors in Canada waited anxiously to hear the result, for the bankruptcy of the road and of the Directors (though they cared less for that) was only hours away if Stephen’s mission failed. Sir Charles Tupper, then High Commissioner for Canada in London, that steadfast friend of the road, had done some most effective preparatory work with the famous banking house of the Barings, of which Lord Revelstoke was the head. Stephen had scarcely begun his explanation of the situation when Lord Revelstoke broke in and said, “We have been looking into the whole matter already. We are satisfied with the outlook in Canada and the future of the Canadian Pacific Railway, and will take over the whole issue of your stock at ninety-one.” Stephen was overjoyed, because the question of the solvency of the great railway was settled for all time. He sent an exultant cable at once to Canada. Mr. Angus and Mr. Van Horne were in the Board Room in Montreal when it was delivered. They read it with a sort of glad surprise too deep for words. They were matter-of-fact men, but they shook hands with some emotion. Then they threw some of the chairs about and danced around the room. The relief to the tension had come and they had to relax somehow. They were human.

They knew in that hour that the road would be completed. And out along the line in the great mountains there would be a station called Revelstoke. And where the steel met from the East and the West, there would be another station named “Craigellachie,” after the Gælic cablegram meaning “stand fast,” which Stephen, as we have already recorded, had sent to his cousin, Donald A. Smith (Strathcona), in the dark days some years before. The name would remind succeeding generations of the men whose steadfastness was like unto that of Craigellachie, the unshaken rock in the old glen of Strathspey.

CHAPTER XI
Ocean to Ocean

As we have followed the story of railway construction across the continent, over the North Shore, athwart the vast plains and on into the mountains, our eyes have been on the Western sea. It was to win and hold the illimitable spaces of the North-West that the Canadian Pacific was first conceived, and it was specially to link up British Columbia with her sister Provinces to the east that the iron horses were being driven on steel trails to drink on the sunset shore of Canada.

But we must always keep in mind the fact that this railway was to be transcontinental in its extent, and that it was down by the Atlantic, first of all, that men who saw visions and dreamed dreams forecasted its great destiny by land and sea. They saw it spanning the continent, continuing across the Pacific, and finally, under one system, girdling the globe. Others, earlier, made conjectures and expressed vague hopes, but the most clear and confident note of prophecy was sounded by Joseph Howe at Halifax, in 1851, in the famous speech quoted in our first chapter. Later, in the old Province of Quebec, where in a sense Confederation was first definitely outlined at the Conference of the Fathers of Confederation in 1864, this prophetic note was taken up and rendered more emphatic. Thus were the Atlantic statesmen planning ahead.

Moreover, it is interesting to recall that it was Mr. Sanford Fleming, the engineer of the Intercolonial, peculiarly an Atlantic Railway, who was called on to explore a railroad way to the Pacific. It was his secretary on that expedition, the brilliant and versatile Rev. (later Principal) George Munro Grant, then of Halifax, who made the expression “Ocean to Ocean” current coin in Canada, by publishing a book under that title. And still another Halifax writer, Robert Murray, immortalized the expression, by composing a remarkable hymn with the same designation. Thus were the oceans early linked prophetically by patriotic seers and mystics.

Just now I am looking at the realization of these dreams as portrayed in a unique picture which ought to be found on the wall of every school in Canada. This picture is commonly called “Driving the last spike,” and to the superficial observer, unacquainted with the history of the Canadian Pacific, it means simply the act of joining together the steel rails which met at a given point in the mountains, as the track-layers, working from East and West, finished their protracted task. But, in reality, it means much more than a single isolated act along the progress of the years. It is a composite deed into which is merged and concentrated a long series of astonishing achievements wrought by men of brain and brawn. It represents many mental, moral and physical forces converging into a climax which could only have been attained by the persistent, determined efforts of those who believed that obstacles are thrown in life’s pathway in order that men may wax strong through the overcoming of them.

In this picture, “Driving the Last Spike,” there is nothing to suggest “the shouting of captains and garments rolled in blood.” But for those who will study and enquire, it holds the story of victory snatched from the jaws of defeat, by a gallant constructive army whose mission was not to destroy but to build, for the welfare of a nation and lands beyond its borders. That is why I say it should be on the walls of our schoolrooms, in order that teachers might relate to young Canadians the story of an amazing accomplishment on the fields of peace.

Just how amazing and how dangerous was the task of building through certain parts of the mountains, not far from the scene portrayed in the picture, may be gathered from the experiences of the engineering staff. As I am writing I recall that Mr. Noel Robinson, a Vancouver newspaper man who deserves much credit for his work in connection with the work of old-timers, elicited once from Mr. Henry J. Cambie, who put the road through the Fraser River canyons, a few words on the subject. Mr. Robinson says: “In response to some pressure as to the difficulty of laying out the work—apart altogether from the difficulties of construction—Mr. Cambie admitted that these were great. Mr. Cambie spoke particularly of the Cherry Bluffs section, and said that quite a stretch of it was laid out by a few men, as there was only room for a few to work. Two agile men, with experience on sailing vessels, sprung ropes from rock to rock or from tree to tree. Then a few engineers, steadying themselves with these ropes, went along in their bare feet to lay out the work, with a precipice and then Kamloops Lake, of unknown depth, down below them. Mr. Cambie admitted that he was one of these engineers. One of the engineers, Mr. Melchior Eberts, in 1881, while climbing over a bluff covered with snow and ice, slipped and fell head first down a steep slope, to his death.” Speaking of the difficulties, Mr. Cambie went on to say: “We had to increase the curvature beyond anything we had ever seen up to that time on a main line of railway, and in order to get round the face of some of the bluffs we had to construct what we called grasshopper trestles, that is, trestles with long posts on the outside, standing on steps cut in the rock, and on the other side a very short post, if any, because very often we had half a road-bed. These things have since been done away with and their places taken by retaining walls.” In my own conversation with Mr. Cambie he has spoken to me feelingly about the loss of life through the canyons of the Fraser during construction days. Practically all the work was through rock which had to be dynamited in places where it was very difficult to get shelter when shots were fired. Men were drowned also here and there along the river. Thus again we are reminded that this battle in time of peace was only won, like other battles, by great sacrifice. These are things we must never forget when we enjoy the results of the struggles of others in our own or earlier days.

The spot at which the last spike was driven was named Craigellachie, as already intimated. The story of the name has not always been correctly told in this connection, beyond saying that the word was sent as a cablegram from Stephen to his fellow-directors in a crisis hour to encourage them not to give way, though the position seemed hopeless at the time. The expression is in reality not one word, but two, Craig Ellachie. This was the name of a grey rock in a Scottish glen, the home of a famous clan. And the legend is that when the clansmen went forth to war, the windswept pines and heather on the lonely hilltop whispered to the forth-going men the war-cry “Stand Fast, Craig Ellachie.” And now, in a new land, at a place where rails met through the steadfast persistence of these Scottish men and others, the mountains heard the echoing blow of the hammer which is in the forefront of the picture, “Driving the Last Spike.” Contrary to a general impression, created by the importance of the occasion and by some writers, the last spike was not of gold, but iron, like the other millions of them that had been driven all along the line. The event itself was so intensely dramatic that it needed not any conventional setting to give it éclat. Mr. Van Horne, who was not disposed to waste in any case, perhaps felt that iron was more significant of the spirit in which determined men had accomplished the apparently impossible. And so he had said in a matter of fact way, which was in itself abundantly thrilling: “The last spike will be as good an iron spike as there is between the two oceans, and any one who wants to see it driven will have to pay full fare.” The Directors who had passed through the fierce fire of the economic struggle to build the road could not afford, without a sort of sacrilege, to have anything conventional to bring people from the ends of the earth for the occasion. There was grim, but splendid, simplicity about the ceremony that was profoundly appropriate under all the circumstances.

It was on November 7th, 1885, that the rails met in the Eagle Pass section of the road, and a group of men alighted from the train to be present when the last spike would be driven. By general concensus of opinion, the hammer to drive it was placed in the hands of Donald A. Smith. It was a great honour, but worthily bestowed on the white-haired veteran and victor in a hundred fights against obstacles. It was a far cry from the little village of Forres, in Morayshire, to the way station of Craigellachie in the mountains of Canada. But Donald A. Smith, the lad who had left Forres with all his worldly possessions in a carpet bag, and endured cold and snow-blindness in the Labrador till he rose to the higher places in the Hudson’s Bay Company, had now come to stand on Canada’s pioneer transcontinental steel trail and drive the spike that would link up, into a true Confederation, the scattered Provinces of the Dominion.

Mr. Smith had not done much manual labour in recent years. But he was no stranger to physical toil. While in Labrador he had run with his dog trains in winter, and in summer cultivated an astonishing garden and farm, which was a surprise to all who visited the bleak locality. So, despite the years that had elapsed since that time, Smith swung the sledge hammer with a will that day, and the iron spike was driven home to forge a new link of Empire. I have been listening in imagination to the echoes of the hammer-blow through the passes and along the mountain sides, and thence around the seven seas of the Empire. For this was a right royal event, which evoked swift messages from good Queen Victoria, the Marquis of Lorne, and many others who recognized the enormous Imperial significance of what had taken place in the heart of the great mountains under the Red Cross flag. And the day would come when a great war was to break suddenly over the face of the world. In that day of the Empire’s danger she would realize, even more vividly, the value of this Canadian transcontinental road which, by the time of that war, had transformed the Middle West of Canada from a wilderness into a vast storehouse of food supplies. In that day of war the Canadian Pacific would transport by land and sea hundreds of thousands of soldiers and labourers to the sphere of conflict, and, from its own employees, would furnish for the safety of the Empire not only a large quota of fighting men, but some of the most expert railway builders and transportation officers in the world. All this was wrapped up potentially in the thrilling incident of driving the last spike at Craigellachie.

So once more I look at the picture. The camera could not take in a large group, but it is representative in some fair degree of the men who made the event of that day possible. Tracklayers and sectionmen, engineers and contractors, superintendents and Directors, and others, were present, for they all had a share in the victory. Some of them I can pick out in the crowd; others are to me unknown. Some one, whose face is hidden by a bystander, is holding Donald A. Smith’s overcoat, for the veteran had taken it off in order to swing the hammer in workmanlike fashion. The tall figure of Mr. Sandford Fleming, his beard and hair white with the snows that never melt, is conspicuous near the foreground. He will be remembered as the engineer-in-chief who blazed the way through the mountains in the early days, and who, though not then on the staff as engineer, was called from the Old Country in 1883 to help in finding a way through the Selkirks. After retiring from the engineering staff he became a Director of the Company and so remained to the end of a distinguished and highly useful life. Other engineers whom I see in the group are Marcus Smith, a quite remarkable man who had general charge of the Coast section; Major Rogers, the famed finder of Roger’s Pass through the Selkirks; and Henry J. Cambie, who put the railway through the Fraser River canyons, one of the most picturesque, but one of the most difficult, portions along the line. Van Horne did not always love the engineers, whose care in location did not entirely chime in with his ideas of speed in building. But after letting them know his mind in emphatic language, he recognized the sphere of their responsibility, and, after discussing other possible ways, let them have their way if they made out a case. The three above named were near enough to be present at Craigellachie on that eventful day, but they represented a band of very gallant men in the same vocation—men who often ventured their lives in the dangerous places they were investigating. Representing the contractors, who were a legion, we find in the group James Ross, who had much building to do in the mountain section, and who had witnessed many difficulties in dealing with a large army of men of many nationalities. Generally speaking it can be said that the contractors gave themselves with enthusiasm to their work, and the Canadian Pacific was the training school for a host of young Canadians in the business of railway building. In after years many of these men became famous in railway work. Their ambitions, begotten and intensified by their experience on the pioneer transcontinental road, led them into very large enterprises of their own in the same line. Some of their undertakings were premature, in view of Canada’s population, but some day they will enure to the benefit of the country.

While speaking of the contractors, one would like again to say something of the thousands of track and tunnel men, represented at Craigellachie that day by the hundred or two on that section at the time. Their lot had not been easy as they toiled on through summer’s heat and winter’s cold. Every effort was made to the end that they should be well fed and sheltered, where possible, but certain hardships which were inevitable were for the most part cheerfully borne. In the dark days they had to wait for their pay, that being true of all the employees at times. But these men had faith in the big enterprise and took their share of the hard times, saying, as did one business man on the North Shore, who had several thousands coming to him for supplies, “Van Horne will put this thing through and I will wait.” This was showing a good spirit; albeit we ought to remember that the men who were undergoing the most terrific strain were the Directors, who had not only pledged all their private means, but were facing at times the peculiarly unbearable possibility of the whole vast undertaking crumbling into failure before their eyes.

Two of the Directors, Mr. Sandford Fleming and Mr. Harris, appear in the group when the last spike was driven, and behind them stands Mr. John H. McTavish, one of the famous family connected with the Hudson’s Bay Company through many years. Just within that circle in the picture stands a little boy with his neck craned to see the veteran nailing the steel to a tie. He was the water boy who carried drink for the men as they toiled on the road. I sometimes wonder what became of that boy who had the rare privilege of looking on when this extraordinary event in Canadian history took place. He was witnessing what might be called the birth of a nation.

With hands in the pockets of his overcoat, in a characteristic attitude, and apparently gazing intently at the hammer and spike, stands the strong, powerful figure of Mr. Van Horne, the general who had reached his objective after a desperate battle. His favourite type of square-crowned hat is pulled well down, and his whole posture suggests determined strength. His face, withal, has a dreamy cast, and one would give more than the proverbial penny for his thoughts. His mind, no doubt, was dwelling on the struggle through which he had fought for four tremendous years. But he was doubtless also looking into the future. No one knew so well as he did, that though, in one sense, the road was completed, there was another sense in which it had only begun. Many improvements and extensions were still to be made, branch lines and double tracks were to be laid, traffic had to be developed, the land had to be peopled and the obligations of the road, incurred for bringing it to the last spike, had to be met. But it is a striking thing to recall that the total indebtedness of the Company to the Government was met within a year of the opening of the road, and that the Company has never had to ask the Government for a dollar since that time. The road was to prosper immensely, and the man who, in some trepidation, had written this same Van Horne in the darkest days, as to the Company’s securities, and got the laconic telegram, “Sell your boots and buy C. P. R. stock,” did well if he accepted the advice.

Men who were present at Craigellachie when that last spike was hammered home, tell us that for a while after the sound of the blows ceased there was absolute silence. The few hundreds who had the privilege of being there seemed, in a sense, stunned by the enormous significance of the event. Then some one gave a shout—perhaps it was that little “water boy,” because it is like what a boy would do—and then the mountains echoed with a perfect frenzy of cheering, that continued for minutes, breaking out again and again. Mr. Van Horne was called on by the crowd for a speech. Without changing his attitude and with his eyes still upon the junction of the rails, the great railroader said simply and quietly, “All I can say is that the work has been well done in every way.” It was a short speech, but it was a profound tribute to everybody who had taken part in this colossal enterprise. Directors, officials, contractors, navvies, teamsters, stonecutters, bridge builders, train men, telegraph operators and all the rest were embraced in this terse, but heartfelt, and richly-deserved eulogium. And the conductor had a splendid conception of a climacteric moment when he shouted “All aboard for the Pacific,” and the train took its swift way down to the Western sea. Two centuries had gone by since daring British explorers had essayed in vain to go across the North American continent by some hitherto undiscovered waterway to the Pacific. They were amongst the famous forerunners of the gallant and able men who had now, after amazing endeavour, laid the steel across prairie and mountain where not many years before hunters and trappers, by packhorse, snowshoe, travois or wooden cart, had broken adventurous trails. Thus there had now been opened up a new Empire, whose enormous extent and productive capacity would make it one of the wonders of the world and the Mecca for millions of the human race.

Regular passenger service was not inaugurated till the following spring, the first through train reaching Port Moody in June, 1886, and Vancouver in May, 1887. Port Moody was the statutory terminus, but the extension to Vancouver was inevitable, although Port Moody real estate owners naturally threw every obstacle in the way of the railway going farther. Vancouver had been swept by the great fire in 1886, but the courageous inhabitants started to rebuild and there were probably two or three thousand people, under the leadership of the first mayor, Mr. Malcolm A. MacLean, to greet the first train with rousing cheers and an address. It was a great day for Vancouver. A generation has since grown up which does not fully understand, because it does not know. But the people who know the story of the fire-swept area of rocks and blackened stumps into which the first Canadian Pacific train rolled that day, thirty-seven years ago, bringing in with it the dawn of a new day, do not forget. It linked the cold ashes of the new townsite to the throbbing power of Eastern Canada, and put a new name on the map where Orient and Occident looked each other in the face across the Pacific. It is rather a striking coincidence that I am writing these words on the 23rd of May, the anniversary of the arrival of the first Canadian Pacific Railway train in Vancouver in 1887. And on this day, in this Year of Grace 1924, the Empress of Canada, one of the Company’s great steamships, has just come back to this West Coast after a five months’ voyage around the globe. The space of time between is brief, considered as a span in history, but in that time the Canadian Pacific has not only covered the Dominion in all directions with its steel trails, but has compassed all the oceans with her floating palaces.

That day in May, 1887, the prominent officials of the road on the Pacific Division were the heroes of the hour—a group of able and reliable men—Messrs. Harry Abbott, Richard Marpole, W. F. Salisbury, Henry J. Cambie, D. E. Brown, George McL. Brown, H. Connon, Lacy R. Johnson, A. J. Dana, with a faithful band, the forerunners of the present host, in their employ.

As I am writing this paragraph on the eve of May 24th, the anniversary of the birth of good Queen Victoria, of immortal memory, it is fitting to note the following fine letter from the Marquis of Lorne to the Canadian Pacific authorities: “The Queen has been most deeply interested in the account which I have given her of the building of your great railway, the difficulties which it involved and which have been so wonderfully surmounted. Not one Englishman in a thousand realizes what those difficulties were; but now that the great Dominion has been penetrated by this indestructible artery of steel, the thoughts and purposes of her people, as well as her commerce, will flow in an increasing current to and fro, sending a healthful glow to all the members. The Princess and I are looking forward to a journey one day to the far and fair Pacific.” It was in keeping with the idea running through this letter that the Queen conferred a baronetcy on President George Stephen and a knighthood on Mr. Donald A. Smith. And out in the great mountains which these two Scottish men so wonderfully helped to pierce with the steel trail, there are monuments to them in the cathedral peaks, Mount Stephen and Mount Sir Donald, “More enduring than brass.”

Since that day in 1887 there have been, as the Marquis of Lorne’s letter prophesies, a constant succession of most distinguished travellers. The princes of our own Royal line, including our present gracious King and the present Prince of Wales; noblemen, statesmen, scientists, novelists, poets, soldiers, sailors, missionaries and others of world-wide fame, have passed and repassed over this iron highway, entranced and amazed at the richness, the fertility, the resources and the incomparable scenery of the country. Volumes could not record their praise for the country, for the travelling accommodation and for that courtesy and considerateness by employees for which the Canadian Pacific is known the world over. It has always been the aim of the road to see that children, ladies, old and feeble people, can travel alone with the utmost safety and comfort, and the testimony of travellers is that this tradition is steadily maintained under all circumstances. There are doubtless many travelling people who are selfish, unreasonable and hard to please, but generally speaking (and I have seen this exemplified scores of times) the official or employee of the Company proceeds on the assumption that “the passenger is always right,” and in the end everybody is satisfied.

In this connection Lady Macdonald, who went with her distinguished husband, Sir John, on the second regular train to the Coast, wrote in her account of it: “It was quite touching and something new in railway life to find the brakeman grieving over the smoke and apologizing for it.” If there was a forest or prairie fire abroad the train-hands were not to blame. If the reference was to the old coal-burners in the mountains, the Company now uses fuel oil.

To give another example: One day Mr. Van Horne overheard a trainman in rather sharp altercation with an irritable and unreasonable passenger, and speaking to this trainman afterwards, Van Horne said: “You are not to consider your own personal feelings when you are dealing with these people. You should not have any. You are the road’s while you are on duty; your reply is the road’s; and the road’s first law is courtesy.” The reader will see that while, in one sense, this seems to suppress the individuality of the employee, there is another sense in which it honours his position by making him, in that connection, the accredited representative of the Company. Mr. Van Horne inculcated this in many different ways, till employees took a pride in the road. They felt they were part of it. Even Van Horne’s faithful coloured car-porter, the well-known Jimmie French, used to tell passengers “how we built the C. P. R.” It will be recalled that when that porter died, Mr. Van Horne, who grieved greatly over the passing of a friend, walked in the funeral procession as chief mourner. That is the spirit of the road.

It would be impossible to mention a fraction of the famous travellers who have made the Canadian Pacific their way of travel, but there are two of the public men of that period who had been protagonist and antagonist on the subject for years, whose journey to the Coast had more than usual interest on that account. The one was Sir John A. Macdonald; the other was the Hon. Edward Blake.

Sir John and Lady Macdonald crossed to the Pacific on the second train that made the through trip. Sir John, being the head of the Government, was nominally at least the sponsor for the Canadian Pacific, although we must not forget that his Minister of Railways, Sir Charles Tupper, did the larger part of the fighting to get it through. Sir John, however, was always the man who had the last word as to assisting the road, and though he tried the patience of Stephen and Van Horne at times, he was the real originator of the plan and in the end gave it his powerful assistance in the days of stress. Sir John, during that trip over the road in 1886, made one of his characteristically witty and magnetic speeches at a great mass meeting in the McIntyre Rink in Winnipeg. Those were my student days, and the chance to hear the popular Premier, who was on a sort of triumphal trip over the completed road, was not to be missed. My recollection is that the speech was non-partisan, except for a few humorous references, and not very heavy. Sir John was alert and bright even to jauntiness, but he spoke as a man who was through with a puzzling problem and was light−heartedly taking a care-free holiday. His allusion to the Canadian Pacific, a strange blending of pathos and humour, swept the house into a hurricane of cheers. He said “There was a time when I never expected to live to see the completion of this great railway. But I knew it would be completed some day, and in that day I said I would see my friends crossing the continent upon it as I looked down upon them from another and better sphere. My friends on the Opposition side of the House kindly suggested that I would more likely be looking up from below. But I have disappointed all conjecturers, and I am doing this trip on the horizontal.”

It was during that pioneer railway trip that Lady Macdonald loyally rode for part of one day in the mountains on the cow-catcher of the engine, as a way of advertising to the world the safety of the new road. Mentioning Lady Macdonald recalls the story told by that big-hearted humorist, Col. George Ham, whom everybody knows and likes. It appears that Superintendent Niblock, of the Medicine Hat division of the road, had to be away from home when Sir John’s train was due to pass. But desiring to show some courtesy he wired some one at the Hat to send Lady Macdonald a bouquet of flowers. The message appears to have become mangled and when delivered had “flowers” spelled “flour” and “bouquet” contracted to “boq.” This looked unusual, and “boq. of flour” was interpreted to mean “a bag of flour.” This was accordingly despatched to Sir John’s private car, where the porter had no room to spare, and refused to accept it. And so both the courtesy and the gift fell by the wayside, although the intention was good.

The other distinguished public man, as above noted, who travelled to Vancouver over the Canadian Pacific a few years later, was the Hon. Edward Blake. He had steadfastly, consistently and, no doubt, conscientiously, opposed the construction of the road as involving what he called “ruinous expenditure” for a young and sparsely settled country. Mr. Blake’s memory remains as that of one of the ablest and most high-minded statesman in the public life of Canada and, by general consent, the most outstanding intellectual force this country has produced. But, as observed in a preceding chapter, he had never been West before the famous railway debates took place, and therefore underestimated the country and its possibilities. When he did come, in 1891, he made a notable speech in Vancouver. In that speech he not only accepted the situation in a frank and manly way, but, calling on his large vocabulary and his somewhat unsuspected sense of humour, he gave a remarkable description of the country by putting everything in words opposite to the reality. Mr. Blake said: “As I approached this country I was struck by the remarkable change from the rugged and upheaved territory of the plains of the North-West to the smooth and level slope of the Rockies; as I ascended the slope and came upon the somewhat level and monotonous flats of British Columbia; as I travelled by the languid Bow and descended again through the valley of the tranquil Kicking Horse; as I crossed the calm Columbia and travelled down the dead waters of the Beaver and along the placid Illecillewaet and by the drowsy Skuzzy; as I passed by the slow Thompson and last of all by the banks between which the Fraser meanders its sluggish way, I turned to the fertile resources of your shores and viewed the horizon where it spanned the meadows of the Selkirks, the fertile level plains of the Gold Range and the broad plains of the Coast Range, and I reached here converted.” For a while the audience, thinking that Mr. Blake was getting things mixed because this first swift trip was confusing him as to locality, preserved a well-bred, silent attitude, as if much puzzled. In a little while, as he proceeded, they saw that he was purposely and skilfully putting everything in the converse way, and the house simply rocked with delighted laughter in peal after peal. When people are enjoying an uproarious laugh, they cannot cherish resentment. And so when Mr. Blake, dropping the jocular vein, went on to say, “When the railroad was built and finished I felt myself that it was useless to continue the controversy longer, in deference to this whole country which Canada has risked so much to retain,” the people in British Columbia forgave him for calling their Province “a sea of mountains,” and, like true Westerners, declared that he was playing the game in a sportsmanlike way and they would call off their feud.

And thus was the great railway opened from ocean to ocean. Much remained yet to be done in the way of constant improvement of the road and increase of the rolling stock. But the system was in operation, and the trains passed East and West over the once “Great Lone Land” and through the mountain passes. Circumstances have changed somewhat since the following fine verses were written some years ago by the late Pauline Johnson, but in general they still represent the situation. Born in Ontario in the region made famous by her great ancestor, Joseph Brant, ally of the British people, this gifted poetess, with the Indian blood of which she was so proud, saw in the Canadian Pacific trains not just so many cars and engines, but new and living factors in the expanding life of her beloved Dominion. And so she makes “The C. P. R. No. 1, Westbound,” say:

“I swing to the sunset land—

The world of prairie, the world of plain,

The world of promise and hope and pain

The world of gold and the world of gain,

And the world of the willing hand.

“I carry the brave and bold—

The one who works for the nation’s bread,

The one whose past is a thing that’s dead,

The one who battles and beats ahead

And the one who goes for gold.

“I swing to the ‘Land to Be.’

I am the power that laid its floors;

I am the guide to its Western Shores

I am the key to its golden doors

That open alone to me.”

And she calls on “The C. P. R. No. 2, Eastbound,” to say:

“I swing to the land of morn—

The grey old East with its grey old seas;

The land of leisure, the land of ease,

The land of flowers and fruit and trees

And the place where we were born.

“Freighted with wealth I come:

For he who many a moon has spent

Far out West on adventure bent,

With well-worn pick and folded tent

Is bringing his bullion home

“I never will be renowned,

As my twin that swings to the Western marts,

For I am she of the humbler parts—

But I am the joy of waiting hearts;

For I am the Homeward bound.”

From “Flint and Feather,” by E. Pauline Johnson. Published by arrangement with the Musson Book Company, Limited.

CHAPTER XII
Guardians of the Road

Now that we have followed the main line of the Canadian Pacific to the coast and have paid tribute to the actual builders it is fitting to devote a brief chapter to a body of men who, while not taking part directly in the work, did so much to make that work possible that they were often officially thanked by the railway heads for their extraordinary assistance. I refer now particularly to the part played on the stage of Western development by that famous corps, the North-West Mounted Police. I am giving here the original title. Since the time when they were so designated, the prefix “Royal” was given by King Edward, as a recognition of the great services of these knights of the saddle. Still later, when, shortly after the outbreak of the Great War, they were for obvious important reasons distributed all over the Dominion, they were given the present name of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Names have changed, but throughout the fifty years from their organization these riders in the scarlet and gold uniform have done their duty as law-and-order men, inflexible, untiring and incorruptible, in their guardianship of life and property on the widest frontier in the world. The fact that they became an important factor in the conception and building of the Canadian Pacific Railway was foreshadowed in the famous report made by Capt. W. F. Butler (afterwards Sir William Butler, of South Africa,) in the year 1871, when he travelled over the “great lone land” and made recommendation how to preserve law and order in that vast prairie country. The railway would not have come into a country that would not some day be populated, and no country would be populated unless immigrants and homesteaders were given assurance that their lives and property would be protected in the new country. So it was that Butler recommended the formation of a “mobile force,” because a force located at fixed points or forts “would afford no adequate protection outside the immediate circle of these points and would hold out no inducements to the establishment of new settlements.” And Butler says he made his recommendation because he saw “a vast country lying, as it were, silently awaiting the approach of the immense wave of human life which rolls unceasingly from Europe to the American continent.” Butler added that, though the Western plains were far from the Atlantic seaboard, “still that wave of human life is destined to reach those beautiful solitudes and to convert their now useless vegetation into all the requirements of civilized existence.” And it is historically true to say that homesteaders began to come to the great lone land with more confidence once the Mounted Police had taken control of the country in the early 70’s. The notable painting, “Any Complaints?” by Paul Wickson, is based on this idea. It represents the police patrol riding up to the homesteader at his plough and asking if he has been troubled by horse thieves, or cattle stealers or lawless Indians. It was because the homesteader could pursue his way in peace that a railway to carry what he imported and exported, had a future. And not only from possible human enemies, but from the terrific danger of prairie fires and such like, did the rider of the plains stand on guard. When one, for instance, sees Constable Conradi, despite warnings that he was attempting the impossible, spurring his horse through rolling clouds of smoke and saving a family from death at the risk of his own life, one realizes how these knights of the saddle gave people a sense of security. Or when one sees thirty of these gallant riders sweeping the plain till they found a lost child and restored her to her mother’s arms, he understands how the presence of these men robbed the life on the prairies of the sense of insecurity. The element of security drew settlers to the plains and thus encouraged railway building.

Coming to railway construction time we have the cases in which the contractors and engineers were terrorized by the Indians in the early stages of their work. One chief, Pie-a-Pot, who had always been a source of trouble on account of his ugly disposition and his evident determination not to acquiesce in the incoming of civilized life, took it into his head one day to camp on the railroad right-of-way on the prairie. The surveyors and engineers worked up to that point and found Pie-a-Pot’s tent squarely in the way. Around him were many other tents and all supported by a big band of braves who, mounted on their ponies, circled around, discharging fire-arms into the air and indulging in war-whoops and other hostile demonstrations. The surveyors and engineers asked the hostile chief to move, but he only laughed at them and urged his braves to more violent exhibitions of their prowess. The men of peaceful occupations discreetly withdrew to a safe distance and halted their work, but at the same time managed to send back word to the Mounted Police headquarters as to the situation. Headquarters sent a message to the detachment of police nearest the scene of disturbance, though it was many miles away. That detachment of police consisted of only two men, a sergeant and a constable. Numbers have never counted either way with the Mounted Police, and so these two in the scarlet and gold uniform rode miles to Pie-a-pot’s camp on the railroad right-of-way. They told Pie-a-Pot that they were instructed to ask him to move out of the way, but the defiant chief sat in front of his tent and encouraged his braves to rush the two police horses with their ponies. The sergeant and constable, however, sat their horses unmoved and again warned the chief, who laughed in their faces. Then the sergeant, pulling out his watch, indicated the minute hand and gave the chief ten minutes to move. The Indians became more violent, but the police sat tight and at the end of the ten minutes the sergeant, throwing his reins to the constable so that the horses would not be stampeded, leaped over Pie-a-Pot’s head and, entering the chief’s tent, kicked out the centre pole and brought it down in a hurry. He did the same with the four tents of the chief’s head-men and then told them to get out at once. The Indians saw the kind of men they had to deal with and so they moved swiftly, and the Canadian Pacific surveyors and engineers went on with their work.

Not long afterwards there was a similar case, though it did not go so far. Eastern contractors and workmen, who had not been used to seeing war-paint, were naturally somewhat alarmed one day when a band of Indians rushed at them with the air of people who owned the earth and wished to hold it for themselves. Superintendent Shurtcliffe of the Mounted Police received an S. O. S. call on that particular occasion from a contractor who was getting out ties from a bush, and had been forced to leave “on the double quick” when a chief with the portentous name of “Front Man” swooped down on his tie gang with a band of yelling Indians. Shurtcliffe summoned “Front Man” and told him how dangerous a thing it was to interfere with the progress of work authorized by the Canadian Government. When Mr. “Front Man” heard that it was practically the Government he had been chasing, he was very penitent and promised the Mounted Police officer that he would behave himself in the future. Whereupon the contractor and his men, with a new appreciation of the men in scarlet and gold, went back to prosecute, unmolested, their peaceful and highly necessary tie business.

There was a famous riot case at the Beaver River in the mountains, early in 1885, where several hundreds of rough men, many of them reckless aliens, went on strike during construction, and were backed by lawless camp-followers at that temporary terminus. There were only some eight Mounted Police to keep order, although many of the navvies and the disorderly characters in the place were heavily armed. The police detachment, however, was commanded by that redoubtable officer, Superintendent Samuel B. Steele (later Major-General Sir S. B. Steele), with his second in command, Sergeant Fury, a short, heavy-set, quiet man who could be all that his name suggested if occasion required. When the strike was pending Steele told the strikers that he would not interfere in the question itself as the police never took sides, but he warned them that they must keep the peace and not commit any acts of violence or he would punish them to the full extent of the law.

A few days later Steele was down in bed with mountain fever, and one of his men, Constable Kerr, had gone to the town to get him some medicine.

When Kerr was coming back he saw a mob being incited by a well-known desperate character to make an attack on the barracks and to destroy the railway property. Kerr, though alone, promptly arrested the man, but he was overpowered by the mob and the prisoner rescued. Kerr reported to Fury, who in turn reported to Steele, who was in bed, as the strikers knew. Steele said, “It will never do to let the gang think they can play with us,” and sent Fury with one of the constables with orders to arrest the man. The arrest was made, but the two policemen were again overpowered and came back to report with their uniforms torn by the mob. The police were not “gunmen” and never used weapons unless as a last resort. The limit had been reached in this case, and Steele said to Fury, “Take three men and go back and shoot any one who interferes to prevent you making the arrest.” Fury went back with Constables Fane, Craig and Walters, while the other four constables guarded the barracks which were slated for attack. Johnston, a magistrate, was there to read the Riot Act, if necessary. In a few minutes there was a shot, and Johnston said “Some one in that gang has gone to kingdom come.” Steele leaped out of bed and went to the window. Craig and Walters were dragging the prisoner across the bridge over the Beaver, the desperado fighting like a demon and a scarlet woman following them with oaths and curses. Fury and Fane were in the rear, trying to hold back a mob of some three hundred men. Steele called on Johnston to come and read the Riot Act, and ignoring his own fevered condition, he grabbed a rifle and started running across the bridge calling the other men to follow. The mob could hardly believe their eyes when they saw Steele and shouted with oaths, “Even his deathbed does not scare him.” In the meantime the desperate prisoner was struggling fiercely with his captors, biting, kicking and shouting till they were on the bridge, when Walters lifted his powerful fist and struck him on the head, and, with Craig, dragged him like a rag into the barracks, where they left him and rushed back to help their comrades. Johnston read the Riot Act and Steele, rifle in hand, told the rioters that if he saw any man of them trying to reach for his gun he would shoot him. He told them to disperse and that if he saw more than ten of them together he would order his men to mow them down. And the little detachment of eight policemen stood there with magazines charged ready to carry out orders. The riot collapsed in five minutes, and the leaders of it were sentenced next day. The trouble never cropped up again. The roughs at the Beaver had tried the game of rioting with the wrong men. And cool, daring men like these were all along the line to keep the lawless in mind of the fact that lawlessness would not be tolerated for a moment in the Mounted Police country.

It is not unexpectedly, then, that we come across two special letters from builders of the great railway, expressing their thanks to the Mounted Police. The first is from Mr. (later Sir) William C. Van Horne, who was not given to saying gushing things. Here it is,

“January 1, 1883.

“Dear Sir:

“Our work of construction for the year 1882 has just closed, and I cannot permit the occasion to pass without acknowledging the obligations of the Company to the North-West Mounted Police, whose zeal and industry in preventing traffic in liquor and preserving order along the line of construction have contributed so much to the successful prosecution of the work. Indeed, without the assistance of the officers and men of the splendid force under your command it would have been impossible to have accomplished as much as we did. On no great work within my knowledge, where so many men have been employed, has such perfect order prevailed. On behalf of the Company and all their officers, I wish to return thanks and to acknowledge particularly our obligations to yourself and Major Walsh.

“I am, sir,

“Yours very truly,

“W. C. Van Horne,

“General Manager.

“To Lieutenant-Colonel A. G. Irvine

“Commissioner,

“North-West Mounted Police,

“Regina.”

And at the close of the next year we find the following from another very practical man, John M. Egan, General Superintendent of the Western Line, who did not make incursions into the realm of the sentimental. The letter runs as follows:

“My dear Colonel:

“Gratitude would be wanting did the present year close without my conveying, on behalf of the Canadian Pacific Railway, to you and those under your charge most sincere thanks for the manner in which their several duties in connection with the railway have been attended to during the past season.

“Prompt obedience to your orders, faithful carrying out of your instructions, contribute in no small degree to the rapid construction of the line. The services of your men during recent troubles among a certain class of our employees prevented destruction to property and preserved obedience to law and order in a manner highly commendable. Justice has been meted out to them without fear or favour, and I have yet to hear any person, who respects same, say aught against your command.

“Wishing you the season’s compliments,

“I remain,

“Yours very truly,

“Jno. M. Egan.”

Taken together these letters, written by matter-of-fact men, are great tributes paid to the men of the Mounted Police for the part they played in those critical periods of the history of the pioneer railway. In such masses of railway men of all kinds and nationalities thrown together in construction times, there was constant danger of disorder under certain conditions. There were amongst these men, many adventurous agitators who cared nothing for the ultimate success of the railway. Had the whiskey-peddlers who always hover around such camps been allowed to ply their nefarious trade, there would have been constant danger to the men themselves from high explosives carelessly handled. And there would have been the ever-present menace of unreasonable outbreaks causing delay and damage to a great and necessary undertaking. No wonder that such highly practical and observant men as Van Horne and Egan understood and gladly acknowledged the co-operation of the Mounted Police in a vast national enterprise.

People have often wondered how this road, traversing some three thousand miles across lonely prairie and lonelier mountains, escaped having its trains held up by robbers, as was common in some other similarly situated countries. In an official report some years after the road opened Superintendent Deane of the Mounted Police at Calgary refers to an effort at train-robbing that year and starts out with the following revealing statement: “It has for years been an open secret that the train-robbing fraternity in the United States had seriously considered the propriety of trying conclusions with the Mounted Police, but had decided that the risks were too great and the game not worth the candle. After the object lesson they received last May, it may be reasonably supposed that railway passengers will be spared further anxiety during the life of the present generation at least.”

The special event to which Deane refers was a train hold-up at Kamloops in British Columbia by a notorious train-robbing expert, Bill Miner, alias Edwards, etc., assisted by two other gunmen, William Dunn and “Shorty” Colquhoun. A train robbery had been committed by the same gang some months before, but local authorities could not trace the robbers. When the second robbery took place at Kamloops, the railway heads thought they could not afford to take more chances, although Provincial Police, especially Fernie, of Kamloops, were doing good trailing work. Mr. Richard Marpole, then Superintendent of the Canadian Pacific Railway at the Coast, who was always devoted to the interests of the road, wired to General Manager (later Sir) William Whyte to secure the help of the Mounted Police, who were not then on duty in British Columbia. Mr. Whyte telegraphed to Regina to Commissioner A. B. Perry, head of the Mounted Police, who, wiring Calgary to have two detachments ready, left for that point to take charge of the case. From Calgary, Perry (now Major-General and C.M.G., retired after years of distinguished service) sent Inspector Church, an excellent officer, with a detachment, to Penticton to cut off the escape of the robbers over the boundary-line. Perry left for Kamloops with a detachment under charge of Staff-Sergeant J. J. Wilson, with Thomas, Shoebotham, Peters, Stewart, Browning and Tabateau. The weather was bad and the horses secured at Kamloops were poor, but, despite these handicaps, this posse trailed and captured the robbers, after a sharp fight, within forty-eight hours. The effect of that lesson is still apparent, as Deane prophesied.

When the last spike had been driven on the Canadian Pacific Railway at Craigellachie, and there was a through train to the Coast, Steele, above-mentioned, who was back again on Mounted Police work in the mountains, was given a trip to the Pacific out of compliment to himself and the force generally. It was a time when the railway men were trying out the road which they knew had been well constructed. Steele describes his trip in a semi-humorous way, and speaks of the train going at fifty-seven miles an hour, roaring in and out of the tunnels and whirling around the curves. He says it was a wild ride, but adds these fine words, “Many years have passed since that memorable ride, and to-day one goes through the mountains in the most modern and palatial observation cars, but the recollection of that journey to the Coast on the first train through, is far sweeter to me than any trips taken since. It was the exultant moment of pioneer work and we were all pioneers on that excursion.” And we add again, all due honour to the law-and-order men in scarlet and gold who had watched over the construction of the long steel trail.

CHAPTER XIII
Intensive and Extensive Work

The Canadian Pacific Railway, after terrific fighting against heavy odds, had reached its objective in the completion of the main line from sea to sea. It was a thin steel line reaching across the continent. But the driving of the last spike at Craigellachie simply gave the Company a base of operation from which to reach out for other conquests, in order that the work already done might prove productive of the best results. Mr. Van Horne, who had a perfect passion for doing new things and for bringing unknown places into the limelight, saw tremendous opportunities looming up for the full play of his abilities in that regard.

It was well for the road and for Canada that he saw the vista thus opening up ahead with the lure of great prospects for the exercise of his powers. Because otherwise he might have taken up work elsewhere. It is well known that more than one board in the States was ready to throw its presidency at the head and the feet of the man whose astonishing record on the Canadian Pacific had attracted the attention of the railway world. In fact Van Horne, on reaching Montreal after returning from Craigellachie, found a letter (and others followed from several directions) from Mr. Jason C. Easton, a great banker and railway man in Wisconsin. The letter expressed the hope that as Van Horne had only agreed to stay with the Canadian Pacific for five years, he would soon go back to the States and take a railway presidency there.

But besides the fact that the bigness of the task still to be undertaken in Canada held him to this country, the truth is that he had become personally attached to President George Stephen and his Scottish-Canadian associates. A little sidelight is thrown upon this phase of the matter by the incident connected with the driving of the last spike by Mr. Donald A. Smith (Strathcona). Mr. Smith owned a country home near Winnipeg, called Silver Heights, once the property of the Hon. James McKay, the handsome and famous frontiersman and interpreter who had such a large share in the making of the successful Indian treaties on the plains. After his removal to Montreal Mr. Smith allowed the house to remain closed except for the caretaker and those who looked after the farm stock and such like. On the way west by special train to Craigellachie, Mr. Van Horne thought it would be a good idea to have the house at Silver Heights opened up and have a spur-track laid to it from Winnipeg, as a surprise to the veteran who was to drive the last spike. When the train returned to Winnipeg the engine was reversed and the special began backing out of the station. Mr. Smith after a while noticed it, and then began to look out of the window. In a little while he said: “Why, gentlemen, if I can believe my eyes this ground looks familiar and there are Aberdeen cattle just like mine and that place looks like my house.” The train stopped and the conductor shouted “Silver Heights.” Mr. Smith was delighted beyond measure and again and again expressed his appreciation of the courtesy and thoughtfulness that had planned the surprise. It was just one of the ways by which the apparently unemotional Van Horne paid chivalrous personal compliment to the men whose character and courage he had learned to respect as they stood by him to their last dollar in the great task to which he had given himself so determinedly for four laborious years.

When Mr. Van Horne reached Montreal, after the opening of the main line, he began to speed up the plans he had been putting already in operation for the perfecting of the road and the increase of traffic in all directions. The quality of the road-bed was of even higher standard than the Government contract required. It will be remembered that once, when the road-bed was still new, Van Horne had aboard his train a number of Eastern men who were going out West in regard to the valuation of the Government section of the road constructed by Onderdonk. While still on the Canadian Pacific section in the mountains, Van Horne walked up the platform at Field and said to the engineer, Charley Carey, a fearless, skilful driver, “Let her out a bit, Charlie, we will show these fellows that they are on a railroad fit to run on, though the Government section is not.” Charlie “let her out” and made a fifty-one-mile run in an hour and wound up by doing the seventeen miles from Golden to Donald in fifteen minutes, and all safe. When they pulled up there, with a flourish and flashing fire on the rails as the brakes were put down hard to prevent running by the platform, the gentlemen from the East needed no further demonstration. The Canadian Pacific road-bed was all right even in those early days.

But Van Horne knew that much had still to be done. Construction had been careful, but rapid, and steel and stone and cement would have to replace many wooden culverts and bridges. Trestles had to be filled in or replaced by stone or steel. Rolling stock, shops, roundhouses, yards, stations, wharves and all manner of similar things had to be provided. Branch lines to feed the main line would have to gridiron the country, and connections would have to be made with the big systems south of the line.

Incidentally, it was as a result of his observation before he came to Canada at all, that he insisted on the Canadian Pacific keeping such auxiliary utilities as the telegraph, express and sleeping car departments. These also in their several ways would be feeders to the main treasury account. They were not the big tent, as Van Horne said, using a circus illustration; but the side-shows, as he called them, went a long way to increase the receipts. It had been the custom in other places to let other organizations have these franchises, but Van Horne said they took the cream of several kinds of business and “left the skim milk to the railway.” Van Horne wanted the cream, as the road would need the money; and so the Dominion Express and the Canadian Pacific Telegraphs and the Railway’s own sleeping cars, got into business for the big Company from the start. And these, like the dining car department and others of the same type, are marvels of service and efficiency, as every one now knows.

To speak about the creation of traffic is to use a somewhat peculiar, but well-founded, expression, because, in this case, it applies to traffic which had practically no existence before. Nothing escaped Van Horne’s notice. In the evening hours when he would be in camp on the prairie during construction time, he took delight in planning sports of various kinds for the men. “A change is as good as a rest,” is an old saying with a lot of truth in it. I have seen men apparently fagged out with a day’s march become lithesome as kittens over a game of baseball in the evening on the plain. Mr. Van Horne, who was a true artist, became interested in the bleached bones of buffaloes amongst the construction tents. And many a great buffalo head with its wide white frontal bone did the big railroader adorn with sketches made in coal or pencil, to the delight of the onlookers. And at the same time he was thinking of traffic in these buffalo bones. In my boyhood I have ridden through acres and miles of prairie where the white bones of the buffalo “lay thick as the autumnal leaves in Vallambrosa.” These acres of skeletons were an indictment against the selfish and greedy buffalo-hunting sporting men who had rounded up the herds, killed them by thousands, and took nothing but the tongue and the hide. Van Horne saw in these vast surface cemeteries how the slaughtered buffalo could still be of value. And so he had men gather up the bones and pile them in great heaps along stations and sidings, to be shipped by trainloads to Eastern factories that were glad to get them. Thus the railroader, who got the material for the cost of gathering, made good profits for the Railway, and at the same time cleared the land of an encumbrance. The man who could think of such things was not likely to fail in creating traffic.

Van Horne was anxious to get the country settled up along the great spaces in the Middle West. So he lured many cattle-men across the line by the advertising he did for the rich grazing lands in the southern portion of the North-West Territories, as the prairie country was then described. He drafted some striking and rather freakish advertisements for billboards in Eastern Canada, thus “capitalizing the scenery” of the Great Lakes and the mountains and making a special bid for tourist traffic. Some of these posters, such as “Parisian Politeness on the C. P. R.” and “ ‘How High We Live,’ said the Duke to the Prince,” are somewhat belittled by smart modern advertisers; but somehow they stuck in the memory of those who saw them, and that is the acid test of all advertising. The stream of tourists or other travellers on the main line was a very small rivulet in those early days, and there are records of cars with one or two passengers. But all passengers became enthusiasts over the comfort and courtesy of the road, so that the movement of travellers is now a steady-flowing river of humanity which, in certain seasons, almost overflows in a great tide of sightseers and business people.

It is interesting to recall in connection with Mr. Van Horne’s endeavours to secure settlers by various immigration plans, that he studied social conditions amongst the incoming settlers. That was before the day of rural telephones and motor cars, and he discovered without much difficulty that one of the obstacles to settlement of the prairies at that period was the dread of loneliness and isolation. And the keen-minded railroader formulated a plan to offset that dread in the minds of possible newcomers. He thought that tracts of land should be surveyed so as to permit settlers to live in communities at the apex of a triangle. In order that they might enjoy the social amenities and advantages of community life while their farms spread out from that place of common residence to the farther extremity of the land they held. It is of additional interest to recall that the introduction of the rectangular system of land survey from the United States led to considerable unrest in the Canadian West. It gave Louis Riel a chance to play on the emotions of the half-breed settlers on the South Saskatchewan River, where these settlers desired to hold their land as the early settlers did on the Red and Assiniboine Rivers, their homes near together on the river bank and the farms running back some distance on the plain. And Riel told the half-breeds that the Government wanted to break up their social life and make it difficult for them to have schools and churches and business places near at hand. In fact, the introduction of the rectangular survey, with its comparative isolation, was one of the prime reasons at the base of the Riel Rebellion. So that Mr. Van Horne had a good idea in operation when he advocated the settlement of newcomers close together. The Government, however, did not adopt the scheme. Some settlers, like the Mennonites, followed the plan of community settlement, even though the square farms made them lose time in going backwards and forwards to their work.

Mr. Van Horne’s efforts for the settlement of the country led also to his company building immense elevator accommodation at the Great Lakes and providing facilities for transport thereto.

There were flashes of humour in this grim fight for the settler. Mr. Van Horne was restively asserting one hard year that the grain-buyers who were paying only thirty-five cents a bushel for wheat were practising highway robbery on the farmer. Mr. L. A. Hamilton, the Company’s land commissioner, said to him, “Why not go in and outbid the grain-buyers.” The idea appealed mightily to Van Horne and he sent Alex Mitchell, a grain man from Montreal, to the West to organize some agency and offer fifty cents a bushel. No one knew that Mitchell was acting for the Canadian Pacific, but when he offered fifty cents a bushel, grain poured in on him till all the cars were full and bags of wheat were piled up along station platforms on account of the car shortage. Then the enemies of the Railway who were on the lookout for chances to find fault with the Railway and who, of course, had no idea that the Railway owned the wheat, attacked the Company because it could not take care of the crop and ship it out of the country. These active enemies got photographs taken to show the congestion of the grain at stations and on platforms along the line. Van Horne said nothing, but had these photographs bought up by scores and sent abroad to show that the prairies were so productive that the railway was caught unprepared to handle the enormous crops. All this was great immigration material, and a boomerang for the men who had gone to the expense of getting the photographs.

These things indicate how eagerly Mr. Van Horne was trying to get the country settled, and generally to build up within its borders, prosperous and successful communities. There is a theory in the minds of some kinds of people that a railway like this has been always bleeding the country to death. Hardly any theory could be more assinine and ridiculous. It could only spring from the alleged brains of the unthinking, even though it passes muster as a piece of stump or soap-box oratory. It may sound well as a vote-catcher, but thinking people will not be deceived by such a manifest contradiction in terms. The country and the railway, in such a case as this, must stand or fall together. Each is necessary to the prosperity of the other. Hence for one to attempt the destruction of the other is practically a round-about, but effective, way for that one to commit suicide. And a business concern has sense enough not to commit suicide. In this connection there is a fine paragraph in a sort of valedictory review of the history of the Canadian Pacific Railway, given in 1918 by Lord Shaughnessy, then President of the Company and Chairman of the Board. It is quoted here in advance of the chronological order of our story, because it is specially applicable to the point we are discussing, namely, the interdependence of the country, and the road. The paragraph is as follows: “The shareholders and Directors of the Company have always been impressed with the idea that the interests of the Company are intimately connected with those of the Dominion, and no effort or expense has been spared to help in promoting the development of the whole country.” This statement was intended to cover the whole record of the railway, and Lord Shaughnessy had such an outstanding reputation for stern rectitude and straight-flung veracity that we are fully warranted in taking it at its face value. Hence when we recorded above the efforts of Mr. Van Horne to extend and create the business of the road in the years immediately succeeding the completion of the main line, we were justified in saying that Mr. Van Horne’s endeavours in that regard were in the interests of both the railway and the country. The Canadian Pacific was from its inception an integral factor in creating and extending the social and productive activities of Western civilization.

Mr. George Stephen (first knighted and then raised to the peerage as Lord Mount Stephen, in recognition of his great services to the empire as a railway builder) held the Presidency of the Canadian Pacific from the beginning in 1880 till 1888, when Mr. Van Horne succeeded him. There was something very fine in the deep personal friendship that existed between these two men. And there is something almost pathetic in the correspondence carried on between them over Mr. Stephen’s desire to retire from the Presidency, and later on, when his health and age demanded rest, from the directorate of the road. The President and Mr. Van Horne had been specially close personal friends from the beginning, and their intense struggle to build the railway had cemented their friendship into a type of affection that was unmistakable, even though these two strong men were not of the kind to be demonstrative before the curious onlookers by the wayside of life. Stephen, on undertaking the Presidency in 1881, had indicated even then his purpose to retire when the task of building the road across the continent was completed. The greatness of this task was even then foreseen, although the enormous difficulties that developed, as we have noted in previous chapters, could not have been anticipated by finite vision. The burden of responsibility carried by the President was well-nigh crushing. And there is no doubt that Stephen, at times, felt keenly the fact that not only did some public men in Canada actually oppose what he was trying to do for the country, but that even some of those who had stood as sponsors for the railway undertaking were so slow to appreciate the terrific strain upon Stephen and his colleagues that they only came to their assistance after they were humbly besought for aid. Stephen’s nature was sensitive under these discouragements, but he kept his word and stayed till the main line was built. It was largely at Van Horne’s request that Stephen kept on for two years more and thus gave the General Manager a chance to consolidate and conserve what had been accomplished as well as proceed with extensions and branches. But in 1888 Stephen retired from the Presidency, and Mr. Van Horne was the logical choice to be his successor. In a fine letter which has vivid historical interest to all who know something of the stress and strain of his term of office, Sir George Stephen, under date of August 7th, 1888, wrote to the shareholders of the Company, his resignation. After referring to his determination, at the outset, to remain in office till the completion of the main line, Sir George relates how he remained two years more at the request of his colleagues. Then he goes on to say, “warned now by the state of my health, finding that the severe and constant strain which I have had to bear for the last eight years has unfitted me for the continuous and arduous work of an office in which vigour and activity are essential; feeling the increasing necessity for practical railway experience; and believing that the present satisfactory and assured position of the Company offers a favourable opportunity for taking the step I have so long had in contemplation, I have this day resigned the Presidency of the Company which I have had the honour to hold since its organization.” After referring to the fact that he would continue to have an abiding interest in the Company and remain meanwhile on the Board of Directors, Sir George, reticent and undemonstrative Scot though he was, goes on to say an evidently heartfelt word for the incoming President, as follows: “It is to me a matter of the greatest possible satisfaction to be able to say that in my successor, Mr. Van Horne, the Company has a man of proved fitness for the office; in the prime of life, possessed with great energy and rare ability, having a long and thoroughly practical railway experience and above all an entire devotion to the interest of the Company.” And so Mr. Van Horne succeeded in the Canadian Pacific Presidency, his friend, who was raised to the peerage, choosing the title from one of the lofty peaks in the Rockies. Thus did George Stephen, erstwhile “herd laddie” from the North of Scotland and draper’s apprentice from Aberdeen, become Lord Mount Stephen, and retire to spend his closing years at a beautiful country seat in the Old Country, where he had some rest from the heavy burden of responsibility.

But Mount Stephen still remained on the Directorate of the Canadian Pacific Railway, and many questions were still referred to him and many communications by letter and cable passed between him and Mr. Van Horne. There was some serious effort on the part of Grand Trunk men in London to bring about a unification of the two railways to be operated under the capable direction of Mr. Van Horne and his colleagues. But some indiscreet action on the part of Grand Trunk Directors in regard to advancing rates in order “to get all they could out of the people of Canada,” caused Van Horne to call negotiations off and say he would have no more discussions with men at long range. He had no great love for men who had tried to block the Canadian Pacific in the money markets of London, and he had no faith in the idea that a railway in Canada could be run satisfactorily if men in London were interfering. So the negotiations were ended and the Grand Trunk went on its extraordinary way. But that way is not part of our story.

As we have been discussing the intimate relationship between Mount Stephen and Van Horne, it is interesting to note that, much to the latter’s regret, the former President of the road, on account of his health condition demanding release from business, began to express again his desire to resign from the Board of Directors. He had remained on the Directorate and had been actively interested, as we have seen. But now he must have complete rest from responsibility. He was pressed to stay on the Board with less active participation, but he declared that “he could not be a figurehead and give himself no concern,” a statement which all directors of all companies should take to heart these days. And there is something touching in the fact that Mount Stephen, himself feeling the results of the heavy strain, began to warn Van Horne to be careful of his health and to throw more responsibility on others. As a matter of fact Van Horne was doing this within a short time after he became President. For Shaughnessy was moved up to be a Director and Vice-President and was making his brilliant business qualities felt in the management of the great enterprise he had seen grow from a small beginning.

But Van Horne consented with great reluctance to Mount Stephen’s retirement. The caution of the quiet Scot had been a fine counterpart to the intense and almost headlong impetuosity of the practical railway builder, and a great friendship had grown through the years. So that we are not surprised when we find that Van Horne had written Mount Stephen saying, “Your withdrawal would not be the withdrawal of a Director, but of the soul of the enterprise.” The business world is sometimes as drab and dead and unemotional as a sand waste, but it has its oasis spots, and words like those just quoted mark one of them. During those years, however, it is a notable thing, that whenever a proposal was made even by Mount Stephen to Van Horne, that the business administration of the Canadian Pacific Railway should be conformed to English methods, the bluff railroader refused point-blank. He said that “the English methods work in England, but they will not do here.” He allowed that the English system of stabilizing the financial conditions of a railway was the best, but when it came to operating the road the extent and character of Canada made English methods wholly inapplicable. Mount Stephen knew that Van Horne was a past master at administrative operation, and wisely counselled English capitalists to trust in Van Horne and his Canadian associates to run the road. When I say “Canadian associates” the expression must be understood as meaning that men resident in Canada were to administer and operate the Canadian Pacific Railway. Many of these men were Canadian born; others in the early days were from outside; but throughout the years they have constituted a wonderfully able and efficient and splendidly loyal staff. We have gone forward of events somewhat, owing to our discussing Lord Mount Stephen’s retirement and the relationship subsisting between him and the new President. We may go back a little and see the work of the railway under Mr. Van Horne in that high office. No other name could have been suggested to succeed Mount Stephen, but there is something exhilarating and encouraging to all young men on this continent in contemplating the career of Mr. Van Horne, who though born in another country and of alien parentage, came into the British Dominion of Canada and not only overcame any resentment against his intrusion, but who “made by force his merits known,” till he came to be acknowledged as one of the foremost citizens of Canada.

Mr. Van Horne, both before and after he became President of the Canadian Pacific, set himself not only to create local traffic, travel and immigration as already recorded, but he also very particularly began to secure branch lines and connections as feeders to the long main line from ocean to ocean. In this sort of work he was in his element, planning new lines and building them, buying out old roads and putting new life into them, getting access to the big centres of the East and linking up with the railway systems south of the line. This immense task of opening new lines and establishing new industries has been continued by all Van Horne’s successors till the Dominion and a good deal of the States knows the Canadian Pacific as it knows its city streets and country roads. In fact the Canadian Pacific is so ubiquitous that men take with the utmost gravity the old joke that the clocks of the country are set to the railway time as if the road was in control of the calendar. All these sayings, grave and gay, indicate such a widening of the sphere of this road since the last spike was driven that the mystic monogram “C. P. R.” is understood by every passer-by and the house-flag of the Company’s fleet is known upon the seven seas of the world. About this tremendous expansion and a few of the men back of it we may study more in the next chapter.

CHAPTER XIV
The Guiding Hands

Nothing runs itself unless it is running down hill. This saying may be contradicted by advocates of “blind chance” theories, but, generally speaking, it will be accepted as a practically accurate statement of all movements. The Canadian Pacific Railway Company has never allowed things to run themselves. Strong minds and resolute hands were always at work, and nothing was permitted to run unguided and uncontrolled. If this vast transportation system has become one of the wonders of the modern world, it has not just happened, but it is the result of a deliberate and a well-ordered plan in which an intelligent sense of personal responsibility for one’s own share of work is recognized as imperative in order that the whole system may be a success. A human being is not, as is sometimes said, a cog in the wheel, but a living link in the chain of business causation. Every one’s work in every occupation is monotonous in one sense, and in many cases it seems to the worker that his or her task is of very little importance. But one can never estimate the value of work by superficial standards, for the man or woman who gives a telephone number or raps out a message on the key may be the means of transmitting messages that will change the face of the world.

The Canadian Pacific has endeavoured, with a large measure of success, to magnify the significance of every worker’s task and create a feeling of esprit de corps in its great army of over one hundred thousand workers. Hence, for instance, I was not surprised to hear that in a certain city when a merchant had made a foul public attack on the Company, a host of the Company’s employees stayed away from that merchant’s store. They were of the company that had been unfairly attacked, and they were not going to stand for it. It was in that spirit, I suppose, that Mr. Van Horne’s faithful porter, already mentioned, used to put himself along with his “boss,” and speak of both in the expression “we railway men.” All this means that, from the beginning, the Company knew that it would owe its success not to any one man, however great, but to the many who, though guided generally by one dominating force, would be in particular directed by the heads of the various departments.

In the world’s oldest Book, advice of a sage character was given to Moses, the greatest human leader our world has known, by Jethro, his father-in-law. The wise old chief saw that Moses was going to break down because he was trying to do everything himself. And he told Moses that, in order that he might have time and strength for the heavy task of leadership, he (Moses) should share the responsibility with others by “choosing out of all the people able men, and by making them captains over hundreds and fifties and tens.” The Book which contained that wise advice was a text-book in the schools of Scotland when George Stephen, the first President of the Canadian Pacific, was brought up, and one does not need much imagination to see that such a maxim of wisdom became almost unconsciously part of his being. In any case, when he came to be burdened with the Presidency of the great railway, he practised the advice and passed it on also to others. Hence it was that he brought Mr. Van Horne to take over part of the burden. Stephen knew his own limitations. He could raise money, but he could not build railways. Hence also we find this same Stephen, as we have seen, advising Van Horne to put some of his load on others; and so Shaughnessy, the General Purchasing Agent, moved up to be Mr. Van Horne’s first great assistant and understudy, in line to be “the King of Railway Presidents” in his time.