The tide of emigration is rushing so powerfully through the land, that
not only labourers and artisans are swept away in its stream, but many
of the gentry of the country are beginning to join in the movement,
and wonder what they are to do with their young 'olive branches,'
'unless they emigrate to Australia, and found a new home and plant a
new family there.' Many of the class have taken this step, and many
more are lingering on the brink; and endless and anxious are the
inquiries constantly made for the reports transmitted by those
adventurous spirits who have led the way to new worlds of enterprise.
For the working-classes, all has hitherto been favourable; but for the
class above them--the professional man, and the small capitalist--the
accounts are not, on the whole, encouraging. 'The labour-market is
never overstocked; but,' says a correspondent of a later date, 'I pity
the professional men, the doctors and lawyers, who come out, and the
clerks, few of whom are wanted, and who find provisions and house-rent
much dearer than at home, and to whom the privations they undergo must
be great hardships. Men used to the everyday luxuries of a London
life, delicate women bred up in habits of expense and idleness, have a
severe ordeal to go through on their arrival in that land of work.'
The change of climate, and the discomfort of their hastily-raised
log-cabin, often entered upon when not half dried, frequently produce
fevers, which, at home, would require a long succession of nursing,
medical attendance, and afterwards change of air; but with only a
_help_, absent whenever it pleases her, often with no medical advice
within reach, a damp and cold house half furnished, an uncertain
supply of even common necessaries, and a total absence of all
luxuries, it is really surprising that recovery takes place at all.
Now, it unfortunately happens, that the previous education of all
these emigrants has been directly adverse to that which would have
been desirable for such an after-life. Young ladies and gentlemen are
taught dependence as a duty of civilised life. Children are naturally
independent and active, and would gladly use their activity in helping
themselves. How proud is a child to be allowed to do any of the
servant's work! and how awful the rebuke that follows the attempt;
till at last, poor human nature is cramped, shackled, and gagged.
Hard, then, seems the destiny that removes these pampered children of
European society from their luxurious necessaries--the valet, the
lady's-maid, and all the other appendages--and leaves them wholly to
their own resources, with their self-inflicted ignorance, and their
blundering attempts to remedy it.
I have, therefore, to propose to all who intend to emigrate, that they
should--before taking a step involving so great an outlay, and the
breaking-up of their life here--submit themselves to an ordeal of six
or twelve months, in order to ascertain whether, in truth, their
bodies and minds are fitted for the situation they are entering upon.
Let any gentleman who is thinking of settling in Canada or Australia,
take a _labourer's_ cottage in a distant county--a few pounds will
supply one infinitely superior in comfort and healthfulness to the
log-cabin of the bush that is to be his ultimate destination--let him
take a little land and a bit of garden in a good farming county;
engage one farm-servant (unless he has sons able to take his place),
and a rough country-girl to do the coarse work of the house. The
ladies of the family must, of course, perform all the rest: wash all
the fine linen, iron, make the beds, sweep the rooms, superintend and
assist in the cooking, the dairy, care of the poultry and the pigs;
for, of course, such appendages must be indispensable in such an
establishment. The gentlemen will work on the farm, cultivate the
garden, and gain all the experience they can in manual trades,
carpentering and cabinet-making; and thus by degrees the whole family
will have their bodies and minds strengthened, and their habits formed
for their new work; or they will discover, as many have done when too
late to draw back, that the effort is beyond their powers--that the
tastes and habits of social life are too closely entwined with their
whole being, to leave them the power to withdraw from them at will.
This may seem a forbidding picture, but I can assure them it is very
far superior in comfort to the realities they will find in the bush.
It is true, that this retirement will effectually withdraw them from
their magic circle of friends and luxuries; but let us for a moment
compare the two steps, migration and emigration, and ask ourselves if
the experiment above mentioned be not worth the trial. In the one, we
give up, probably for life, our country, our friends, and generally a
part of our family, with all the comforts of a state of law and
civilisation; we enter upon a certain and constant life of labour,
after a long, tedious voyage; and, if in mature age, bear about with
us a never-ceasing yearning for home, which retains its place in our
hearts with all the heightened colours with which memory invests it.
In the other, we must, it is true, separate ourselves from our long
list of acquaintances, and be absent from the dinner-party and the
ball; but all our interest in social life will be kept up: we can see
at least a weekly newspaper; and although we may have descended a few
steps in the social scale, we shall not be obliged to make the
acquaintance of convicted felons.
Another view of this plan may be taken. Suppose ten, or twenty, or
thirty persons of narrow means were to associate for the purpose of
taking some large, old-fashioned house in the country--many such may
be found--and agree upon a joint scheme of cheap living and
independent labour, plain and economical dress, plain furniture, and a
simple but wholesome table: would not this be better than all the
risks and privations of expatriation? The Americans do not
emigrate--they migrate; and there are spots in any of these three
kingdoms, as wild, as solitary, and as healthful, as can be found in
the regions of the Far West. But we do not, however, suggest migration
as a substitute for genteel emigration--although we suspect it would
in many cases prove so--but merely as a step towards it--a school of
trial, or training, or both.