departure for Canada.
Photo by Patricia Skidmore.
Eight
The Last Tea Party
Sent o’er vast shores
A pocket full of promises
Hush-a, hush-a,
We are Brits no more!
September 8–9, 1937
The little Brits stepped over the grand entrance and into the Canada House foyer. Instinct made them look up. They were gobsmacked. The magnificent room was lined with several columns, large chandeliers with lights sparkling like diamonds hung from the high ceiling. Someone whispered that they must be in a palace. Another boy said that this must be the King’s house. With his eyes on the splendour and not where he was going, he bumped into the boy in front of him, who shoved him back and told him not to be so daft, that the King’s house was much bigger.
“Mind your manners. Stand quietly along the wall,” growled the master as he walked over to talk to a man sitting behind a nearby desk.
The two men glanced over at the weary group as they talked. The children tried to stand quietly, but the day had been long and difficult. Two of the younger boys slid down the wall, landing on their bottoms with a plop. Nervous giggles filled the hall. Nurse quickly grabbed the little mutineers by their collars and yanked them up, warning them to stand still. Master walked over and told Nurse to make certain that the children behave and that he would be back shortly. The two men disappeared down the hallway.
Keeping order was almost impossible. The day had been such an ordeal, yet the next several days would test the children’s endurance. That day’s travel was nothing compared to the challenges they would face before they settled in their new home. As she waited, Nurse struggled with the pros and cons of child emigration. Not all accepted the country’s policy of sending poor children off to the colonies, without their parents and sometimes even separating them from their siblings. Well — there were Marjorie and Kenny for example. It would be very difficult for their sister Joyce to cope with this loss. She had overheard a conversation between the headmaster and the doctor representing the Canadian Immigration Officials while she was standing in the hallway. The headmaster had argued fiercely against the rejection of so many children. She had not planned to eavesdrop, but it couldn’t be avoided. The last word belonged to the doctor, so there was little anyone at the home could do about it.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor’s voice rose. “It is all I can do. I have my guidelines. This group will have to go through one more set of tests at Canada House when they get their inoculations. If I let any riff-raff through, that will be the end of my reputation with the Canadian Immigration Department. And bear in mind that the Fairbridge Society is very strict regarding the age limit of the children.”
“Yes, but what about the children with younger brothers and sisters going? It is not fair to separate them,” the nurse had burst in, unable to contain her frustration any longer.
The doctor had simply said that in a perfect world that wouldn’t happen, but unfortunately, accommodating all the children and their needs just was not possible. To approve older children who would likely be rejected once they were in London would not be a feasible situation. He had promised the Canadian officials to send sound stock only, and that was what he planned to do. Sound stock and the right age group were his two main criteria. With British Columbia already having expressed fears of becoming a dumping ground for England’s street urchins, it was important to keep the bigger picture in mind. The society had plans to open farm schools in every province of Canada, so making a good impression at that time was very important.[1] If the “material”[2] arrived in London in anything less than a perfect state, the authorities at Canada House would simply reject the child then and there and send them back at the Fairbridge Society’s expense. “My hands are tied. I don’t make the rules. Now, please let me get on with my job, as I do not have all day.” And he dismissed her.
Nurse looked over at Marjorie. She had not moved an inch. The child’s eyes looked wary as she kept track of her younger brother. She looked up and down the line of children. They were all so young — some were really just babies.
The master marched back, with a third man leading the way. The man at the desk had busied himself with some papers. Nurse stared at them, looking for signs that all had gone as planned. It would not do to take any back to Birmingham. One nurse nearly lost her job over that. It was with a sigh of relief she heard the man say, “Everything is in order.” The master spoke to the children and told them that the people at Canada House would take very good care of them. As he and the nurse were about to leave, he warned them to be good boys and girls, mind their manners, and, above all, mind their benefactors. He took the nurse’s arm, moved towards the door, and said, “Goodbye, God speed, and good farming!” All eyes were on the door. A few children murmured half-hearted goodbyes and big fat tears streamed the cheeks of some of the younger children.
“Please, take me back with you. I have to see Joyce and Audrey,” Marjorie wailed at the closing door. “They will be wondering where I am.” She swallowed the escaping sob as the door slammed shut.
Their new Canadian host surveyed his charges. He thought it was a pitiful looking group, but that had become routine behaviour for him. He needed to act quickly to stop the impending mutiny. “Well, well, well! What have we here! Welcome to Canada House! Why are you just standing there? Come along with me. Are you hungry? Yes! Well, I am sure you are. We have a special tea all arranged for you. Just one last short journey for today.”
He turned and headed down the hallway. After a few steps, he stopped and looked back. Not one child followed him. They stood, glued to the floor, their eyes still locked on the closed door. He urged them to come along and assured them that there was nothing to be worried about. A few of the braver boys stepped forward and the others soon followed. Instinct told them it was very important to stay together.
As he walked down the long hallway, the man spoke in a soft voice telling them about the wonderful hostel that had been set up in a beautiful old mansion called Creagh House on Holland Villas Road. They would all be very comfortable while getting ready for their big trip. The house could put up as many as fifty children while they waited for their boat to be ready to take them to Canada or to Australia, and it had a beautiful large playroom with a shiny polished floor and lots of toys and books for them to play with. The children were to spend a night or two at Creagh House before going back to Canada House to prepare for their departure to Liverpool.
“All right now.” His voice suddenly became booming and cheerful. “Here are the ladies who will take you on your bus ride. Okay, boys and girls, have a good trip and good luck with your new life.”
He wiped his brow as he shut the door after them. England and the colonies were doing the right thing, blast it! Even the Prince of Wales was behind this scheme. He had attended a meeting a couple of years ago at Grocer’s Hall, where he listened to the prince himself state that child emigration was the only “completely successful form of migration”[3] during those present difficult economic times. England had a surplus of slum children and Canada had a surplus of space just waiting for them. The Prince of Wales himself put down the first £1,000 to get the Canadian farm school going. Everyone knew how important it was to maintain the supply of good British stock going into Canada to keep it within the British Empire. Someone else would fill Canada’s empty spaces if the British failed to fill them first.
The Prince of Wales donated his own money to assist the fundraising goals of the Child Emigration Society, to help establish three more farm schools based on the 1912 Fairbridge model in Western Australia. The Prince of Wales Fairbridge Farm School was the first of this next group of farm schools.
The Times, Thursday, June 21, 1934.
The meeting stressed that child emigration was not a charity, but an Imperial investment. As a reminder, he had kept the article written about the meeting from the London Times: “Farm Schools for the Empire.”[4]