The following article, from the issue of The Vote is part two of a series that started on .
A Red-Tape Comedy. — Ⅱ.
Red Herrings.
The importation into the case of a clause dealing with “foreigners” is
obviously a red herring, and not to be tolerated for a moment. I interpose,
therefore, to point out once again that the words of Section 45 are:— “Any
married woman living with her husband.” My contention is that my client is
“any married woman,” and so long as she comes within these words it does not
matter if she is an aborigine or a messenger from Mars. So this red herring
is abandoned, and another is introduced. The solicitor and the Commissioners
enter into a desultory discussion as to whether the Crown does not possess an
abstract right, under the Constitution, to levy tax on all its subjects. My
client is suddenly appealed to, and is asked to state whether she claims to
be a subject of the Crown, whether she “owes allegiance” to King George, and
whether she has become naturalised in this country!
I am again obliged to object, and I meekly explain to the solicitor that I
have always understood that married women cannot claim to be the subjects of
anybody (except their husbands, possibly) or “owe allegiance” to any
sovereign or government; neither can they possess a nationality or domicile,
nor obtain naturalisation. He seems unable to take this in all at once, but
in a minute or two it dawns upon him, and he says, “Ah! yes; that is so, I
believe.”
The Commissioners appear very bewildered and quite unable to understand why
married women should be in such an extraordinary situation. But as I have
stated that it is so, and the solicitor has agreed to it, they have to let
it go at that.
They then inquire whether my client’s husband is a subject of King George,
&c., and I again object,
explaining that we do not represent Mr. Burn, and therefore cannot speak for
him, and that, whatever he is or may elect to be, it has nothing to do with
our case.
For This Relief Much Thanks.
The solicitor now reads out, for the benefit of the Commissioners and the
Surveyor, a decision given by Lord Cairns, who said:— “I am not at all sure
that, in a fiscal case, form is not amply sufficient. If the person comes
within the letter of the law, he must be taxed. On the other hand, if the
Crown cannot bring the subject within the letter of the law, the subject is
free. Equitable construction is not admissible in a taxing statute, where you
can simply adhere to the words of the Statute.” “Oh, indeed, and so Lord
Cairns said that, did he?” remarks a Commissioner in a tone showing that the
declaration carried great weight with him. He seems quite relieved to find
that somebody has said something definite and tangible, and grateful to the
late lord for giving him such a clear lead. “And you think,” addressing the
solicitor, ”that the Crown has failed to bring the appellant within the
letter of the law?”
“I am of that opinion,” is his reply.
Gloomy Silence.
The Crown has nothing to say for itself now, and its representative, the
Surveyor of Taxes, is reduced to gloomy silence. This is a good thing for
everyone concerned, as had he offered to challenge this opinion, I am fully
prepared to administer to him a dose of Lord Blackburn, who said; “No tax can
be imposed on the subject without words in an Act of Parliament clearly
showing an intention to lay a burden on him. I think the only safe rule is to
look at the words of the enactment, and see what is the intention expressed
by those words.” I should also have felt it my duty to quote Lord Cotton to
him, who was of opinion that “a tax imposed upon the subject ought not to be
enforced unless it comes fairly within the words.” Or I might even have been
impelled to launch Lord Halsbury at his head, who goes further than all the
rest, as he says: “Whatever the real fact may be, I think a court of law is
bound to proceed upon the assumption that the Legislature is an ideal
person who does not make mistakes. It must be assumed that it has
intended what it has said. I think any other view of the mode in which
one must approach the interpretation of a statute would be attended with the
most serious consequences.”
But these weighty pronouncements are evidently not required on the present
occasion, Lord Cairns having proved (to use his own expression) “amply
sufficient.” So I can keep the others in reserve, to do me yeoman service in
some future encounter with the Crown.
The Plight of the Crown.
And now a horrible idea has penetrated the mind of one of the Commissioners.
He is the one who has been so impressed by Lord Cairns’ opinion; but it has
at last occurred to him that this opinion may cut both ways. If
Dr. Burn can secure immunity
on the strength of it, so possibly may her husband, and he inquires
anxiously: “Has the Crown any machinery by which it can reach Mr. Burn in
New Zealand, and levy this tax on him?”
“There is none that I know of,” replies the solicitor. “Mr. Burn appears to
be absolutely beyond the jurisdiction of the Crown, and out of reach of any
fiscal machinery.” “Then what is the Crown to do? On whom is the tax to be
levied? Here you have an income, and nobody can be made to pay the tax!” is
the pitiful lament of the Commissioners.
At this point the expression of these gentlemen irresistibly reminds me of the two officials, Ko-Ko and Pooh-Bah, in Gilbert and Sullivan’s comic opera of The Mikado of Japan.
It would not surprise me if they burst into “Here’s a state of things! Here’s a pretty how-d’ye-do!”
They seem to see the tax on my client’s income (already standing at nearly £30) slowly but surely dissolving into thin air, like the immortal Cheshire Cat of Alice in Wonderland, leaving behind nothing but a grin.
The solicitor shakes his head gloomily,
the Commissioners are lost in speculation as to who will pay; the Surveyor of
Taxes frantically insists that “Someone has to pay.” To which I reply that I
have no objection, provided the someone is not my client. He can write to New
Zealand and ask Mr. Burn to pay; or, if it is a matter of such great moment,
why not pay it himself!
I point out that my client and I have no interest whatever in this aspect of
the case, and that I do not feel inclined to cudgel my brains to find a
solution of the difficulty into which the Crown has floundered. It must find
a way out as best it can.
Useful Mother-in-Law.
Dr. Burn volunteers the
information that her husband may be coming to England one of these
days; in fact, it would never surprise her to see him walk in unexpectedly.
This seems to afford a gleam of hope for the Crown. And when it further
transpires that should a suitable appointment be offered to her
Dr. Burn may herself cut the
gordian knot by betaking herself to her native land, there seems to be a
feeling that it is her duty to take herself off as soon as possible, and so
relieve the Crown of her embarrassing existence.
“I suppose we shall have to hear something to show that the relations
existing between the appellant and her husband really are of a normal
character,” says a Commissioner to me. “Have you any evidence to give as to
that?”
“Oh yes,” I reply, “we have brought a letter from her mother-in-law.”
Ethel Ayres Purdie
(To be concluded.)
You’ll have to wait until for the exciting conclusion.
