“RAISING THE WIND.”

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 29, Issue 35, 8 May 1917, Page 2

“RAISING THE WIND.”

TAXES WHICH MAKE YOU SMILE, The Briton’s broad back has never lacked its burden of taxes ever since that enterprising Roman, Julius Caesar, levied a toll of so many men and wild animals to be sent yearly to Rome, to furnish sport for his legions' and his ladies by killing each other in the arena of the Coliseum ; and it must be said to his credit that, however absurd and iniquitous they may have been, he has, as a rule, borne them like a man. Even the Welshman raised no voice in protest (not that he is a greater grumbler than his English brother) when Edgar the Peaceable, after bringing the little Principality to its knees, demanded a yearly tribute of three hundred wolves’ heads, a toll which was so zealously paid that within four years there was no wolf left in all its forests. And the Englishman was equally long-suffering when the Pope, generation after gensration, depleted his purse by one tax after another, including the famous “Peter’s pence.” There were few men who escaped the

tax-collector in the days when the Conqueror put an impost on every "field and farm, mill and fish-pond, wood and bit of forest-land, pig and cow,” that was mentioned in Domesday Book ; and introduced all those

feudal fines on knighthood, marriage 5 and bo on which helped bo much to fill the exchequers of our Norman and Plantagent Kings. And when, in later years, the poll-tax imposed an annual payment of a shilling (a substantial sum in those days) on everyone over the age of fifteen, the net waa spread wider still. But it was in the seventeenth century that taxation began to develop the ingenuity which reached its climax within living memory. The first Charles, an expert in such devices, actually levied a tax on all his subjects who left their country seats to make their home in London ; and he added millions to his revenue by granting monopolies for the sale of a wide range of articles, from wine to soap and salt, taking a liberal percentage of the grantees’ profits. In the time of the Commonwealth a quaint tax was introduced—the payment to the Treasury of the cost of one meal per week, per head ; and Charles 11, still further invaded the sanctity of the home by demanding a toll on the very hearths at which his subjects warmed themselves. The dawn of the 18th century witnessed the advent of a new and prolific brood of imposts,' many of them absurd, not a few of them stupid and harmful. It was William 111. who

was responsible for the first paper duty which was such an intolerable burden for more than a century and a half—it was, in fact, only abolished as recently as 1861. At one time it reached the alarming figure of £2B a ton ; and when, in 1831, Charles Knight published his “Penny Encyclopaedia,’’ it is said his bill for paper-duty alone amounted to £20,000. So formidable was it that in 1803 the paper used had dwindled to 14,000 tons ; and only 28,000 tons were used in 1831. To make matters worse for publishers, Queen Anne put a duty of a penny a sheet on newspapers ; an impost which was increased to fourpence by George 111., and was only abolished in 1855. And, not content with this outrage, her Majesty, in 1712, imposed a duty of three-and-sixpence on every advertisement whiclj appeared in the papers. In the early years of the 18th century, “hatches, matches and dispatches” were all made to yield revenue to the exchequer ; and the man who had not the .courage or opportunity to face the altar was not allowed to Mcape. The celibate Duke, for example, had to pay £l2 11/ a year for Sis unblessed condition ; if he relentjd and took to himself a wife, his ,’ecreancy • coat him £SO 4/. On the &irth of his eldest son he was called on for a contribution of £3O 2/, and

lor £25 2/ for each succeeding son. When his wife left him a widower he was taxed £SO 4/ (the exact cost of marrying her); and when he buried a son he had to pay precisely the same sum as when that eo:' came into the world.

Thus the scale dc r.zv .dad, through marquises, earls, and so on, to the bachelor whose income fell below £SO i year, who had to pay a yearly shilling as long as he remained unsrcd, half-a-crown when he married, md similar small sums on the death

of hiß wife or the birth of a son. Among the legion of taxes, many o! ,hem absurd, imposed by Pitt was one on hair-powder—a yearly tax of a guinea demanded from a householder for every person under his roof who used powder for his queue. From this tax .Pitt confidently expected a revenue of at least £200,000; but his Ultimate went sorely astray, for the

wings, under the leadership of the, Duke of Bedford and Lords Jersey, and Anglesea, met in solemn conclave j and clecided, rather than pay the tax, to cut off their precious queues. But although hair-powder was thus left, almost entirely to menser vents, the tax survived feebly until 1864. , Little more successful, at least in its earlier years, was the dog-tax, j which had its birth in 1796. For, many a long year dog-owners were ; called on to pay a heavy toll, rang- j ing from 9/8 yearly for all non-! sporting dogs to £1 2/ for a greyhound ; but even when Mr. Gladstone ( in 1853, reduced the tax to a uniform 12/, not a fourth of the owners paid. The pest of stray dogs in London be-, came intolerable until the tax was reduced to a modest 5/, a sum to to which half-a-crown was later added. Another of Pitt’s unpopular, taxes was the impost on shopkeepers, j which, although it was only a moder-, ate charge on the rental, aroused such j opposition that it had to be aban- j doned ; and his tax on auctioneers j proved disastrous to the revenue, j for, as it relieved them from the j necessity of taking out a licence for | beer and spirits, they turned their | activities to the sale of intoxicants, and waxed rich at the expense of the Exchequer.

The odious window tax, which was borne by our forefathers for a century and a half, was another fiscal blunder which did far more harm than good. It must have been responsible for much ill-health consumption, anaemia, and other foulair maladies —for in 1850 there were only, on au average, six windows in English houses. Not only were glazed windows taxed, but any hole in the wall was included. Indeed in the early days only the rich could afford the luxury of glass windows, which were so precious that they were carried from one house to another when their owners removed.

The taxpayer of to-day who looks on himself as an aggrieved person may at least congratulate himself that he escapes taxes by the hundred which were demanded of past generations. In those mis-called “good old days” there were few things that eluded the tax-collector. The very hat a man wore bore a revenue stamp ; his watch paid from half a crown to ten shillings to the Exchequer ; his clock five shillings. Gloves and mittens, perfumes and toothpowder, glass bottles and bricks all paid their quota ; and female servants were taxed from half-a-crown to half-a-sovereign each.

We read of one wag who rode his cow to market as a protest against the tax on his horse : and of another who chalked 'the words, “Pitt’s Books, Vol. 1., Vol. II.,” and so on on the bricks which blocked up win-dow-spaces to evade that statesman s levy on the light of day.

Sydney Smith tells us that in his time there were taxes on “every article which enters the mouth, or covers the hack, or is placed underfoot. The schoolboy whips his taxed top, the beardless youth manages his taxed horse, with a taxed bridle on a taxed road ; and the dying Englishman, pouring his medicine, which has paid 7 per cent., into a spoon which has paid 15 per cent., flings himself back on a chintz bed which has paid 22 per cent., and expires in the arms of an apothecary who has paid 100 per cent, for a licence. ’’ That this picture is by no means exaggerated we know from the fact that three years before Sydney Smith’s death the number of articles subject to Customs duties was 1,052 ; and in 1845 it had grown to 1,1G3. But of all .these devices to raise revenue the most futile was undoubtedly Robert Lowe’s proposed tax on matches which roused such a storm of disapproval in 1871. The Bast of London was instantly ablaze with indignation. Five thousand matchgirls, with bands, banners, and waggons, set out to march to Westminster, and fought their way through a triple barrier of police into Palace Yard, while the object of their anger sought ignominious escape from their wrath in an underground drain. A few days later the comic papers set England shaking with laughter at the spectacle of the Chancellor cower-, ing in terror before a horde of infuriated work-girls ; and the matchtax was finally extinguished by the blast of ridicule which swept from every corner of the country.—“ Weekly Telegraph.”