ON TAXING VANITY


That quaint idea of Sir Edward Clarke's that, as a revenue expedient in
time of war, we should impose a tax on those who have names as well as
numbers on their garden gates has a principle in it which is capable of
wide extension. It is the principle of taxing us on our vanities. I am not
suggesting that there is not also a practical point in Sir Edward's idea.
There is no doubt that this custom of giving our houses names is the source
of much unnecessary labour and irritation to other people--postmen,
tradesmen, debt collectors, and errand boys. Mr. Smythe--formerly Smith--of
236, Belinda Avenue, is easily discoverable, but what are you to do about
Mr. Smythe, of Chatsworth House, Belinda Avenue, on a dark night? How are
you to find him? There are 350 houses in Belinda Avenue, all as like as two
peas, and though Mr. Smythe has a number, he never admits it. Chatsworth
House is where he lives, and if you want him it's Chatsworth House that you
have to find.

The other night a friend of mine was called to the door at a late hour. It
was dark and raining and dismal. At the door stood a coal-heaver. "Please,
sir," he said, "can you tell me where Balmoral is? I've got a load of coal
to take there, and I've been up and down this road in the dark twice, and
can't make out where it is." "It's the fourth house from here to the
right," said my friend, and the coal-heaver thanked him and went away. That
illustrates the practical case for a tax on house names.

But it was not that case which was in Sir Edward's mind. His view is that
we ought to pay for the innocent vanity of living at Chatsworth House
instead of 236, Belinda Avenue. Now if that principle is carried into