Why people are dying to have a mortgage

Howard Richler

To paraphrase Benjamin Franklin, nothing is certain, except death, taxes and a mortgage.

This thought comes to me during the spring of our discontent — tax season, coinciding with the arrival of The Senior Times real estate issue. The etymologically minded will have noticed that at least two of the three blights itemized above involve the departed. “Mortgage” literally means “death pledge” as it marries the Old French mort (death) and gage (pledge). The depressing idea underlining this word is that if the mortgagor fails to repay the loan, the property pledged as security is lost or “dead” to him or her.

I’m sorry to be the bearer of such cause for angst to mortgage holders, but to mitigate the pain of the word “tax,” I thought I might be able to eviscerate its sting by an etymological deconstruction of terms connected to taxation.

During the Middle Ages in England, taxes were exacted from underlings by the upper echelons of society. Among these servile dues were the merchet — a fine paid for marriage, the heriot — seizure of a family's prime beast on the death of the tenant, and the compulsory use of the lord's mill for grinding the family corn.

Not surprisingly “tax” as a verb took on the sense of “to take to task” by the 16th century and “to burden or prosecute” in the following century. “Income tax” was first introduced as a war tax in England from 1709 and occasioned this naive comment some years later: “The existing income tax should not be retained a moment after it is dispensed with.” Yeah, right!

While working on your income tax return you will no doubt encounter the nefariously wee word “fee.” Originally, under feudal law, this word referred to an estate held on condition of homage and service to your lord, who retained full ownership of the land. So although we might not be happy to pay a tax on services, we can take heart that the essence of the word was transformed as we moved from feudalism to capitalism. Originally, “fee” only referred to something owed to a superior as an obligation, whereas in the post-feudal period the word is more associated with choices available in the marketplace.

If you are exuding saline sweat and tears to earn the salary income tax is based on, you are etymologically correct. In Roman times, salt was so highly valued that soldiers were allowed a sum of money to buy salt, since salt was not easy to obtain and served the purpose of maintaining as well enhancing the savour of food. Later this money, called salarium, came to refer to the stipend paid to the soldiers. Hence, if you are indeed earning your salary, you are “worth your salt.”

If you are working your heine off to increase your purchasing power and fill coffers with goods and services taxes, take note of the original rapacious and disorderly meaning of the word “purchase.” The “pur” part is a variant of the innocuous French pour (for), but the “chase” element relates to hunting or wresting by force — in other words, obtaining an object by whatever means necessary. In Old French, an enfant de porchas did not refer to an adopted or “purchased” child but to an illegitimate one.

So, I hope this etymological perspective serves as a reminder to file your return by April 30th, and you need not feel guilty if you have attempted to lower your tax burden. Economist John Maynard Keynes claimed “the avoidance of taxes is the only pursuit that still carries any reward.”

Howard Richler’s latest book is Can I Have a Word With You? He can be reached at hrichler@sympatico.ca.