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Eu Law Text Cases and Materials 7Th Edition Full Chapter
Eu Law Text Cases and Materials 7Th Edition Full Chapter
Table of Abbreviations
Acknowledgements
Table of Cases
Table of Treaties, Instruments, and Legislation
3 THE INSTITUTIONS
1 Central Issues
2 The Commission
(a) President of the Commission
(b) College of Commissioners
(c) Commission Bureaucracy
(d) Powers of the Commission
(e) Downfall of the Santer Commission and Subsequent Reform
(f) Role of the Commission
3 The Council
(a) Composition
(b) Presidency of the Council
(c) Committee of Permanent Representatives
(d) Council Secretariat
(e) Powers of the Council
(f) Role of the Council
4 The European Council
(a) Composition
(b) Presidency of the European Council
(c) Rationale
(d) Powers
(e) Role of the European Council
5 High Representative of the Union for Foreign Affairs and Security
Policy
(a) Powers
(b) Role of the High Representative
6 European Parliament
(a) Composition and Functioning
(b) Powers
(c) Role of the European Parliament
7 Courts
(a) Court of Justice
(b) General Court
(c) Specialized Courts
(d) Reform of the Court System
(e) Advocate General
(f) Procedure Before the Court
(g) Style of the Court’s Judgments
(h) Role of the Court
8 The Court of Auditors
9 EU Advisory Bodies
(a) Economic and Social Committee
(b) Committee of the Regions
10 Agencies
11 Conclusions
12 Further Reading
4 COMPETENCE
1 Central Issues
2 Impetus for Reform
3 Lisbon Strategy
(a) Categories and Consequences
(b) Express and Implied Power
4 Exclusive Competence
(a) Basic Principles
(b) Area Exclusivity
(c) Conditional Exclusivity
5 Shared Competence
(a) Basic Principles
(b) Pre-Emption
(c) Scope and Variation
(d) Shared Competence and Retained Power
6 Supporting, Coordinating, or Supplementary Action
(a) Basic Principles
(b) Scope and Variation
(c) Legal Acts, Harmonization, and Member State Competence
7 Economic, Employment, and Social Policy
(a) Basic Principles
(b) Category and Legal Consequence
8 Common Foreign and Security Policy and Defence
9 Broad Treaty Provisions: The ‘Flexibility’ Clause
(a) Article 308 EC
(b) Article 352 TFEU
10 Broad Treaty Provisions: The Harmonization Clause
11 Subsidiarity
(a) Pre-Lisbon
(b) Post-Lisbon
12 Conclusions
13 Further Reading
14 PRELIMINARY RULINGS
1 Central Issues
2 Foundations: Article 267
(a) Questions That Can Be Referred
(b) Courts or Tribunals That Can Refer
(c) Courts or Tribunals That Must Refer
(d) Relationship Between National Courts
(e) National Court Raising EU Law of Its Own Volition
3 The Existence of a Question: Development of Precedent
(a) National Law in Breach of EU Law and Prior CJEU Rulings
(b) The Validity of EU Legislation and Prior CJEU Rulings
(c) CJEU Rulings and Legal Certainty
(d) Conclusion
4 The Existence of a Question: The ‘Acte Clair’ Doctrine
Summary
5 The Decision to Refer: The National Court’s Perspective
6 The Decision to Accept the Reference: The CJEU’s Perspective
(a) The Liberal Initial Approach
(b) The CJEU Asserts Authority Over Cases Referred
(c) Cases Where the CJEU has Declined Jurisdiction
(d) Recommendations to National Courts on Preliminary
References
(e) Limits of the Power to Decline a Case
(f) Summary
7 The Decision on the Reference: Interpretation versus Application
8 Development of an EU Judicial System: National Courts and the
CJEU
(a) Precedent
(b) Acte clair
(c) Sectoral Delegation
9 Development of an EU Judicial System: CJEU, General Court, and
National Courts
(a) The Caseload Problem
(b) Limiting the National Courts Empowered to Make a
Reference
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and numbers of people we should like to meet here. You
remember he had come back invalided from the Soudan, and
though he was quite young, about thirty, he had gained great
distinction. He was Major Caruth, I think, and his name must
have been Alexander, for his mother called him 'Alec.'
Everyone liked them both, but we used to think him just a
little reserved."
"He had nearly died, and he was all she had," replied Mrs.
Evans. "Heir to a fine property, I believe. I scarcely think that
Mrs. Caruth could be the one Joyce mentioned. Was it likely
there would be any intimacy between the daughter of a poor
country clergyman and people of position like those Caruths?"
"But not always their wives and daughters," said Mrs. Evans.
"Did you notice the name of the place Joyce's friend lived at? I
have the address of those we met at Mentone; it was Ferns—
something—crag, probably."
"I can hardly think that," replied the girl; "I could not imagine
Joyce saying an untrue word. She is not that sort of girl. And,
mamma, she is my cousin and a lady, though she is not rich. I
cannot help feeling sorry for her. If these friends of hers
should turn out to be the Caruths we met, and at some future
time we should see them again, what will they think of us for
letting Joyce go?"
"Think, you foolish girl! What can they think? Just that as she
was too proud to go to Fernsclough, she was too headstrong
to be guided by us, and went her own wilful way. You need not
trouble your head about that."
CHAPTER IV.
THOUGH Joyce Mirlees' twenty-first birthday brought some
clouds and storms, it was not wholly without peace and
brightness. More than a dozen letters reached her from
various quarters. Her uncle did not forget Joyce, but wrote
warmly and lovingly, and promised to be at The Chase before
she left it.
Other letters were from old friends at Welton, who did not fail
to send birthday greetings and simple gifts to their former
pastor's daughter. One packet, containing some beautiful
fancy articles, came to her from her Sunday scholars, who had
worked them for the dear teacher whose absence they
regretted more and more, they said. Yet it was plain that one
and all pictured Joyce amongst loving kinsfolk, and amid
luxuries of every kind, for they seemed half afraid that their
simple tokens of love would look very poor and mean amongst
her birthday gifts in her new and splendid home.
There was one more letter not named hitherto, which, though
full of kindness, brought some disappointment. The writer,
Mrs. Caruth, said all that could be expected from an old and
true friend. But there was no other message, though she
mentioned casually that her son, being quite well, had
rejoined his regiment instead of availing himself of the longer
leave at his disposal.
It was still early evening, and Joyce was in her own room,
when she heard a light tap at the door, and the words, "May I
come in, Cousin Joyce?"
"Yes, my uncle has always been kind, and I have had Sarah
Keene. Besides, I was but a stranger who had to win the
affection of strangers, though they might be relatives; and I
really believe you care for me after all!" cried Joyce, looking
up into Adelaide's face, and smiling through the tears which
her cousin's words had brought to her eyes. "Forgive me,
Adelaide. I want forgiveness, too, for I have judged you rather
hardly, I am afraid."
"No, you have not; I have never been kind, but I want to be
now." And two pairs of arms went out, and two girls' lips met
for the first time in mutual affection and forgiveness. Then
they sat down side by side, each encircling the other with one
embracing arm.
"I should not have minded about working early and late if you
had wanted help and we had worked together," said Joyce. "If
any one here had been ill, I should have thought nothing too
much to do for them, night or day. Supposing that my uncle
had been poor, and had given me a home with his children, I
would have slaved for him and them most cheerfully, and
taken care that his kindness should have cost him nothing in
the end. But you are all rich, and every wish can be gratified;
and the thought of being sent to sew under the orders of
Russell was—"
"Do not ask me, dear; I cannot take it," said Joyce.
"Yes, and I will take a gift, too, and prize it. Spend ten
shillings on a little brooch in cut steel, and I will wear it, and
never part with it while I live. And give me your likeness; I
should like to have it, though I shall always picture your face
as it looks to-night."
"You shall have these trifles, Joyce, and I will keep this, no
matter how long, until you are willing to wear it." And
restoring the ring to its case she put it into her pocket. "Now
what else can I do for you?" she asked.
"My uncle breakfasts earlier than you and the rest do. I have
been used to pour out his coffee and join him at table. I think
he will miss me at first. Will you sometimes breakfast with
him?"
"How selfish I have been not to notice this, or care for his
loneliness! Rely on me, I will breakfast with him always,
unless by some special chance I have been up very late the
night before."
But she smiled as she said it, for she was glad to think that
the father and daughter would be brought together by her
own departure.
"Then what?"
"Her son came home for a time, and she had him, and I
became more of a companion to my father."
"I believe I have seen both Mrs. Caruth and her son. Does she
call him Alec?"
"He is very fond of his mother, and she of him," said Adelaide.
"Indeed, he seems a good, noble-minded man altogether.
Augusta thought there was no one like him during the eight
weeks we spent at Mentone."
"He neither troubled himself about her nor any other girl. I
mean so far as paying special attention went. He was
everything that was kind and courteous, but the elder ladies
and the children absorbed the larger share of his time—
somewhat, I think, to the disgust of the grown-up girls. If
hazarded a guess, it would be that he had no heart left to
give, and that he was far too noble and true a man to pay
unmeaning attentions, which could lead to nothing but regrets
and pain for another. I suppose he has no sister, or he would
be a model 'brother of girls.'"
"Not now, dear. But if ever the time should come when I can
be sure you all wish for me, or if I am needed by any, I will
return."
Adelaide was obliged to be satisfied with this. The girls parted
with expressions of affection and pledges of future friendship;
and Joyce laid her head on her pillow with a lighter heart than
she had done for months past.
Mr. Evans was expected home the evening before his niece
was to leave The Chase, but in place of him came a telegram
—
Joyce was to leave the station at nine, so her uncle would not
arrive till after she was gone. Mrs. Evans declined to see her,
but sent word that when Joyce came to her senses, and was
prepared to submit and acknowledge she had done wrong,
she might write and say so.
Moved still further by the new and better feelings just born in
her heart, Adelaide declined to drive with Mrs. Evans and
Augusta, and went instead to meet her father on his return at
noon.
"That first kiss was poor Cousin Joyce's," she said. "She left it
for you, and I promised to deliver it."
"Joyce's! She is surely not gone? I thought you would all have
joined to keep her until my return. My only sister's only child
to leave The Chase in such haste!"
"She could not stay. I tried hard to persuade her, for, papa, I
am sorry I have not been kinder to Joyce. We are friends now,
dear friends, and I hope we shall always be so. I cannot blame
Joyce for going. How could she stay? But you do not know all
yet. I trust things will turn out better than they seem to
promise. I think I ought to tell you all about Joyce's birthday
and what was said, only you must promise to say nothing to
mamma. I cannot help thinking she is a little sorry now, and
she is more likely to feel regret about Joyce's going if no one
speaks of it."
Then Adelaide told her father all that had passed, and Mr.
Evans listened, not altogether sadly, for his daughter made
the most of all that had been bright for Joyce on her birthday
—the loving letters and souvenirs from Welton, Mrs. Caruth's
consideration for her cousin's safe convoy, the opening of
hearts between themselves, and the new-born friendship,
which was to bind them more closely than the ties of
relationship had done.
There was much to cheer Mr. Evans in what he heard from his
daughter, and acting upon her suggestion, he made no
allusion to Joyce's departure. His silence was both a relief and
a reproach to his wife, who expected a scene, and was
conscious that, in spite of her desire to free herself from a
sense of responsibility, she could not even excuse herself for
her treatment of Joyce.
"Now another, papa," she said. "That is for Joyce. You must
give me one every morning for her, as I am her deputy."
CHAPTER V.
JOYCE reached the station nearest to Springfield Park at three
o'clock, having had a change of trains, and a stoppage of an
hour and a half on the road. Mrs. Caruth's maid, returning
direct to Fernsclough, would rejoin her mistress before six.
Her train would not, however, start for twenty minutes, so she
was able to tell her mistress that she had seen Miss Mirlees in
charge of a grey-haired coachman, who, with two little girls,
awaited her arrival.
"Are you the young person for Springfield Park?" asked the
man.
"No doubt Mrs. Ross feels that the children are safest with
you," said Joyce.
"Just so. She has had time to know what I am, for I drove her
when she was no bigger than the least of them, and I was in
her father's service. Now you step in next the eldest one—
Miss Mary. She should have been a boy by rights, but nobody
would like to change her for one now. Your things will be
brought by that lad, who has a trap close at hand. They are all
together, I suppose?"
"Come in," cried the elder child. "We wanted to see you, so
mamma let Price bring us. I am Mary, 'papa's Molly,' they call
me, and that is Alice. She turns her face away because she is
shy, but she will be friends soon. Mamma said we must be
very good and not make you sorry, because you have no
father and mother."
Tears sprang into Joyce's eyes, which the child noted instantly,
and her own face grew sorrowful.
"Why do you cry?" she said. "Let me kiss the tears away, as
mamma does mine, if I am only sorry, not naughty."
"There, that is right. Now look how pretty the park is, and see
the deer under the trees. They feed out of our hands, and
they will know you very soon, because you will be with us."
The little girls had been taken charge of by Mrs. Ross's maid,
Paterson, and the housekeeper told Joyce that when she was
ready she was to come to her own room for refreshment.
"Here are your boxes in good time," said Mrs. Powell; and
thus Joyce was able to make the needed change in her dress.
She was about to go down, when, recollecting her new
position, she turned back for one of the aprons, ironed so
carefully by Sarah Keene's hands, and over which, as badges
of coming servitude for her darling, she had shed many a tear.
"I always have an early cup of tea," said Mrs. Powell, "and I
thought it would be the best for you, along with something
more substantial, after a journey. Your future meals will be
taken upstairs with the children. Mrs. Ross will see you in the
morning; but she and the master are away—only for the day;
they will be back to-night. My mistress trusted you to me, and
I promised to make you comfortable," said Mrs. Powell, with a
look of great kindness in her motherly face.
To Joyce this was like having her old friend Sarah Keene by
her side, and she thanked the kindly housekeeper most
heartily and gratefully for her encouraging words.
But the tea was being neglected, and Mrs. Powell turned
Joyce's attention in that direction; so, impelled by a healthy
girlish appetite, she made a hearty meal, much to her new
friend's satisfaction.
One hour after she spent with the children, of whom, however,
she was not to take formal charge until the morning. Then the
housekeeper, being at leisure, showed her through the house
and a portion of the gardens, and finally left her to indulge in
happier thoughts than she could have imagined would be
possible to her under her new circumstances.
Joyce rose early and dressed the children, the little one having
overcome her shyness, and being now willing to make friends.
She was sitting, telling them a baby-story, when Mrs. Ross
entered the nursery after breakfast, and greeted her with the
utmost kindness.
"
Springfield Park, Sept. 6th."
"After three months, dear old nurse and friend,
I can say that I am glad I came here. Every one
is good to me; the children are so sweet that it is
delightful to work for them; and I do work,
Sarah."