SAFES AND BAGGAGE.
Shortly after this, while traveling in a palace car, and during the
night, Mrs. Lawyer lost some of her paraphernalia, and felt strongly
inclined to make a row about it; but I quoted the sublime words of
somebody or other, “Let us have peace,” and then told her that the
owners of sleeping cars--who receive pay in advance from travelers
merely for the sleeping accommodations afforded by their cars, and this
only from a particular class of persons, and for a particular berth, and
for a particular trip--are not liable as innkeepers for money or
property that may be stolen from the lodgers on their cars; and that, as
they only furnish sleeping accommodation for travelers who have already
paid the railway company--over whose line the cars run--for their
transportation, and receive no part of the fare paid for transportation,
they are not common carriers, nor are they liable for property lost or
stolen from their carriages. Mr. Chester M. Smith, who lost $1,180 on
the Pullman car “Missouri,” in the State of Illinois, in December, 1872,
was the innocent cause of the enunciation of the law upon this point.
The court held that a Pullman car is not a common inn--that it does not
accommodate persons indiscriminately--does not furnish victual and
lodging, but only lodging--affords no accommodation but a berth and
bed, and a place and conveniences for toilet purposes--does not receive
pay for caring, nor undertake to care, for the goods of travelers; but
the accommodation afforded is the result of an express contract, and
that the liabilities of innkeepers should not be extended to
others.[180]
We had passed from one State into another, and had now taken up our
quarters at a magnificent hotel (its name will not be mentioned, for I
do not desire to injure any of the other houses). As we stepped out of
the cab, we entered a vast and handsome office of white marble, and
passed up to the splendid parlors and luxurious bed-rooms above. The way
I wrote our names in the register, and asked for dinner in our private
sitting-room, led the gentlemanly clerk to believe that myself and Mrs.
Lawyer had but lately entered into a partnership for weal and woe; this
I found when the elegantly attired waiters served our dinner. The whole
service was one continued tribute to Love. On the soup tureen were
little Cupids, training a huge turtle; on the fish plates, as mermaids
and mermen, they were riding on salmon and dolphins; on the other
dishes, these naked little rascals flew about among beautiful birds, hid
under strawberry vines, or swung in spider-web hammocks from sprays of
wild blackberry; they dug in ravines like mountain gnomes, and pried and
lifted carrots with comical machinery, as though they were great bars
and ingots of yellow gold. Some of the dish-covers were shaped like
cabbages, and Cupids peeped from under every curling leaf; others,
again, gathered the vintage and trod the grapes. Last of all, on the
dessert service was represented the marriage of the queen of the flower
fairies, each piece a different flower, with a love perched on it, some
with torches, others with instruments of music; while the central stand
represented the ceremony itself; a scarlet cardinal-flower was saying
mass, and on the highest point of the dish, (which represented a church
tower,) a chorus of these sprites of Venus were tugging at the stamens
of a chime of fuchsias, like boys merrily pulling the ropes of wedding
bells. Each piece differed from the others, but there was a love in
every one. My wife was in raptures over the beautiful china, the
exquisite elves, the graceful flowers, the delicate sentiments, the
poetry in the artist’s soul thus moulded into form--hardened into a
thing of beauty, a joy forever. She could not restrain her exclamations
of delight, as course succeeded course, even in the presence of the
sedate attendants. Each new beauty called forth a new expression of
wonder and pleasure. She would scarce allow anything on her plate, so
anxious was she to study the devices and designs. I was calmer, being
older, hungrier, less ethereal, and feeling an inner consciousness that
a heavy bill would be the successor of these fairy scenes.
Even this dinner came to an end, long though we toyed over the dessert.
The china afforded a ceaseless topic of conversation, until at length
little fairies of another kind began to hang upon the long black lashes
which veiled my wife’s beautiful brown eyes, and we passed into our
bed-chamber.
Over the mantel-piece of our dormitory hung a card, on which was printed
the following:
“TAKE NOTICE.
“This building is fire-proof.
“Several robberies having taken place during the night, in the
principal hotels, the proprietor respectfully requests all visitors
to use the nightbolt.
“Money, jewelry, or articles of value are requested to be left at
the bar, otherwise the proprietor will not hold himself responsible
for any loss.
“A. B., Proprietor.”
My wife, who was rapidly increasing in legal knowledge and acuteness
under my able instructions, and was filled with the romantic idea of
becoming a veritable helpmate to me in my profession as well as in the
expenditure of my money, after reading the notice asked me if I was
going to hand over my valuables. I told her that Pollock, C. B., had
announced to the world that it was his opinion that such a notice did
not apply to those articles of jewelry which a person usually carries
with him--his watch, for instance--because, as the learned judge puts
it, such an article would be of little service to the owner if it were
nightly stowed away in the hotel safe.[181] His lordship, however, was
inclined to think that if the watch were a richly jeweled one, set in
valuable diamonds, it would be wiser to give it to the proprietor to
keep.[182]
“But that is an English decision,” remarked my wife, filled with the
genuine occidental opinion of oriental notions.
“Well, supposing it is,” I made answer, “it is in accord with the
American; and a New York judge once said that although a watch, a gold
pen, and pencil-case might in some sense be called jewels, still they
should be considered part of a traveler’s personal clothing, or
apparel--and one after retiring to rest for the night is not expected to
send down his ordinary clothing or apparel to be deposited in the
safe.”[183]
“But,” continued Mrs. Lawyer, “this notice is not exactly the same as
what one generally sees; it says nothing about the proprietor not being
liable for the loss of things above a certain sum.”
“No,” I replied, “and it’s all the better for us; for if the notice
required by law is not properly posted up in the office and bedrooms,
the proprietor cannot claim the benefit of the provision relieving him
from the liability imposed upon him by the common law of making good all
losses and damage to his guests’ goods and property, unless caused by
act of God, or of public enemies. It has been held in Iowa that such a
notice as this one does not affect the landlord’s position.”[184]
“To what extent can he shirk his liability?” queried my wife, glancing
at her large and well-filled Saratoga.
“That depends upon the particular statute of the country or State in
which he happens to live. If there is not a special law, no notice will
bind the guest, unless it can be proved that he has seen it before he
takes possession of his room,[185] or has assented to it.[186] In
England, an innkeeper, if he cause at least one copy of the law,
(printed in plain type,) to be exhibited in a conspicuous part of the
hall or entrance to his inn, will not be liable to make good any loss of
or injury to goods or property brought to the inn, to a greater extent
than £30, (unless it be a horse or other animal, or any gear
appertaining thereto, or any carriage) except when such goods have been
stolen, lost, or injured, through the willful act, default, or neglect
of the publican, or any servant in his employ; or when such goods have
been deposited expressly for safe-keeping with mine host, who, in such
case, may require them to be placed in a box, or other receptacle,
fastened and sealed up by the guest.[187] In New York, the law is very
similar,[188] being to the effect that the hotel-keeper shall not be
liable for loss of money, jewels, ornaments, or valuables, when he shall
have provided a safe for the custody of such property, and shall have
posted a notice to that effect in the room occupied by the guest, and
the guest shall have neglected to deposit such property in the
safe.[189] So particular are the courts upon this point, that when the
landlord of the Old Ship Hotel, Brighton, England, unintentionally had
the notice misprinted, so that the little word _act_ was omitted in the
sentence, which should have been, (as I have just stated) ‘where such
property shall have been stolen, lost, or injured through the willful
act, default, or neglect of such innkeeper, or any servant in his
employ,’ the Court of Appeal held that, as the notice contained no
statement which admitted the continuance of the common-law liability for
goods or property stolen, lost, or injured through the willful act of
the innkeeper or his servant, the proprietor was not protected. But Lord
Cairns carefully said that he was not prepared to hold that the
omission, in good faith, of a word or two, not material to the sense and
to the operation of the statute, would have such a disastrous
effect.”[190]
“My husband, remember
‘Brevity’s the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,’
and be brief. How can my poor brain hold all that you have said?”
“Don’t be alarmed, my dear, there is doubtless plenty of room in your
brain yet. But I was going on to say that though there is a tendency in
these degenerate days to lessen the great responsibility once imposed
upon these publicans and sinners, and to insist upon greater care on the
part of the guests, still statutes limiting the common-law liability of
innkeepers should not be extended to include property not fairly within
the terms of the acts. Where, for instance, as in the New York act,
money, jewels, or ornaments are exempted, then all property of a
different kind, including all things useful and necessary for the
comfort and convenience of the guest--all things usually carried and
worn as part of the ordinary apparel and outfit, as well as all things
ordinarily used or suitable to be used by travelers in doors or out, are
left in _statu quo ante_ the statute.”
“And what may that be?” asked Mrs. L.
“At the risk of the innkeeper.”[191]
“But would not a watch be considered a jewel or an ornament?”
“The law is very watchful--”
“Very watchful, indeed, when it has so many watch cases that it
considers pretty little Genevas neither jewels nor ornaments,” murmured
my wife _sotto voce_.
“The law is very watchful,” I went on, “over benighted travelers, and
has decided that it is not;[192] nor is a watch and chain,[193]
although, by the way, the Wisconsin judges have decided that an
innkeeper is not liable for the loss of a silver or a gold watch not
handed over for safe keeping, their act speaking of articles of gold and
silver manufacture.[194] The exemption is intended to apply only to
such an amount of money and to such jewels and ornaments or valuables,
as the landlord himself, if a prudent person and traveling, would put in
a safe (if convenient) when retiring at night. No one, possessed of half
a grain of that scarce commodity, common sense, would suppose that it
was the intention of the act to exempt the hotel proprietors from their
old common-law liability, unless the traveler emptied his pockets of
every cent of money and deposited it, with his watch and pencil-case, in
the safe, for perchance he might want these identical articles ere sweet
sleep his eyelids closed.[195] If, however, the innkeeper has complied
with the requirements of the act, he is not liable for jewelry stolen
from the bedroom, even though the guest has not been guilty of
negligence, provided he has had time and opportunity to make the
deposit.[196] My old friend, Mrs. Rosenplanter, was terribly unfortunate
in this respect. In July, 1863, she and her worthy spouse were _en
route_ from Trenton Falls to Saratoga, and arrived at the Delavan House,
Albany, at three in the afternoon. As dinner was on the table, they at
once dressed and went to dine. In about twenty minutes they returned to
their room and found that in the meantime their trunk had been broken
open and $300 worth of jewelry taken out. My friend sued the proprietor,
but the court ungallantly considered that she had had sufficient time
and opportunity to make the deposit, (though she had not been there an
hour) and so could not recover; although the judge admitted that no
person, under such circumstances, would have been likely to have handed
over his valuables to the innkeeper, and that there must always be a
brief period after the arrival of a guest before he can make the
deposit, and that during those golden moments the statute affords the
publican no protection. And, by the way, I remember that in this case
the court seemed to think that if a guest, on retiring for the night,
removes a watch or jewelry from his person, or leaves money in his
pocket, and neglects to deposit the same in the safe, the hotel-keeper,
if he has complied with the act, is exempt from all liability in case of
loss.”[197]
“You said,” remarked Mrs. Lawyer, whom the mysteries of the toilet had
revived, “you said that if the innkeeper put up his notice he would not
be liable to make good any loss of goods or property. Surely, if a watch
is neither an ornament nor a jewel, within the meaning of the act,[198]
it is goods or property, else it is not good for much.”
“It is very questionable whether the words ‘goods or property’ include
the necessary baggage of a traveler, his watch or personal effects, or
such money as a man in his travels usually carries with him; in fact,
down South it was held that it did not comprehend baggage.”[199]
“Well, what would you call baggage?” persisted my wife. “It would be
worth while knowing that, if an innkeeper is always responsible
therefor.”
“Just wait until I comfortably settle myself, and I will dilate on that
fruitful topic until you are satisfied.”
“What a base slanderer is Jules Verne,” said my spouse, as she daintily
nestled between the sheets.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Don’t you remember that he says that American beds rival marble or
granite tables for hardness. I am sure he never stopped at a good
hotel.”
“Now for a Caudle lecture as to the baggage,” I said. “_Imprimis_,
whatever a traveler on this sublunary planet takes with him for his own
personal care and convenience, or even for his instruction and
amusement,[200] according to the habits and wants of the station of
society to which he belongs, either with reference to the immediate
necessities or the ultimate purpose of his wanderings, must be
considered personal luggage;[201] and the rules of law governing the
innkeeper’s liability for the safety of a guest’s baggage, are the same
as those which regulate the responsibility of common carriers as to a
passenger’s baggage.[202] Articles of jewelry, such as you would
usually wear, are baggage;[203] but not the jewels and regalia
of a society.[204] A watch,[205] except in Tennessee;[206]
finger-rings,[207] but not silver spoons,[208] come within the same
category. One man was allowed to have two gold chains, two gold rings, a
locket, and a silver pencil-case.”[209]
“He must have been on his way to see his sweetheart, I fancy.”
“Gold spectacles are baggage;[210] so are opera glasses,[211] a
silver-mounted pistol, even for a Southern lady,[212] duelling
pistols,[213] or a gun;[214] but not a colt.”[215]
“A horse, then?” was facetiously queried.
“Not even a hobby-horse.[216] Brushes and razors, pens and ink, are
baggage,[217] and perchance a present.[218] So are the manuscripts of a
student;[219] but not the pencil sketches of an artist;[220] on this
latter point, however, the doctors of the law disagree.[221] According
to one judge, a concertina, a flute, or a fiddle might pass muster; but
his fellows, however much music they had in themselves, determined not
to be moved with concord of sweet sounds, so they out-voted their
musical confrere.[222] Shakespeare saith, ‘Let no such man be trusted;’
so, perchance, we must conclude that these judges were astray in their
law. In Pennsylvania, a journeyman carpenter may take his tools as
baggage,[223] though in Ontario he cannot,[224] any more than a
blacksmith can carry his forge, or a farmer his plow. Nor can a merchant
take his wares,[225] nor a commercial his samples,[226] nor a banker his
money,[227] nor a lawyer his papers,[228] though an M. D. may take his
surgical instruments;[229] nor may a seamstress carry her sewing
machine,[230] nor--Hark!
“What strain is this that comes into the room,
At midnight, as if yonder gleaming light,
Which seems to wander like the moon,
Were seraph-freighted? Now it dies away
In a most far-off tremble, and is still;
Leaving a charmed silence.
Hark! one more dip of fingers in the wires!
One scarce-heard murmur struggling into sound,
And fading like a sunbeam from the ground,
Or gilded vanes of dimly visioned spires!”
Here a fantasia on her nasal organ (which my wife always carried with
her, despite the decisions of anti-musical judges) vibrating
unmistakably through the chamber, dispelled the idea of heavenly
visitants, and informed me that my spouse had journeyed off to that land
of Nod, from whose bourn no baggage returns. Snoring, like yawning, is
infectious--sometimes; and this was one of the times.
* * * * *
“’Tis sweet to see the day dawn creeping gradual thro’ the sky,” and
feel that there is for one yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a
little folding of the hands to sleep; but even in the most fashionable
hotel the hour will at length come when one must shake off dull sloth
and burst the bonds of sleep, which at night are but as spider’s webs,
but in the morning have become even fetters of brass; and that miserable
hour came in time to me.
When I went down stairs to examine the register to see who had arrived
during the night, I found some excitement existing around the office. On
inquiry, (and who except a German savant ever beheld a row, small or
great, without seeking to know the wherefore thereof,) I learned that a
gent had the day before given the clerk a pocket-book to keep, and that
it had been stolen out of the desk; the owner was demanding restitution,
dollar for dollar and cent for cent, if not eye for eye and tooth for
tooth. The landlord said that the man had been negligent in not telling
the clerk there was money in the book.
“No, I wasn’t,” was the reply, “there was only $136 in it; and what but
money would you expect to be in a pocket-book--a tooth-pick?--a cigar?
I know that in Iowa an innkeeper had to cash up in a similar case,[231]
and I’ll make you do it if there is law or justice in this part of the
American eagle’s eyry.”
“In Kentucky,” said a by-stander, who seemed to hail from that State,
“an hotel-keeper was held liable for the loss by robbery of pocket money
retained by a guest in his own possession.”[232]
“And in Maryland,” said another Southerner, “it has been decided that a
traveler need not deposit in the office safe any money reasonably
necessary for his expenses that he may have with him.”[233]
“Yes,” I said, “there are other cases, also, which appear to establish
the point that a sojourner at an hotel may keep in his pocket or in his
room money enough to pay his daily way, and that if his purse be
surreptitiously disposed of, the landlord must make good his loss;[234]
yet still there is a very late New York decision, where my friend Hyatt
found to his cost, that where a landlord provides a safe, and puts up
the usual notices about it, and the visitor chooses not to place his
money in it, the proprietor of the establishment is not responsible for
the loss of any of the cash, not even for what would be required for
the guest’s ordinary traveling expenses.”[235]
“You speak of money enough for one’s daily wants and traveling expenses
being all that for which an innkeeper is liable,” said a gentleman who
had hitherto been a quiet listener.
“Well, sir, I do not like to speak dogmatically, but it seems that the
tendency of some modern decisions is to hold that the innkeeper should
not be liable for any money beyond that amount, even though put in a
safe, unless a special contract has been made, or it has been actually
delivered to the proprietor or his servant, with notice not only of the
kind of property it was, but also of the amount. It is not sufficient to
mark a package ‘money,’ for it is argued that it would be highly unjust,
and not founded upon any principle on which an innkeeper’s liability
rests, for a traveler to bring into an inn, unobserved, any amount of
valuables, without notice to the innkeeper, and hold him responsible for
their safe keeping. There should be a restriction or qualification of
such liability, if it exists; and that must be a warning to the
innkeeper of the extra risk he is about to run.[236] But the Court of
Appeals in New York State takes a different view, and holds that if one
complies with the law, and deposits his money in the safe, the innkeeper
is liable for the full amount, irrespective of the question whether or
not it was all required for the purposes of the journey.[237]
“And, I might add,” said my interlocutor, “the celebrated Story made no
exception, and seemed to consider it one of the A B C principles of law
that an innkeeper is liable for the loss of the money of his guest,
stolen from his room, as well as for his goods and chattels, and that
such liability extends to all the money of the guest placed within the
inn, and is not confined to such sums only as are necessary and designed
for ordinary traveling expenses.[238] Then, sir, our great Chancellor
Kent lays it down as admitting of no peradventure, that an innkeeper is
bound absolutely to keep safe the property of his guest within the inn,
whether he knows of it or not, and that his responsibility extends to
all his guest’s servants, and to all the goods, chattels, and moneys of
the guest, their safe custody being part of the contract to feed and
lodge for a suitable reward.[239] If you are not satisfied with the
words of these men--alike the pride and the ornament of America--let us
cross the ocean and hear what Sir Wm. Blackstone saith; he speaketh
after this wise: that an innkeeper’s negligence in suffering a robbery
of his guest is an implied consent to the robbery, and he must make good
the loss.[240] Then Lord Tenterden held that there was no distinction
between money and goods; and all the other judges of the court said
‘amen.’”[241]
“Excuse my interrupting you in your interesting remarks,” said I.
“Quite excusable, sir, for I am only speaking in the cause of right, and
because I think some judges are inclined to cut loose from the safe
moorings of the old common law, rendered dear to us by the adjudications
of the learned men of the Bench for generations past, both in the old
and new worlds; and I am satisfied that a contrary doctrine will be
terrible in its effects in this great commercial community of ours,
where our business men spend so large a portion of their time at inns in
pursuit of their calling.[242] But what were you going to say?”
“Simply,” I remarked, “that in the case before Tenterden the amount lost
was only £50, and it was stated to have been kept to meet daily expenses
only. He said he could see no distinction in this respect between an
innkeeper and a carrier; and there are many cases to the effect that a
carrier will not be responsible for any money of a passenger except what
is needful for traveling purposes and personal use,[243] unless the loss
was occasioned by the gross negligence of the carrier.”
“Well, other English judges have likewise held that an innkeeper’s
liability is not restricted merely to the guests’ travelling
expenses;[244] and if we recross the mighty ocean we find our judges in
firm accord with their confreres.”[245]
“But,” I said, “but in one case the amount was only two hundred
dollars,[246] and in another it was but twenty-five dollars.[247] And in
still another case decided, as you say, although the cash lost was more
than sufficient to pay the expenses of the man from whom it was taken,
still it was not his own; he merely held it to pay others, who were
stopping at the same house, and were witnesses in a suit which the
money-holder was superintending, or to pay their expenses at the
inn.”[248]
“On the other hand,” said the defender of the rights of the people, “in
a California hotel there was this notice: ‘Deposit your valuables and
money in the safe at the office;’ and a guest accordingly deposited a
large amount of gold dust and coin, which the proprietor received
without objection. Afterwards, the clerk was knocked down and the safe
robbed, it not being locked, and the publican was held liable for the
whole amount.[249] And where a man had stolen from his room a package of
jewelry, which the clerk had told him would be quite safe there, the
host was held liable, even in New York State.[250] And so, in Kentucky,
where a safe was robbed by a discharged clerk, although in this last
case the innkeeper had told the guest that he would not be responsible
for any money put in it.[251] It seems to me to be somewhat absurd that
the law should say that unless you deposit your money in the hotel safe
the proprietor will not be liable for its loss, and then when you have
placed it in the absolute and immediate control of the innkeeper, and,
perhaps, his dishonest servant, you should be met the next day, when
asking for your own, by the smirking and bowing proprietor, remarking,
_suaviter in modo_: ‘True, sir you gave me twenty thousand dollars for
safe-keeping, and I put it in my safe; but, like all riches, it has
taken to itself wings and flown away. However, my dear sir, here are one
hundred dollars to pay your expenses, and take you comfortably to your
journey’s end.’”
“There appears to be something to be said on both sides,” I remarked,
wearying of the discussion from which all others, save my adversary and
myself, had long since fled; for when the time comes for my funeral
expenses to be incurred, no one will be able (whatever my readers may
think) to say of me, as they did of Lord Macaulay,
‘There was no pain like silence, no constraint
So dull as unanimity. He breathed
An atmosphere of argument, nor shrunk
From making, where he could not find, excuse
For controversial fight.’”
“But I have the best of it,” said my antagonist. “It is a case of New
York State, like Athanasius, _contra mundum_.”
“At all events, you will agree with me that an innkeeper will not be
liable for loss of his guest’s money when he has intrusted it to the
care of some one else on the premises in whom he reposes
confidence,”[252] I replied.
“Certainly; and I remember a case where a man gave a bag of money to the
step-daughter of an innkeeper with whom he was particularly intimate,
having courted her in marriage, and the bag having disappeared, the
owner thereof got nothing.[253] And I trust that you will not deny that
the innkeeper is responsible, notwithstanding any notices up about
depositing in the safe, if the guest has not had time to get his
valuables put in there after his arrival.”[254]
“Oh, yes; and he is liable for their loss after the visitor has taken
them out preparatory to his departure.”[255]
Here two bows were exchanged, two backs turned, and four legs walked
off.