CHARMS OF FURNISHED APARTMENTS.
“_De gustibus non est disputandum_,” was originally observed by a man of
sense, however many blockheads may since have repeated it; and as my
tastes in the matter of comestibles did not harmonize with those of the
several respectable boarding-house keepers beneath whose roofs we
successively took shelter, it was settled in a committee of the whole
family that Mrs. Lawyer and myself should take furnished apartments in a
genteel street, or a furnished house--that Mrs. L. should be appointed
Commissary-General, with one Bridget or Biddy O’Callaghan as
Deputy-Acting-Assistant Commissary-General under her, while I should
continue to hold the responsible post of Paymaster-General to the entire
force.
In due time, after a considerable reduction in our stock of the virtue
of patience and of the thickness of the soles of our boots, a suitable
suite of rooms, furnished in a style agreeable to our taste, in a
locality not objectionable and at a rate proportionate to the depth or
rather shallowness of my pocket, was discovered and all necessary
arrangements made with the landlord.
To avoid all possibility of future disputations with the owner, (and
especially as a contract to let lodgings is a contract concerning an
interest in land within the meaning of that celebrated troublesome
statute passed in the twenty-ninth year of his rascally majesty, Charles
II, and entitled “an act for the prevention of frauds and perjuries,”
and so must be in writing,[414]) determined to follow the good advice of
Mr. Woodfall, and have our agreement reduced to black and white. My
instructions to my clerk in preparing the document were, to specify the
amount of rent, the time of entry, the length of notice to quit required
and such other particulars as the nature of the case rendered requisite,
and to have a list of the goods and chattels in the apartments affixed.
Alas, I found the truth of the old adage, that a lawyer who acts for
himself has a ---- well, not a Solomon--for his client. An unexpected
event, however, saved me. The very evening before we were to enter into
our new abode a bailiff, on behalf of the real owner, for my
acquaintance had but a lease of the place, visited the house and seized
a part of the furniture for rent overdue; luckily none of my personal
belongings had been taken in--if there had been any of them they, too,
would have been liable to distress for the rent. I had stupidly
neglected to inquire whether the taxes or the rent of the house were
paid up, and whether they were likely to be kept so.[415] Of course I
knew that if I had at that particular period of my existence chanced to
have been living in New England, or in New York State, or in some of
the other States of the Union, I could not have been troubled if in that
house, as the power of distress exists in those places no longer;[416]
but we were in a State in which it is still retained, or at least was
then.
When I told my wife of the narrow escape we had had she asked me if I
had ever made inquiries as to whether the landlords of the hotels at
which we stayed were in arrear for rent.
“No,” I replied; “the rule is different in respect to hotels.”
“Why?”
“For the benefit of trade; otherwise business could not be carried on at
all.”
“But what would we have had there except my cat and bird, our clothes,
and your books?” urged Mrs. L.
“Nothing more would have been wanted.”
“Could they have taken our clothes? I thought all such things were
exempt.”
“Generally speaking, they are from seizure for debt; but not from
distress for rent, unless they are in actual use at the time. In 1796
Mr. Baynes, who had furnished lodgings at half a guinea a week, was two
months in arrear, and a bailiff appeared upon the scene and took his
wearing apparel and that of Mrs. B., although part of it was actually in
the wash-tub at the time; and Lord Kenyon said it was all right.[417]
The same judge decided in another case that a landlord could legally
take the clothes belonging to a man’s wife and children, while
they--the ‘clothes screens,’ as Carlyle calls them--not the
clothes--were in bed, although the bipeds intended to put them on in the
morning, and had been daily in the habit of wearing them, on the ground
that they were not in actual use.[418] But Kenyon, my dear, sometimes
said absurd things. For instance, once, when indignant at the delay of
an attorney, he exclaimed, wrathfully, ‘This is the last hair in the
tail of procrastination.’”
“The law seems very hard. Why, that poor woman would have to stay in
bed. But talking of tails, could they have taken my cat--my beautiful
pussy?” said Mrs. Lawyer, looking over where
The cat’s dark silhouette on the wall,
A couchant tiger’s seemed to fall.
“Well--ah--in Coke upon Littleton it is said, no; but the reason given
is that cats are things in which no man can have an absolute and
valuable property; and that reason might not be applicable to the case
of a costly Angora like yours, and you know, _cessante ratione cessat et
ipsa lex_; but your bird might have been taken.”[419]
“It seems strange that the landlord can take the property of other
people to pay his tenant’s debts.”
“It does; and in many parts of this country only the goods of the debtor
can be taken,[420] and the judges are generally inclined to deliver the
lodger from the claws of the landlord; and so it has been held that
while the goods of an assignee of the tenant are liable, those of a mere
under-tenant are not;[421] and in England, of late years, an act has
been passed for the protection of the lodger’s goods from the claims of
the landlord for rent due him by his immediate tenant.”[422]
“But if our things had been taken to pay the rent, could we not have
made the other boarders contribute their share?”
“No, I am afraid not,”[423] I answered.
* * * * *
Our intended rooms being now somewhat denuded of their necessary
furnishings we arranged with our landlord-about-to-be to send in all
necessary articles within a reasonable time. Unfortunately, however,
this new arrangement was not embodied in our written agreement; so I
found out--when too late--that our landlord (a man of the eel kind) was
not bound to put in the furniture. If it had been in writing, it would
then have formed an inseparable part of the contract, and the man could
not have obtained his rent until he had done his duty.[424]
We had scarcely got settled in our new quarters before we discovered
that our rose possessed a thorn or two. The morning after our arrival,
we were honored with the visit of a choleric gent, who informed us that
he occupied the rooms on the flat below and that our water pipes had
leaked through and damaged irreparably some of his property. I am
thankful, however, to say that I was able to point out to him that the
defects in the pipe could not have been detected without examination;
that as we did not know of them, and had not been guilty of any
negligence, we were not liable for the damage which he had unfortunately
sustained, there being no obligation upon us to keep--at our peril--the
water in the pipe.[425]
We next had trouble about a stovepipe which had to pass through another
person’s room. When we began to put it up our neighbor threatened to
take it down and stop up the hole; but knowing that as there had been a
pipe through his room before the surly fellow moved in he only had the
room subject to the easement of the stovepipe and hole,[426] I remained
firm and steadfast, and finally won a way for the obnoxious, black,
cylindrical smoke-conductor, and we hoped to hear the kettle sing
merrily, and the pots bubble, and spirt, and boil in peace, if not in
quietude.
But our triumph was not for long. Barely was the stove in full blast
when the boiler attached exploded with a terrific uproar. Considerable
damage was done; my wife was clamorous that I should at once interview
the landlord, especially as we thought that the accident could not have
happened had there been a safety-valve to the boiler; but I said that
it would be useless to talk about it unless we could prove that he knew
of the defect, or had reason to suspect it, or that damage was to be
apprehended from the use of the boiler for the purpose for which it was
intended;[427] although on one occasion the courts held a landlord
liable for injuries arising from the explosion of gas, caused by the
pipes in the tenant’s room not having been properly secured.[428]
In the afternoon it began to rain in the style commonly called “cats and
dogs,” or “pitchforks,” and soon we heard pit--pit--pit,
patter--patter--patter, spit--spit--spit, spatter--spatter--spatter,
sounding nearer than the dripping outside would seem to warrant, and on
investigation we found that the rain was coming through the roof and
dropping down in ugly splashes upon one of our most handsome and costly
volumes.
“Can we make the landlord pay for the damage done by his old leaky
roof?” asked my wife, as with her best cambric handkerchief she tried to
swab up the wet.
“I fear me not. I remember Baron Martin saying that one who takes a
floor in a house must be held to take the premises as they are, and
cannot complain that the house was not constructed differently. This
storm may have blown off some shingles, and then, even if our landlord
is bound to use reasonable care in keeping the roof secure, he cannot
be held responsible for what no reasonable care and vigilance could have
provided against. He cannot certainly be considered guilty of negligence
if he has caused the roof to be examined periodically, and if it was all
secure the last time it was looked at.[429] Still, in New York State it
was decided that where a landlord, who himself occupied an upper flat,
allowed liquids to leak through into his tenants’ rooms, he was
liable.”[430]
“I should think, indeed, that a man should keep his house in repair, so
that his tenants’ goods are not ruined,” indignantly said Mrs. Lawyer.
“You may say that, but the law says quite the reverse. It is perfectly
clear that a landlord is not bound to do any repairs, however necessary
they may be, except such as he personally agrees to do. The law will not
imply any contract of that sort on his part. That was decided in a case
where large gaps opened in the main walls, and it took several hours of
hard pumping daily to keep the water out of the basement.[431]
“In New Hampshire, I admit, it has been held that where a landlord
negligently constructs his building, or negligently allows it to
continue out of repair, he is liable for injuries to his tenants;[432]
and in New York the rule is said to be that when buildings are in good
repair when leased and afterward become ruinous and dangerous, the
owner is not responsible unless he has expressly agreed to repair.”[433]
“Surely, then, one has not to pay rent when a house is in such a
wretched state? I suppose we are not bound to stay here.”
“Yes, to both your queries. The only cases in which a tenant has been
permitted to withdraw from his tenancy and refuse payment of rent are
where there has been some error or fraudulent misdescription of the
premises, or where they have been found to be uninhabitable in
consequence of the wrongful act or default of the landlord himself;[434]
and it is not perfectly clear that he can do so even then.[435] But I
must go out for the present, my dear. Fare thee well.”
In the hall down stairs I met Mr. Screwhard, our landlord, a gentleman
who, from his personal appearance, would have accumulated a large
fortune as an undertaker; for from his countenance you could no more
have coaxed a smile than you could have out of a poker. As I was bidding
him a hurried “Good morning,” he placed his body, so long, so lean, and
so straight that you might have taken it for a telegraph pole in
consumption, before me, and said, in tones which would have well become
the ghost in Hamlet--
“You must be in by nine o’clock, sir; we lock the front door then.”
“Gammon!” said I; “you will have to unlock it, then, to let me in; for
when you rented me the rooms you impliedly granted all that was
necessary for their free use and full enjoyment, such as the use of the
hall and stairs whenever required, and not only when you choose.”[436]
“I will yield to your wishes for this night only,” said Screwhard, in a
voice as solemn as if he were about to be cremated; “but mind, rap with
your knuckles on the door; in time your wife will hear and can let you
in, for I must be allowed to have unbroken slumbers; my health demands
that most imperatively.”
“Stuff and nonsense!” I replied; “I have a right to use the bell and the
knocker, as nothing was said to the contrary before;[437] and I shall
use them.”
And impatient with the old fellow I passed on, saying to myself: “The
man must be a fool. An action will lie against him if he attempts to
interfere with our use of the necessary adjuncts of his furnished
apartments. To be sure if we were bad tenants, he might, in mitigation
of damages, show that he acted so to make us leave.[438] But we have not
been long enough for that.”
Apollo stayed not his fiery steeds in their downward career towards the
happy isles of the west that day, and Phœbus’ sickly-looking sister held
sway in high heaven when I again reached the door of my new domicile.
With me was Tom Jones, who was anxious to see the rooms. Mrs. Lawyer
received us in the parlor with a face full of disgust, and after the
interchange of a word or two with Tom, calling me aside, made the horrid
announcement that our bedrooms were fully occupied by animals of a small
size, broad for their length, darkish in color, scented,
anthropophagous, and designated by the same letters as very dark drawing
pencils.
I disclosed the fact to T. J., who, being somewhat of a naturalist,
might, I thought, be able to prescribe some cure for this new found
evil. He at once exclaimed:
“I tell you what, old fellow, some scientific folks say that these
creatures always retire from public life to their own quarters about
midnight. Test the point. You tumble into bed at once, and I will
endeavor to entertain Mrs. Lawyer until twelve, and will call in the
morning to hear the result of the experiment.”
“You’re very kind, I am sure. But I am always willing to share things
equally with my wife; besides, when two are in bed the creepers lose
time in deciding which to bite, so one can get occasional naps.
To-morrow we will quit,” I replied.
“But can you give up your lodgings in that summary manner?”
“Long since it was decided that where a man rents ready furnished houses
or lodgings and they are infested by bugs, the tenant may leave without
paying rent. Baron Parke, in giving judgment, said that the authorities
appeared fully to warrant the position that if the demised premises are
encumbered with a nuisance of so serious a nature that no person can
reasonably be expected to live in them, the tenant is at liberty to
throw them up. And he said that this was so because of the implied
condition that the landlord undertakes to rent the place in an habitable
state. Lord Abinger, in the same case, went even further, and gave it as
his opinion that no authorities were wanted to establish the point, and
that the case was one which common sense alone enabled them to decide. A
man, he remarked, who lets a ready furnished house, surely does so under
an implied condition, or obligation, that the house is in a fit state to
be inhabited. His lordship had no doubt whatever on the subject, and
thought that tenants under such circumstances were fully justified in
leaving.”[439]
“But have not other equally learned judges had very grave doubts upon
the subject?” queried Jones.
“Well, I must confess that later cases have somewhat shaken the
authority of the one I have been referring to, and it has been held that
there is no implied warranty in a lease of a house, or of land, that it
is or shall be reasonably fit for habitation, occupation, or
cultivation, and that there is no contract, still less any condition,
implied by law on the demise of real property only that it is fit for
the purpose for which it is let.”[440]
“Does not that put an extinguisher on the authority you cited?” said
Jones.
“No; in some of these latter decisions the case of a ready furnished
house is expressly distinguished upon the ground that the letting of
such a house is a contract of a mixed nature, being in fact a bargain
for a house and furniture, which, of necessity, must be such as are fit
for the purpose for which they are to be used. Abinger was particularly
strong on the point. He said that ‘if a party contract for the lease of
a house ready furnished, it is to be furnished in a proper manner, and
so as to be fit for immediate occupation. Suppose,’ said he, ‘it turn
out that there is not a bed in the house; surely the party is not bound
to occupy it or continue in it. So, also, in the case of a house
infected with vermin; if bugs be found in the bed, even after entering
into possession, the lodger or occupier is not bound to stay in the
house. Suppose again,’ he continued, ‘the tenant discover that there are
not sufficient chairs in the house, or that they are not of a sort fit
for use: he may give up possession.’[441] And so late as April of the
year of grace 1877, Lord C. B. Kelly said that he was of the opinion,
both on authority and on general principles of law, that there is an
implied condition that a furnished house shall be in a good and
tenantable state and reasonably fit for human occupation from the very
day on which the tenancy is dated to begin, and that where such a house
is in such a condition that there is either great discomfort or danger
to health in entering and dwelling in it, then the intending tenant is
entitled to repudiate the contract altogether.”[442]
“Well, that is strong, I am sure.”
“Abinger held that the letting of the goods and chattels, as well as the
house, implies that the party who lets it so furnished is under an
obligation to supply the other contracting party with whatever goods and
chattels may be fit for the use and occupation of such a house according
to its particular description and suitable in every respect. And Judge
Shaw, of Massachusetts, says that in the case of furnished rooms in a
lodging house, let for a particular season, a warranty may be implied
that they are suitably fitted for such use.”[443]
“I should think,” said Jones, “that a would be tenant ought to go and
inspect the premises for himself.”
“If he has an opportunity of doing so it might, perhaps, make a
difference, but if he takes it upon the faith of its being properly
furnished, common sense and common justice concur in the conclusion that
the owner is bound to let it in an habitable state. So saith the Lord
Chief Baron.”[444]
“I believe that it has been held in this country that the existence of a
noxious smell in the house did not authorize the tenant’s leaving.”[445]
“Indeed. My lady, the Dowager Countess of Winchelsea, agreed to rent a
furnished house in Wilton Crescent, London, for three months of the
season of 1875 for the sum of 450 guineas. When her ladyship arrived
with her servants and personal luggage, she perceived an unpleasant
smell in the house, and declining to occupy it, had her horses taken out
of the stable. On investigation, it was found that the drainage was in a
very bad state, rendering the house quite unfit for occupation. In three
weeks’ time, however, matters were put right, but her ladyship refused
to go back or to pay rent. A suit was brought, in which the whole court
unanimously held that the state of the drains entitled the Countess to
rescind the bargain and to refuse to pay rent.[446] Abinger thought that
if a tenant, on entering his lodgings, found out that the previous
occupier had left because some one had recently died in them of the
plague or scarlet fever, he would not be compelled to remain.[447] And
in Massachusetts it was decided that a tenant who caught small-pox
through no fault of his own, but because the owner wilfully neglected to
inform him that the house was infected with that disease, might recover
damages from the landlord.”[448]
Just then a slight movement on the part of Jones made the chair on which
he was perched creak, crack, stretch out its legs, and let him down. As
he was hastily apologizing for the damage, I remarked:
“Don’t trouble yourself, the occupier of furnished apartments is not
responsible for deterioration by ordinary wear or tear in the reasonable
use of the goods of the landlord.”[449]
“I’ll go now, at all events, as I am up,” said our friend, as he seized
his hat and made his adieux.
_Quære_, was that a white handkerchief protruding slightly from his
pistol pocket? Indispensables are tighter now-a-days than they used to
be.