COINCIDENCES.BY SIR LAURENCE GOMME.
BY SIR LAURENCE GOMME.
A few weeks ago some remarkable examples of coincidences were recorded in the newspapers. They were the actual experiences of the writers, or the guaranteed experiences of relatives or intimate friends. Their genuineness cannot be called in question. But they are all isolated examples, each of them being communicated by different correspondents. Even as such they were sufficiently remarkable to make it worth while to ask whether coincidences in the order of things human play a definite part in life’s drama, in the science of life perhaps one ought to say, or whether they are so accidental and non-influential as to have no bearing upon the problems of life.
If they have a bearing on the unexplored meanings of human action, they seem to me to belong to individual, and not to social, man. They might explain the individual action of Julius Caesar, Napoleon, and the great ones of the world; they might be one of the influences which have apparently made individual men rulers of human destiny for a time. But to prove any such theory as this, even if it be a possible theory at all, one must deal, not with single examples of coincidences which occur to different people, but with a series of examples which have happened to one individual. The comparative study of coincidences in separate lives would, it occurs to me, be not only scientifically valuable, but of intense interest to all who are fond of reading the lives of men who have made a mark in the world.
So much for the psychological aspect of what may be expected from the study of coincidences. In my small life as a student and public servant it happens that I have had two or three remarkable examples of coincidences. They principally belong to my literary life, and have always been of special interest to me; they have remained in my recollection as a sort of indication that the line I was taking was, on the whole, the right line. Upon my pledged assurance that they are all true, I propose to relate them for the amusement of my readers, and with a hope that more important cases may be related in due course. They are merely anecdotal and have no other interest beyond, perhaps, supplying a new chapter of the ‘Curiosities of Literature.’ I propose as faras possible to treat them chronologically in groups, as they have no possible relationship one with another. They will be related quite simply, and with many circumstantial details omitted.
The first incident which I have to relate is connected with my friendship with Henry Charles Coote, lawyer and historian. I had lent to me a copy of his little book, ‘A Neglected Fact in English History’ (London, 1864), and arranged to begin reading it one Sunday morning in 1876, while I walked through Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens on my way to luncheon at Shepherd’s Bush. The brilliant little preface fascinated me. The still more brilliant pages in which his thesis of a Roman origin for the people of Britain was developed carried me right away, and I did not put the book down until I had finished it. As I read the last page, I remember saying to myself ‘I must know this man and I believe I shall know him.’ I met Mr. Coote at the first meeting of what was afterwards the Council of the Folklore Society on December 19, 1877. He sat next to me, and to my delight, after the meeting had concluded, he proposed to walk with me as far as Waterloo Place, with the result that we stood opposite the Athenæum Club for over an hour talking of things that interested both of us. He promised me a copy of his ‘Neglected Fact,’ and I have the volume before me, as I write, with his inscription to me written on the title-page. From that day we became fast friends. He never ceased to do kindnesses to me, and I never ceased to think of him with gratitude and affection. We used to discuss his special view of British history, and I gradually fell away from accepting this view. This made no difference to our intercourse until the end came. It impressed me with extraordinary force. Mr. and Mrs. Coote always spent their summer holiday in Italy, the Italy he loved so well, and returning in October, I generally met him for the first time after their journey at the November meeting of the Society of Antiquaries. In 1884 I went to this meeting as usual, but all during the evening I had been feeling strangely uneasy. I did not expect to see Mr. Coote there. And he was not there. On the next day I called upon him with every foreboding of evil, and I found him stricken down with paralysis, the seizure having taken place the night before just at the time when I was feeling so strangely anxious about him. Perhaps this may be a mere case of telepathy between two people with kindred ideas, but the coincidences are too close for this hypothesis. They are indeed too close to be described in anecdotal form, but I like the recollection to open the story of coincidences which I have to narrate.
I have one other coincidence to record, which belongs to the same sort of experience. After my father died, my mother and sisters came to stop with me for a short time while their affairs were being settled. Some pieces of family furniture, portraits, etc. were brought to my house. Among these was a library chair belonging to my father, and it was placed in my own library.
About this time I was being pressed by an official friend to attend a meeting at his house, for the purpose of taking part in a spirit rapping ceremony, but had always declined, because I did not believe in the phenomenon. However he particularly pressed me to come on account of my father’s recent death, saying I should be certain to learn something. Perhaps my nerves had been worn by recent events. In any case I consented to come, and I remember wearing my father’s watch chain and seal for the first time, to attune me to the atmosphere. I told no one at my house that I was going for this particular purpose. They thought I was simply going out to dinner in the ordinary way. My object in this silence was obvious. It was not to disturb the minds of those at home.
On arrival at my friend’s house we had dinner and then adjourned to the drawing-room. The whole company sat round a largish table holding hands. Several members of the company described certain experiences and conducted conversations with spirit manifestations. But I was absolutely unmoved and looked upon the whole thing as unreal and made up. I left the house angry with myself for giving way to such nonsense.
Reaching home, not very late, I let myself in with my latch-key, and was immediately met by my wife, my mother and sisters having retired, who was strongly agitated and troubled. The explanation was that about ten o’clock she was working in the library as usual, and looking up from her seat she saw the form of my father seated in his usual way in his old chair. And ten o’clock was the time when I, an unbeliever in spirit manifestations, had been seated at the round table gathering of spirit believers. The coincidence is remarkable, and I have ever since been deeply impressed by it, but it has not made me a believer in spirit manifestations.
My remaining coincidences are of a much more ordinary character. The first case occurred in 1882, when I was reading Elton’s ‘Origins of English History.’ On page 194 he describes from a printed collection the manorial customs of Taunton Deane in his owncounty of Somersetshire. For my own studies I wanted to examine these customs. I sought for the book in vain at the British Museum, at the Law Society’s Library, and at other libraries to which I had access. And at last I determined to appeal to Mr. Elton himself. At that time I did not know him well. He replied, pointing out the great value of the book, owing to it being printed locally for the use of the tenants of the manor and not for publication, and stated the probability of his copy being the only one in existence. Eventually he lent me the book on condition that I returned it within a week. It reached me one Monday morning, and in the evening I commenced to copy the entire book. It consisted of 132 and xxix pages of a small octavo, and its title was ‘The Ancient Customs of the Manor of Taunton Deane; collected from the records of the Manor presented by the Jury at the Law Day Court, the twenty-fourth of April 1817, and published under their sanction. By H. B. Shillibeer, Land surveyor etc. Taunton, 1821.’ I finished my copying for the night, a dozen pages or so, skipping the introduction of twenty-five pages. Among my letters on Tuesday morning was a catalogue from Hindley, the bookseller in the old Booksellers’ Row in the Strand, and the first entry which caught my eye was Shillibeer’s ‘Customs of Taunton Deane’ marked in the catalogue for three shillings and sixpence. Breakfast had no longer any interest for me, and I posted up to London and secured the copy, which still holds its place in my library. I have a note of one other copy in a Manchester catalogue at fifteen shillings, but have never met with another copy in a catalogue or in a library.
Always having been a student of manorial customs, I had sought for a copy of Elton’s ‘Tenures of Kent,’ 1867, which had gone out of print, and I remember the joy with which I at last secured a copy in Chancery Lane, and was assured it was the last copy in the market. But another manorial experience is more curious. The London County Council had succeeded to the rights of the Lord of Manor of Tooting Bec in connection with the purchase of Tooting Bec Common as an open space for London by the Metropolitan Board of Works. The Court Rolls of the Manor and documents relating thereto passed into possession of the Council, and in 1900 the Council decided to commence the publication of its records with that portion of these manor rolls which terminated with the reign of Henry V. Examination of the rolls showed two gaps, one a portion of the reign of Edward IV., and a second the period between the years 1443 and 1447. While editing thefirst volume for the Council, published in 1909, I had the good fortune to discover, in a second-hand catalogue, the missing rolls from 1443 and 1447, and the Council purchased them to include in the fine collection. My luck in coincidences had served me well in this instance. One other example comes from my collection of manorial books. ‘Extracts from the Court Rolls of the Manor of Wimbledon extending from 1 Edward IV. to A.D. 1864’ was published in 1866, and I picked up a second-hand copy. But there was a second volume published in 1869, consisting of ‘extracts from miscellaneous MSS., some of them purporting to be custumals and terriers,’ and I sought for a copy of this volume for many years in vain. At last one of my coincidences occurred. I was on my way to visit friends at Wimbledon one Saturday afternoon, and in the Waterloo Road I secured a copy of this second volume, picked out of a ‘twopenny box’ of pamphlets and small books.
Coincidences from the library do not, however, limit themselves to one subject. Some years ago I was due to dine with a folklore friend at Twickenham, and at luncheon time, on the same day, I sauntered up Whitcomb Street to look at a second-hand book-stall, from which I had occasionally secured some bargains. On this occasion my luck did not desert me, for I purchased, for, I think, the modest twopence so dear to book hunters, four volumes of ‘Times Telescope.’ This was a sort of calendar published annually, from 1801 to 1821, describing itself as ‘a complete guide to the almanack, containing an explanation of Saints’ days and holidays, with illustrations of British history and antiquities, notices of obsolete rites and customs,’ etc. This last feature was, of course, the centre of attraction to folklorists, and the information collected in these volumes is certainly curious and interesting, forming as they do forerunners to Hone’s ‘Year Book’ and ‘Every Day Book’ and Chambers’ ‘Book of Days.’ I did not feel equal to taking all four volumes with me to Twickenham and back again home, so I left three of the volumes at my office, and proceeded with my remaining treasure to my dinner appointment.
After dinner we were taking our coffee in my friend’s library, and of course talking of the books on the shelves, and I incidentally mentioned that I had that very morning secured a find. Upon informing my friend that the find consisted of some volumes of ‘Times Telescope,’ one of which I had brought with me, he eagerly asked to see it, and we proceeded to the hall where my coat was hanging.My friend took the volume from my hands, very hastily I remember, looked at the cover very narrowly, and then at the title-page, and proceeded with the volume in his possession, back to the library, where he promptly mounted the library steps and placed my volume in a vacant space on his shelves. It was the one volume he wanted to complete the series. The explanation was curious. He had collected all the volumes, but could not find a copy of this particular one. It had a curious misprint. The title-page showed the year to be 1812, but on the cover the figures had been transposed to 1821, and hence collectors had made mistakes over this volume time out of mind. The coincidence in this case was a double one. There was my purchase in the morning, and then my accidental selection of this volume to carry down to my friend’s house in the evening. Of course I left the volume there.
Another such coincidence occurred on a visit to my old friend Edward Solly at Sutton, where he had built himself a library, which was full of rarities dear only to an enthusiastic bibliophile. Mr. Solly never came home from a journey to London without bringing a book with him as an addition to his treasures, and I well remember the joy of browsing in his magnificent library. Among other treasures, he had a great collection of Swift’s works, first editions and the best of all the later editions. On the occasion of one of my visits to him, he showed me a copy of the first edition of ‘Gulliver’s Travels,’ and then interested me by drawing attention to the book-plate and arms of a previous owner, ‘James Gomme.’ I told him of my relationship to this member of my family, my great-grandfather, and then he informed me that he only possessed two volumes of the three as published, and that he despaired of ever getting the third. I possessed that third volume, and had always mourned its lost fellows. Next day I sent my volume to Mr. Solly, thus adding a quite unusual example to my list of coincidences.
My next examples of coincidences, three in number, relate to the curiosities of research, and they are all three of a remarkable character. In writing my book on the ‘Governance of London’ (1907) I described the mode of land settlement outside London as compared with the mode inside London, and wrote as follows (pp. 162-163): ‘One has only to consult old London maps to discover easily in various parts the acre strips of ancient arable lands which distinguished London before the building of the housesand, which determine the position and site of houses to this day.’ I instanced the houses at Putney facing the river, for information as to which I was indebted to my friend Mr. Walter Rye, and then my discovery of a parallel case furnished by Park Lane, the line of frontage of which is so splendidly irregular. I had examined this irregularity very closely, and incurred the watchful attention of the police in so doing, and I concluded that it was due to the separate ownership of acre strips upon which owners built their modern property in succession to the ancient cultivating methods of Teutonic settlements. But I could find no proof of this conclusion, and my book was printed with the mere surmise. Almost immediately afterwards I discovered the needed proof from a map of the Ebury estate in the Crace collection, a ‘mapp or plot of the Lordship of Eburie being situated in the parish of St. Martins in the Fields Mary Dammison being proprietess by Henry Morgan 1675.’ This map showed the eastern side of Park Lane before it was built upon, and running parallel to Piccadilly, and therefore at right angles to Park Lane, are depicted the separate acre strips, with the names of the different owners marked on each strip. Proof of my unconfirmed conclusion was thus completed, and this coincidence of research was gleefully added to my memory of the other instances which have now been related in this paper.
The second example of a coincidence in research work is almost uncanny. I was at work upon my ‘Making of London’ (1912) and was behindhand with my proofs. On a Friday morning I received a special request from the publishers to send off the revised proof of a sheet not returned in its proper order. A difficulty had arisen. This part of the proof dealt with the relationship of the Tower of London to the city, and my story was incomplete without the evidence of the Tudor period. I could find nothing, and my morning’s work of research ended fruitlessly. We expected a distinguished visitor immediately after luncheon, and I knew there would be no chance of my finishing the proof after his arrival. I was singularly vexed at my want of success, and suddenly I said to myself ‘I can’t get any information by ordinary means, I will try extraordinary.’ I have no idea what led me to this decision. I was not in a credulous mood, but frankly annoyed with myself. Taking down a volume, selected by mere chance, of the folio edition of the ‘Report of the Historical Manuscripts Commission,’ printed in double columns and containing some hundreds of pages, I stuck my paper-knife into the top of the volume, on the principleof the old practice of Sortes Virgilianae, and turned to discover the results. On the right-hand page of the volume thus arrived at I found the record of a legal case drawn up by Lord Coke dealing with the very subject upon which I was interested. Such a coincidence is surely quite remarkable, even in a lifetime of literary research.
My last example is even more remarkable because it is more important in its results. I have been studying the tradition of London for some time, and am satisfied that I have made some important discoveries, which I hope soon to be in a position to publish. A fragment of this tradition was communicated toThe Athenæumby a distinguished scholar, and it was important to the case I was developing, especially if I could trace it to a Celtic source. But I had no evidence of this. Now business took me to Cardiff shortly after my discovery of this fragment, and I was occupied there for some few days. On the Saturday before returning home I journeyed to Caerleon to see the Roman remains there, and thoroughly enjoyed my morning’s visit. I wanted to go on to Caerwent to continue investigation there, and negotiated with the landlord of the inn to drive me over. While waiting for the trap being made ready, I talked to the landlady about the antiquities of Caerleon and asked whether there were any traditions of the place. She mentioned several quite well-known superstitions current in many parts of the country and believed in by the people of Caerleon, and then suddenly repeated almost word for word the fragment of London tradition in which I was so interested. The Caerleon people believed in and practised this London traditional rite definitely because it was a London rite, and the Celtic aspect of which I was in search was thereby established.
This short survey of coincidences in the experience of one person may be useful in more ways than one. Smaller occurrences have happened, but it did not seem worth while to note them. They seem to have produced a sort of feeling that my ‘luck’ was considerable, and accordingly I have thought it worth while to record them in the hope of discovering whether they have any value beyond that of interest for the curious.