With life all other passions fly
All others are but vanity—
In Heaven, Ambition cannot dwell,
Nor Avarice in the vaults of hell.
Earthly these passions as of earth,
They perish where they had their birth—
But Love is indestructible....”
The ghost of popular belief almost invariably exhibits the survival of Avarice, Revenge, or some other thoroughly earthly passion, while for the sake of the purest, noblest, tenderest Love scarcely ever has a single Spirit of the departed been even supposed to return to comfort the heart which death has left desolate. The famous story of Miss Lee is one exception to this rule, and so is another tale which I found recorded in an MS. Memorandum in the writing of my uncle the Rev. Henry Cobbe, Rector of Templeton (died 1823).
“Lady Moira[[5]] was at one time extremely uneasy about her sister, Lady Selina Hastings, from whom she had not heard for a considerable time. One night she dreamed that her sister came to her, sat down by her bedside, and said to her, ‘My dear sister, I am dying of fever. They will not tell you of it because of your situation’ (she was then with child), ‘but I shall die, and the account will be brought to your husband by letter directed like a foreign one in a foreign hand.’ She told her dream to her attendant, Mrs. Moth, as soon as she awoke, was extremely unhappy for letters, till at length, the day after, there arrived one, directed as she had been told, which contained an account of her sister’s death. It had been written by her brother, Lord Huntingdon, and in a feigned hand, lest she should ask to know the contents.
“She had many other extraordinary dreams, and it is very remarkable that after the death of her attendant, Moth, who had educated her and her children, and was the niece of the famous Bishop Hough, that she (Moth) generally took a part in them, particularly if they related to any loss in her family. Indeed, I believe she never dreamed of her except when she was to undergo a loss. Lady Granard told me an instance of this: Her second son Colonel Rawdon died very suddenly. He had not been on good terms with Lady Moira for some time. One night she dreamed that Moth came into the room, and upon her asking her what she wanted she said, ‘My lady, I am come to bring the Colonel to you.’ Then he entered, came near her, and coming within the curtains, sat on the bed and said, ‘My dearest mother, I am going a very long journey, and I cannot bear to go without the assurance of your forgiveness.’ Then she threw her arms about his neck and said, ‘Dear Son, can you doubt my forgiving you? But where are you going?’ He replied, ‘A long journey, but I am happy now that I have seen you.’ The next day she received an account of his death.