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Count and Countess Bathyany

Hare's journal, Dec. 12., Ripley castle

I found here Count and Countess Bathyany, people I was very glad to see. They retain their old castle in Hungary, where they are magnates of the first rank, but for some years they have lived chiefly in England, at Eaglehurst on the Solent, and receive there during the yachting season. The Countess has remains of great beauty and is wonderfully agreeable. As I sat by her at dinner, she talked much of Lady William Russell, and told me the story of Lord Moira's appearance, which she had heard from her own lips.

Lady William was at Brighton, where her friend Lady Betty - was also staying. One day when Lady Betty went to her, she found her excessively upset and discomposed, and she said it was on account of a dream that she had had of her uncle, who, as Lord Moira, had brought her up, and who was then Governor of Malta. She said that she had seen a very long hall, and at the end of the hall a couch with a number of female figures in different attitudes of grief and despair bending over it, as if they were holding up or attending to some sick person. On the couch she saw no one, but immediately afterwards she seemed to meet her Uncle Moira and embraced him, but said, with a start, 'Uncle, how terribly cold you are!' He replied, 'Bessie, did you not know that I am dead?' She recollected herself instantly and said, 'Oh, Uncle, how does it look on the other side?' - 'Quite different form what we have imagined, and far, far more beautiful,' he replied with a radiant smile, and she awoke. Her dream occurred just when Lord Hastings (formerly Lord Moira) died on a couch in a hall at Malta; but she told the circumstances to Lady Betty long before the news came.

Another story which Countess Bathyany told from personal knowledge was that of Sir Samuel Romilly.

Lord Grey and his son-in-law, Sir Charles Wood, were walking on the ramparts of Carlisle. The rampart is there still. It is very narrow, and there is only one exit; so if you walk there, you must return as you came. While they were walking, a man passed them, returned, passed them again, and then disappeared in front of them over the parapet, where there was really no means of exit. There was a red scarf round his throat. 'How very extraordinary! and how exactly like Sir Samuel Romilly!' They both exclaimed. At that moment Sir Samuel Romilly had cut his throat in a distant part of England.