builds a political romance. In his view, Lyttelton, expelled from
Parliament, lavished his genius and exuded his spleen in the
'Letters of Junius.' Taking his seat in the Lords, he fights for
his own hand, is bought and muzzled, wrenches off his muzzle, blazes
into a fierce attack on the wrongs which he is weary of witnessing,
the hypocrisy which he is tired of sharing, makes his will, sets his
house in order, plays one last practical joke by inventing the story
of the ghostly warning, surrounds himself with dissolute company,
and at midnight on November 27 deliberately fulfils his own
prediction, and dies by his own hand. It is a tale creditable to
Coulton's fancy. A patrician of genius, a wit, a profligate, in
fatigue and despair, closes his career with a fierce harangue, a
sacrilegious jest, a debauch, and a draught of poison, leaving to
Dr. Johnson a proof of 'the spiritual world,' and to mankind the
double mystery of Junius and of the Ghost.

As to the identity of Junius, remembering the warning of Lord
Beaconsfield, 'If you wish to be a bore, take up the "Letters of
Junius,"' we shall drop that enigma; but as to the alleged suicide
of Lord Lyttelton, we think we can make that seem extremely
improbable. Let us return to the course of events, as stated by
Coulton and by contemporaries.

The warning of death in three days, says Coulton, occurred (place
not given) on the night of November 24, 1779. He observes: 'It is
certain that, on the morning after that very day' (November 25),
'Lord Lyttelton had related, not to one person alone, but to
several, and all of them people of credit, the particulars of a
strange vision which he said had appeared to him the preceding
night.' On Thursday, the 25th, as we saw, he spoke in the Lords.