But now, with shame be it spoken, in the full noonday genial splendour of our Reformed Church, with newspapers, the leading articles of which rise to a level with our greatest didactic writers, and are competent even to form the mind as well as to amuse the leisure hours of the young readers:  with every species of direct communication, we yet hold to fallacies from which the credulous in Charles’s time would have shrunk in dismay and disgust.  Table-turning, spirit-rapping, clairvoyance, Swedenborgianism, and all that family of follies, would have been far too strong for the faith of those who counted upon dreams as their guide, or looked up to the heavenly planets with a belief, partly superstitious, partly reverential, for their guidance; and in a dim and flickering faith trusted to their stars.

‘Dr. Bendo,’ therefore, as Rochester was called—­handsome, witty, unscrupulous, and perfectly acquainted with the then small circle of the court—­was soon noted for his wonderful revelations.  Chamber-women, waiting-maids, and shop-girls were his first customers:  but, very soon, gay spinsters from the court came in their hoods and masks to ascertain with anxious faces, their fortunes; whilst the cunning, sarcastic ’Dr. Bendo,’ noted in his diary all the intrigues which were confided to him by these lovely clients.  La Belle Jennings, the sister of Sarah Duchess of Marlborough, was among his disciples; she took with her the beautiful Miss Price, and, disguising themselves as orange girls, these young ladies set off in a hackney-coach to visit Dr. Bendo; but when within half a street of the supposed fortune-teller’s, were prevented by the interruption of a dissolute courtier named Brounker.

‘Everything by turns and nothing long.’  When Lord Rochester was tired of being an astrologer, he used to roam about the streets as a beggar; then he kept a footman who knew the Court well, and used to dress him up in a red coat, supply him with a musket, like a sentinel, and send him to watch at the doors of all the fine ladies, to find out their goings on:  afterwards, Lord Rochester would retire to the country, and write libels on these fair victims, and, one day, offered to present the king with one of his lampoons; but being tipsy, gave Charles, instead, one written upon himself.

At this juncture we read with sorrow Bishop Burnet’s forcible description of his career:—­

’He seems to have freed himself from all impressions of virtue or religion, of honour or good nature....  He had but one maxim, to which he adhered firmly, that he has to do everything, and deny himself in nothing that might maintain his greatness.  He was unhappily made for drunkenness, for he had drunk all his friends dead, and was able to subdue two or three sets of drunkards one after another; so it scarce ever appeared that he was disordered after the greatest drinking:  an hour or two of sleep carried all off so entirely, that no sign of them remained....  This had a terrible conclusion.’