The Duke of Devonshire looked as if he came to be crowned instead of his master.

I never saw so princely a manner and air.
The Chancellor looked like Mephistopheles behind Margaret in the church.
The ceremony was much too long, and some parts of it were carelessly performed.

The Archbishop mumbled.

The Bishop of London preached, well enough indeed, but not so effectively as the occasion required; and, above all, the bearing of the King made the foolish parts of the ritual appear monstrously ridiculous, and deprived many of the better parts of their proper effect.

Persons who were at a distance perhaps did not feel this; but I was near enough to see every turn of his finger, and every glance of his eye.