In going down to dinner, therefore, at Mr. Browne's
(whose dinner they kept waiting exactly an hour) they led the way,
followed humbly by the High Sheriff of the county, who is always the
first dignitary except where the judges lead. Then went the Mayor,
attended by one of his magnificent footmen in the Town livery, which
is so very splendid and imposing that "each one looks like twenty
generals in full military costume," as Mr. Hawthorne says; with
scarlet plush vests, innumerable cordons and tassels of gold,
small-clothes, and white hose, and blue coats embroidered with gold
flowers. No crowned emperor ever felt so blindingly superb, and how
they ever condescend to put down their feet on the floor is a wonder.
Mr. Hawthorne followed next to the Mayor. There being no conversation,
there was ample time to look at the truly gorgeous appointments of the
table, upon which no china appeared, but only massive plate. The
epergne was Phoebus Apollo in his chariot of the sun, with four horses
galloping perpetually along the table without moving. The
dessert-plates were bordered with wreaths of flowers and fruits in
high relief, all of silver. Perhaps Mr. Browne's wits have turned to
silver, as Midas's surroundings into gold. Mr. Hawthorne has gone to
another dinner this evening at the Mayor's. It is a state dinner to my
lords the judges. Baron Alderson nearly expires with preeminence on
these occasions, and perhaps he will cease to breathe to-night. These
are heavy hours to Mr.
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