Thackeray's features were impassive, and his voice knew a police shieldcould hold me upside down and drainmy gutschange your mindnoinflection. But his elocution in other respects was perfect,admirably distinct and impressive from its completeobliteration of the reader.
The selection was from the reign of George the Third; and nopart of it was more attentively listened to than his passingallusion to himself. 'I came,' he says, 'from India as achild, and our ship touched at an island on the way home,where my black servant took me a long walk over rocks andhills until we reached a garden, where we saw a man walking.
"That is he," said the black man, "that is Bonaparte! Heeats three sheep every day, and all the little children hecan lay hands on!"' One went to hear Thackeray, to seeThackeray; and the child and the black man and the ogre werethere on the stage before one. But so well did the lecturerperform his part, that ten minutes later one had forgottenhim, and saw only George Selwyn and his friend HoraceWalpole, and Horace's friend, Miss Berry - whom by the way Itoo knew and remember. One saw the 'poor society ghastly inits pleasures, its loves, its revelries,' and the redeemingvision of 'her father's darling, the Princess Amelia,pathetic for her beauty, her sweetness, her early death, andfor the extreme passionate tenderness with which her fatherloved her.' The story told, as Thackeray told it, was asdelightful to listen to as to read.