* It was a bitter pecuniary disappointment also. Cruikshank believed that he would have excelled as an actor, but his power amounted to nothing more than the realization of a burlesque brigand. He was violent, fierce in ridiculous excess, and extravagant in all his movements. He had always a yearning for the stage, and thought, as we have seen, of adopting it as a profession in his youth. He played with the Charles Dickens troupe in 1848 (Oliver Cob in “Every Man in his Humour,” Doctor Camphor in “Love and Physic,” and Pistol in “The Merry Wives of Windsor”), but he could not compare with such accomplished amateurs as Dickens and Mark Lemon. He never lost faith, however, in his power; and even late in life when he contemplated--to compensate for his pecuniary disappointment with his Triumph of Bacchus--a benefit at Drury Lane Theatre, he proposed to play Macbeth himself, saying to a friend, “I will show them how the dagger-scene _should_ be done.’” On the 28th of April, 1863, he carried his painting, by command, to Windsor Castle, for the inspection of the Queen; and he never tired of talking gratefully and excitedly about the interview, acting with great solemnity the sweeping bow he made to Her Majesty. But the Queen’s kindness failed to draw her subjects in the crowds the artist had expected. Then his trusty friends organised a little _soirée_ in the exhibition room on the 28th of August, and invited him to deliver a lecture on his picture, which he did in his own original manner, giving a reason for every group, almost every figure, upon his crowded canvas. * Still the laggard public disappointed the expectant veteran, who had cherished visions of a peaceful close for his life, won by this extraordinary labour. Kind Thackeray came, with his grave face, and looked through the little gallery, and went off to write one of his charming essays, which appeared in the Times (May 15,1863). He said:-- * See Appendix I.