The subject chosen was "The Tempest;" and, as Hayley truly observes, it created many a tempest in the fluctuating spirits of Romney.

The vehement desire of that perfection which genius conceives, and cannot always execute, held a perpetual contest with that dejection of spirits which degrades the unhappy sufferer, and casts him, grovelling among the mean of his class.
In a national work, a man of genius pledges his honour to the world for its performance; but to redeem that pledge, there is a darkness in the uncertain issue, and he is risking his honour for ever.

By that work he will always be judged, for public failures are never forgotten, and it is not then a party, but the public itself, who become his adversaries.

With ROMNEY it was "a fever of the mad;" and his friends could scarcely inspire him with sufficient courage to proceed with his arduous picture, which exercised his imagination and his pencil for several years.

I have heard that he built a painting-room purposely for this picture; and never did an anchorite pour fourth a more fervent orison to Heaven, than Romney when this labour was complete.