the parts most admired were
substitutions of my own, on a principle of compensation. Yet the whole
work went for waste-paper. I was abused--nay, my own remarks in the
Preface were transferred to a Review, as the Reviewer's sentiments
_against_ me, without even a hint that he had copied them from my own
Preface. Such was the fate of "Wallenstein"! And yet I dare appeal to
any number of men of Genius--say, for instance, Mr. W. Scott, Mr.
Southey, Mr. Wordsworth, Mr. Wilson, Mr. Sotheby, Sir G. Beaumont, etc.,
whether the "Wallenstein" with all its defects (and it has grievous
defects), is not worth all Schiller's other plays put together. But I
wonder not. It was _too_ good, and not good enough; and the advice of
the younger Pliny: "Aim at pleasing either _all_, or _the few,"_ is as
prudentially good as it is philosophically accurate. I wrote to Mr.
Longman before the work was published, and foretold its fate, even to a
detailed accuracy, and advised him to put up with the loss from the
purchase of the MSS and of the Translation, as a much less evil than the
publication. I went so far as to declare that its success was, in the
state of public Taste, impossible; that the enthusiastic admirers of
"The Robbers," "Cabal and Love," etc., would lay the blame on me; and
that he himself would suspect that if he had only lit on _another_
Translator then, etc. Everything took place as I had foretold, even his
own feelings--so little do Prophets gain from the fulfilment of their
Prophecies!

On the other hand, though I know that executed as alone I can or dare do
it--that is, to the utmost of my power (for which the intolerable Pain,
nay the far greater Toil and Effort of doing otherwise, is a far safer
Pledge than any solicitude on my part concerning the approbation of the
PUBLIC), the translation of so very difficult a work as the "Faustus,"
will be most inadequately remunerated by the terms you propose; yet they
very probably are the highest it may be worth your while to offer to
_me_. I say this as a philosopher; for, though I have now been much
talked of, and written of, for evil and not for good, but for suspected
capability, yet none of my works have ever sold. The "Wallenstein" went
to the waste. The "Remorse," though acted twenty times, rests quietly on
the shelves in the second edition, with copies enough for seven years'
consumption, or seven times seven. I lost L200 by the non-payment, from
forgetfulness, and under vario