_ (the great poet), he
shook his head as doubtfully as {p.238} before--until the landlady
solved our difficulties, by suggesting that perhaps the traveller
might mean "the _Herr Geheimer-Rath_ (Privy Counsellor) _Von Goethe_."
Scott seemed amused with this, and said, "I hope you will come one of
these days and see me at Abbotsford; and when you reach Selkirk or
Melrose, be sure you ask even the landlady for nobody but _the
Sheriff_." He appeared particularly interested when I described Goethe
as I first saw him, alighting from a carriage, crammed with wild
plants and herbs which he had picked up in the course of his morning's
botanizing among the hills above Jena. "I am glad," said he, "that my
old master has pursuits somewhat akin to my own. I am no botanist,
properly speaking; and though a dweller on the banks of the Tweed,
shall never be knowing about Flora's beauties;[106] but how I should
like to have a talk with him about trees!" I mentioned how much any
one must be struck with the majestic beauty of Goethe's countenance
(the noblest certainly by far that I have ever yet seen): "Well," said
he, "the grandest demigod I ever saw was Dr. Carlyle, minister of
Musselburgh, commonly called _Jupiter Carlyle_, from having sat more
than once for the king of gods and men to Gavin Hamilton--and a
shrewd, clever old carle was he, no doubt, but no more a poet than his
precentor. As for poets, I have seen, I believe, all the best of our
own time and country--and, though Burns had the most glorious eyes
imaginable, I never thought any of them would come up to an artist's
notion of the character, except Byron." A reverend gentleman present
(I think, Principal Nicoll of St. Andrews) expressed his regret that
he had never seen Lord Byron. "And the prints," resumed Scott, "give
one no impression of him--the lustre is there, Doctor, but it is not
lighted up. Byron's countenance is _a thing to dream of_. A certain
fair lady, whose name has been too often {p.239} mentioned in
connection with his, told a friend of mine, that when she first saw
Byron, it was in a crowded room, and she did not know who it was, but
her eyes were instantly nailed, and she said to herself, _that pale
face is my fate_. And, poor soul, if a godlike face and godlike powers
could have made any excuse for devilry, to be sure she had one." In
the course of this talk, an old friend and schoolfellow of
Scott's[107] asked him across the table if he had any faith in th