[1803-1806.]
From the commencement of 1803, those difficulties of the Abate
Mezzofanti’s position, which merely arose from the straitness of his
income, began gradually to diminish. On the 29th of January in that year
he was appointed assistant librarian of the _Istituto_ of Bologna; one of
those munificent literary institutions of which Italy is so justly proud,
founded in the end of the seventeenth century by the celebrated General
Count Marsigli, and enriched by the munificence of many successive
scholars and citizens of Bologna; especially of the great Bolognese Pope,
Benedict XIV. Its collections and museums are among the finest in Italy;
and the library contains above a hundred and fifty thousand volumes.
But whatever of pecuniary advantage he derived from this appointment, was
perhaps more than counterbalanced by the constant demand upon his time
from the charge of so extensive a library: especially as he confesses
that, up to that period, he had seldom bestowed a thought on the study
of bibliography. To add to the ordinary engagements of librarian, too,
it was determined, sometime after Mezzofanti’s appointment, to prepare
a Catalogue Raisonné, in which the Oriental and Greek department
naturally fell to his share. For the Oriental department of the library
there seems, up to this time, to have been no catalogue, or at least an
exceedingly imperfect and inaccurate one; and as a definite time was
fixed for the completion of the task, it became for Mezzofanti a source
of serious and protracted embarrassment, to which he alludes more than
once in his correspondence.
A more congenial occupation, however, was offered to him soon afterwards.
In the end of the same year, he was restored to his former position in
the university. On the 4th of November in that year, he was appointed
Professor of Oriental Languages;—a place which he was enabled to hold in
conjunction with his office in the Library of the Institute.
A few months after his installation, he read at the university, June
23rd, 1804, on the occasion of conferring degrees, the first public
dissertation of which I have been able to discover any record. The
subject was “The Egyptian Obelisks.” The dissertation itself has been
lost; but Count Simone Stratico, of Pavia, to whom we owe the notice of
its delivery, speaks of it as “most judicious and learned,” and replete
with antiquarian erudition.[317]
The Oriental Professorship in the neighbouring University of Parma, was
at this time held by the celebrated John Bernard de Rossi. Mezzofanti had
long desired to form the acquaintance of this distinguished Orientalist;
and more than once projected a visit to Parma, for the purpose of placing
himself in communication with him on the subject of his favourite
study. His duties as assistant Librarian at length afforded the desired
opportunity. Having occasion to order some of De Rossi’s works from
Parma, he addressed to De Rossi himself a letter which soon led to a warm
and intimate friendship, and was the commencement of an interesting,
although not very frequent, correspondence, which continued, at irregular
intervals, up to the time of De Rossi’s death. Some of Mezzofanti’s
letters to De Rossi, which are preserved in the Library of Parma, have
been kindly placed at my disposal. They are chiefly interesting as
throwing some light on the progress of his studies.
The first is dated September 15th, 1804—
_To the Abate John Bernard de Rossi, Professor of Oriental
Languages._
_Bologna, September 15, 1804._
Most illustrious Signor Abate.—I have long admired and
profited by your rare acquirements, which your learned works
have made known all over Europe; and I have, for some time,
been projecting a visit to Parma, for the double purpose of
tendering to you a personal assurance of my esteem, and of
examining your far-famed library. Finding my hope disappointed
for the present, I take advantage of a favourable opportunity
to offer you, at least in writing, some expression of the
profound respect which I feel for one so distinguished in the
same studies which I myself pursue with great ardour, although
with very inferior success. I am desirous also to procure those
of your works marked nos. 22, 24, 25, and 26, in the catalogue
kindly forwarded by you through Professor Ranzani. Pray give to
the bearer of this letter any of the above numbers which may be
in readiness: he will immediately settle for them.
May I venture to hope that, for the future, you will allow
me, when any difficulty occurs to me in my Oriental reading,
to have recourse to your profound knowledge of Oriental
literature, and also that you will accept the sincere assurance
of the esteem with which I declare myself
Your most humble and devoted servant
D. Joseph Mezzofanti,
Professor of Oriental Languages.
De Rossi replied by an exceedingly courteous letter, accompanied
by a present of several books connected with Oriental literature,
and manifesting so friendly an interest in the studies of his young
correspondent, that Mezzofanti never afterwards hesitated to consult him
when occasion arose. Their letters, in accordance with the ceremonious
etiquette which characterizes all the correspondence of that period, are
somewhat stiff and formal; but their intercourse was marked throughout by
an active and almost tender interest upon the one side, and a respectful
but yet affectionate admiration upon the other.
Meanwhile, however, Mezzofanti’s own increasing reputation led to his
being frequently consulted upon difficulties of the same kind. On one
of these—a book in some unknown character which had been sent for his
examination by Monsignor Bevilacqua, a learned prelate at Ferrara—he,
in his turn, consults De Rossi. His letter is chiefly curious as showing
(what will appear strange to our modern philologers) that up to this
date Mezzofanti was entirely unacquainted with Sanscrit. The importance
of that language and the wide range of its relations, which Frederic
Schlegel was almost the first to estimate aright, were not at this time
fully appreciated.
_To Professor Ab. John Bernard De Rossi._
_Bologna, February 4, 1805._
The works which I lately received from you have only served
to confirm the estimate of your powers which I had formed
from those with which I was previously acquainted; while the
obliging letter and valuable present which accompanied them,
equally convinced me of the kindness of your heart. May I
hope that this kindness, as well as your profound erudition,
may establish for me a title to claim the permission which I
solicited in my last letter? I venture, therefore, to enclose
to you a printed page in unknown characters, which the owner
of the original, Mgr. Alessandro Bevilacqua of Ferrara, tells
me has been already examined by several savants, but to no
purpose. The book comes originally from Congo;[318] having
been brought thence to Ferrara by a Capuchin of the same
respectable family. Being full of the idea of Sanscrit, to
which I earnestly long to apply myself as soon as I shall find
means for the study, I was at first inclined to suspect that
this might be the Sanscrit character; but this is a mere fancy
of mine, or at best a guess. I look, therefore, to your more
extensive knowledge for a satisfactory solution of the doubt;
and meanwhile pray you to accept the assurance of my sincere
gratitude and esteem.
This correspondence with De Rossi, also, shows very remarkably that,
however, at a later period of his career, Mezzofanti’s wonderful faculty
of language may have been sharpened by practice into what appears almost
an instinct, his method of study at this time was exact, laborious, and
perhaps even plodding. He appears, from the very first, to have pursued
as a means of study that system of written composition which was the
amusement of his later years; and he occasionally availed himself of
De Rossi’s superior knowledge and experience so far as to submit these
compositions for his judgment and correction.
It is to one of these he alludes in the following letter:—
_Bologna, April 15, 1805._
I send you a translation in twelve languages of a short Latin
sentence, in the hope that you will kindly correct any mistakes
into which I may have fallen. I have been obliged to write it
almost impromptu (_su due piedi_). I mention this, however,
not to excuse my own blunders, but to throw the blame of
them on those who have forced me to the task. Not having a
single individual within reach with whom to take counsel, I
have been obliged to impose this trouble upon one whose kind
courtesy will make it seem light to him. Accept my thanks in
anticipation of your compliance.
P. S. I should feel obliged if you could let me have your
observations by return of post. Pray attribute this, perhaps
excessive, liberty to the peculiar circumstances in which I am
placed.
I have in vain endeavoured to ascertain what were the twelve languages
of this curious essay. As no trace of the copy is now to be found among
De Rossi’s papers, it seems probable that De Rossi, in complying with
the request contained in the letter, returned the paper to the writer
with his own corrections. But whatever these “twelve languages” may have
been, it is certain that, even at the date of this letter, Mezzofanti’s
attainments were by no means confined to that limit. My attention
has been called to a notice of him contained in a curious, though
little-known work, published at Milan in 1806,[319] which describes his
range of languages as far more extensive.
The work to which I refer is the narrative of an occurrence, which,
although not uncommon even down to a later date, it is difficult
now-a-days,—since Islam has ceased to
——————————wield, as of old, her thirsty lance,
And shake her crimson plumage to the skies,—
to realize as an actual incident of the nineteenth century;[320]—the
adventures of an amateur antiquarian, who was made captive by Corsairs
and carried into Barbary. The hero of this adventure was a Milanese
ecclesiastic, Father Felix Caronni. He embarked at Palermo for Naples, in
a small merchant vessel laden with oranges, but had scarcely quitted the
shore when a pirate-ship hove in sight. The crew, as commonly happened
in such cases, took to the boat and escaped, leaving Father Caronni and
eighteen other passengers to the mercy of the Corsairs, who speedily
overpowered the defenceless little vessel. Caronni, as a subject of the
Italian Republic and a French citizen,[321] would have been secured
against capture; but his passport was in the hands of the captain who had
escaped; and thus, notwithstanding his protestations, he was seized along
with the rest, and, under circumstances of great cruelty and indignity,
they were all carried into Tunis. Here, however, at the reclamation of
the French, supported by the Austrian Consul, Father Caronni was saved
from the fate which awaited the rest of the captives—of being sold into
slavery,—and at the end of three months, (part of which he devoted to the
exploration of the antiquities of Tunis and the surrounding district,)
he was set at liberty and permitted to return to Italy.
Being at a loss, while preparing the narrative of his captivity for
publication, for a translation of the papers which he received at Tunis
when he was set at liberty, he had recourse to the assistance of the
Abate Mezzofanti, as he explains in the following passage.
“No sooner,” says he, “had I obtained the _Tiscara_[322] [passport,] than
I made an exact copy of it (with the exception of the Bey’s seal,) in
the precise dimensions of the original. It was not so easy, however, to
obtain a translation of this document in Italy, both because it had been
hastily written with a reed—the instrument which the Moors employ for
that purpose—and because there were introduced into it certain ciphers
which are peculiar to the Arabs of Barbary. These difficulties, however,
were happily overcome, thanks to the exceeding courtesy, as well as the
distinguished learning of the Abate Mezzofanti, Professor of Oriental
Languages in the Institute of Bologna, who is commonly reputed to be
master of more than twenty-four languages, the greater number of which he
speaks with fluency and purity. He has favoured me (in four long letters
which contain as much information as might supply a whole course of
lectures) with a literal and critically exact version of it, accompanied
by copious explanations, as also by a free translation in the following
terms:—
“‘THERE IS BUT ONE GOD, AND MAHOMET IS HIS PROPHET.’
“‘We have liberated Father Felix Caronni. He is hereby
permitted to embark from Goletta for the country of the
Christians, at the intervention of the French Consul, through
the medium of his Dragoman, in consideration of the payment of
ninety-nine sequins mahbub, and by the privilege of the mighty
and generous Hamudah[323] Basha Bey, Ben-Dani, whom may God
prosper!
“Second Giomada, in the year 1219.’
“_Giomada_[324] is the name of the sixth month of the Arabs, and the
year indicated is the year of their Hegira.[325] And, as the Oriental
writing runs in the reverse order to ours, (that is, from right to
left,) it is necessary, in order that the words of the translation may
correspond with those of the original, to take the precaution of reading
it backwards, or, what will answer the same purpose, in a mirror. What
will strike the reader, however, as most strange, (as it did myself when
first the Tiscara was translated for me) is its particularizing the
‘payment of ninety-nine gold mahbubs,’ which, at the rate of nine _lire_
to each, would make eight hundred and ninety-one Milanese _lire_: whereas
this is utterly false as far as I am personally concerned, and the French
commissary did not give me the least intimation of any payment whatever.
The Abate Mezzofanti suggests with much probability, that it may be a
part of the _stylus curiæ_ of these greedy barbarians to boast in their
piratical diplomacy that no Christian, and still more no ecclesiastic,
has ever been made captive by them without being, even though a Frank,
supposed to be a lawful prize, and consequently without being made ‘to
bleed’ a little.”[326]
This is the first published notice of Mezzofanti which has come under my
observation; and it is particularly interesting as an early example of
his habit of cultivating not only the principal languages, but the minor
varieties of each. The knowledge that, when he had barely completed his
thirtieth year, he was reputed to be master of _more than twenty-four
languages_, may perhaps prepare us to regard with less incredulity the
marvels which we shall find related of his more advanced career.
In the autumn of the same year the Abate Mezzofanti paid his
long-intended visit to Parma and De Rossi. The Italians, and especially
the literary men of Italy, are proverbially bad travellers. Magliabecchi
never was outside of the gates of Florence in his life, except on two
occasions;—once as far as Fiesole, which may almost be called a suburb
of the city, and once again to a distance of ten miles. Many an Italian
Professor has passed an entire life without any longer excursion than
the daily walk from his lodgings to the lecture-room. Even the great
geographer, D’Anville, who lived to the age of eighty-five, is said never
to have left his native city, Paris;[327] and yet he was able to point
out many errors in the plan of the Troad made upon the spot by the Comte
de Choiseul. It has been frequently alleged of Mezzofanti, also, as
enhancing still more the marvel of his acquirements in languages, that,
until his fortieth year, he had never quitted his native city. That this
statement is not literally true appears from a letter which he wrote to
the Abate de Rossi, on his return to Bologna, after the visit to which I
have alluded.
“Pressed as I am, by my many occupations,” he says, November
11, 1805, “I cannot delay writing at least a few lines, in
grateful acknowledgment of the kindnesses which I received from
you during my happy sojourn in your city.
“I had been prepared for this, as well by the reports of others
regarding your amiable disposition, as by the courtesy which
I had myself experienced; but all my anticipations had fallen
far short of the reality. Feeling that it is impossible for me
to offer you a suitable acknowledgment, I beg that, although
I have neither words to express it, nor means of giving it
effect, you will believe me to be deeply sensible of my
obligation to you. I shall preserve all your valued presents
with most jealous care. The ‘Persian Anthology’[328] has been
greatly relished by all here who apply to the study of that
language.
“I shall often have to claim your indulgence for the trouble
which I shall not fail to give you. After the many proofs I
have had of your kindness, I feel that I should be offending
you, were I to ask you to let me hope to reckon myself
henceforward among your friends.”
The friendly courtesy of the Abate De Rossi rendered Mezzofanti’s stay at
Parma exceedingly agreeable. One of the friends whom he made during this
visit, the learned and venerable Librarian of the Ducal Library of that
city, Cavaliere Angelo Pezzana, still survives, and still speaks with an
affection which borders upon tenderness of the friendship which resulted
from their first meeting, and which was the pride of his later life.
Among the subjects of their conversation, Cavaliere Pezzana particularly
remembers some observations of Mezzofanti on certain affinities between
the Russian and Latin languages, which struck him by their acuteness and
originality.
A commission which M. Pezzana gave him at his departure led to the
following letter:—
_Bologna, November 11, 1805._
In the hope of being able to execute the little commission you
gave me regarding the Aldine edition of Aristotle, I have put
off writing until I should have searched in our Library.—On
doing so, I find that I have been mistaken, as there is no
copy of that edition here. I avail myself, however, of this
opportunity to renew the assurance of my gratitude for the
numberless kindnesses which you shewed me during the time it
was my good fortune to be in your society;—kindnesses which I
never can forget, and for which it is my most anxious desire
to find some opportunity of making you a return. I beg you
to present my respects to Dr. Tommasini, and to offer to
Signor Bodoni and his lady my acknowledgments for their great
courtesy. Should any occasion arise in which my humble services
can be of use, I shall consider myself happy, if you will
always put aside every idea of my occupations, and will honour
me with your valued commands. Meanwhile accept the assurance of
my sincere esteem and attachment.
Mezzofanti’s intimacy with the two gentlemen named in this letter,
Tommasini and Bodoni, was lasting and sincere. Tommasini, although an
eminent physician of Parma and an active member of most of the scientific
societies of his day, is little known outside of Italy: but Bodoni, the
celebrated printer and publisher of Parma, whose magnificent editions of
the classics are still among the treasures of every great library, was
a man of rare merit, and a not unworthy representative of the learned
fathers of his craft, the Stephens, the Manuzi, and Plantins of the
palmy days of typography. He was a native of Saluzzo in the kingdom of
Sardinia. His early taste for wood-engraving induced him to visit Rome
for the purpose of study: and he set out in company with a school-fellow,
whose uncle held some office in the Roman court. Bodoni supported himself
and his companion upon the way by the sale of his little engravings,
which are now prized as curiosities in the art. On their arrival,
however, being coldly received by the friend on whom they had mainly
relied, they resolved to return home; but before leaving Rome, Bodoni
paid a visit to the printing-office of the Propaganda, where he had the
good fortune to attract the notice of the Abate Ruggieri, then director
of that great press. He thus obtained employment in the establishment,
and at the same time was permitted to attend the Oriental Schools of the
Sapienza; and thus having learned Hebrew and Arabic, he was employed
exclusively upon the Oriental works printed by the Propaganda. The
excellence and accuracy of the editions of the _Missale Arabico-Coptum_,
and the _Alphabetum Tibetanum_ of Padre Giorgi which Bodoni printed,
excited universal admiration; and when, on occasion of the tragical death
of his friend and patron Ruggieri, he resolved to leave Rome, he was
earnestly invited to settle in England: but he accepted in preference an
invitation to Parma, where he was appointed Director of the Ducal Press,
and where all the well-known master-pieces of his art were successively
produced. Himself a man of much learning, and of a highly cultivated
mind, he enjoyed the friendship of most of the literati of Italy.
Blest with a taste exact, yet unconfined,
A knowledge both of books and human kind—
his conversation was in the highest degree entertaining and instructive;
and his correspondence, which has been published, is full of interest.
With the Abate De Rossi, who employed his press in all his Oriental
publications,[329] he was for years on terms of the closest intimacy;
and during Mezzofanti’s visit to Parma, he treated De Rossi’s young
disciple with a courtesy which Mezzofanti long and gratefully remembered.
Bodoni’s wife, who, upon his death in 1813, succeeded to his vast
establishment, was, like her husband, highly cultivated, and a most
amiable and excellent woman.
Among the languages which occupied Mezzofanti at this time, Persian
appears to have received the principal share of his attention. One of the
first presents which he received from De Rossi was, as we have seen, a
“Persian Anthology;” and in a letter to De Rossi, written early in 1806
(which Cavaliere Pezzana has published in the Modena Journal, _Memorie
di Religione_,) he expresses much anxiety to obtain a copy of the great
Persian classic, Kemal Eddin.
The same letter, however, contains another request from which it may be
inferred that much of his time was still drawn away from these studies by
his duties as librarian. Speaking of the catalogue then in preparation,
he complains of the miserably defective condition of the library in the
department of Bibliography; and begs of his correspondent to send him the
titles of the _Bibliotheca_ of Hottinger, (perhaps his _Promptuarium, seu
Bibliotheca Orientalis_, Heidelberg, 1658) and that of Wolff, in order
that he may provide himself with these works, as a guide in his task.
On this subject he speaks more explicitly in a letter of the 3rd of
March, in the same year. After alluding to a commission of De Rossi’s
which he had failed in executing, he proceeds:—
The preparation of the Catalogue keeps me in constant
occupation, because these Oriental books are for the most part
without the name of the author or the title of the work. Their
value, that is to say their scientific importance, bears no
proportion to the labour they cost; inasmuch as they are all
Grammatical Treatises, books of Law, and such like. However,
should I meet any work of interest, I shall not fail to
communicate it to you; although, I fancy, it will be difficult
to meet with anything that you do not know already.
I received from Vienna immediately on its publication, the
Grammar of the learned Dombay,[330] who is well known for other
works, particularly upon the language and history of Morocco.
It happens that I have got two copies of it; and I have set one
of them apart for you, for which you may perhaps give me in
exchange one of your own duplicates. It contains the Grammar
arranged after the manner of the Latin Grammarians; the rules
of Persian according to Meninski,[331] with this advantage,
that here they are given in consecutive order, whereas in
Meninski they are found mixed up with those of the Arabic and
Turkish. Your friend, M. Silvestre de Sacy, reviewed it in
the _Magazin Encyclopedique_, and took exception to Dombay’s
reducing the Persian to the system of the Latin Grammar. I hope
shortly to receive the other from Leipsic, as also the tales of
Nizami, in Persian and Latin, printed by Wolff, and published
by L. Hill, who promised for the same year, 1802, an edition of
the _Divan_ of Hafiz.[332]
I am only waiting for a safe opportunity to forward your books.
We cannot fail of one in the coming spring. As to the “Oriental
Anthology,” I have given it in charge to the courier as far as
Milan, but have not yet heard intelligence of it.
Book-buying is undoubtedly very troublesome, and the least
disagreeable part of it is the money the books cost, although
in Oriental works I always find this excessive. I beg you not
to spare me whenever any occasion offers in which my services
may be useful.
The Abate de Rossi had requested to be furnished with a note of the
principal Oriental MSS. of the Bologna collection; but Mezzofanti’s
labour in preparing the general Catalogue was so great, and the time
fixed for its completion was so entirely inadequate, that, for a
considerable time, he was unable to comply with his friend’s request.
It is to this he alludes in the following letter, dated May 11, 1806.
After apologizing for the delay in forwarding the book referred to in the
letter of March 3rd, he proceeds:—
My labour at the Catalogue still continues, nor can I hope at
the period appointed for its close, to have done more than
merely sketch it out;—that is, we shall have nothing entered
but the bare titles of the works. This, however, in itself,
is a task so difficult in our Oriental MSS., that, up to the
present time, it has never been satisfactorily done. Besides
the Oriental books, I have also to deal with the Greek; and all
must be in readiness within the coming month. The truth is that
I should require a year at least to give a proper shape to my
labour, and in the beginning my impression was that it would
require two. And in my present difficulty, what gives me most
pain is that I am not able to send you, as early as I could
wish, the note which you have often expressed a wish to obtain;
but I shall send it the very first moment in my power.
I have received your new work,[333] for which I beg you to
accept my best thanks. I did not write at the moment, knowing
you do not like very frequent letters; I have besides too much
respect for time devoted like yours to the honour of Italy, on
which your works in Oriental literature have shed a lustre. I
long nevertheless for a fitting opportunity to prove to you the
sincerity of my gratitude.
Under this constant and protracted labour Mezzofanti’s health began
to give way. His chest was seriously threatened during the summer of
1806, and had it not been that he fortunately obtained an extension of
the time allotted for the completion of his task at the Catalogue, it
is not unlikely that his constitution, naturally weak, might have been
permanently enfeebled. Family cares, too, formed no inconsiderable part
of his burden. The health of his mother, which had for a long time been
very uncertain, was completely broken down. She was now entirely blind.
For many weeks of this season he was in daily apprehension of her death;
and, in the pressure of his engagements, his hours of attendance on her
sick bed were subtracted from the time hitherto devoted to rest, already
sufficiently curtailed.
In the midst of these cares and occupations, Mezzofanti was surprised
by a flattering invitation to transfer his residence to Paris, with a
promise of patronage and distinction from the Emperor Napoleon, who was
at this time eagerly engaged in plans for the development of the literary
and artistic glories of his capital. More than one of Mezzofanti’s
countrymen were already in the enjoyment of high honours at Paris. First
among them may be named Volta, for many years Professor of Natural
Philosophy in the University of Pavia. More pliant than his great
fellow-discoverer, Galvani, or perhaps more favourably circumstanced as
not being, like him, a member of a Papal University, he had escaped the
proscription which brought Galvani to his grave—one of those victims of
loyalty whom Petrarch declares
————assai più belli
Con la lor povertà, che Mida o Crasso
Con l’oro, ond’ a virtù furon ribelli;—
Volta was called from Pavia to Paris, where he was rewarded with
distinctions, emoluments, titles, and, more flattering than all, with the
personal notice and patronage of the great conqueror himself, who was
often present at his experiments, and displayed a warm interest in the
results to which they led.[334]
Such were at this period the tempting rewards of scientific or literary
eminence in France. Moreover, Count Marescalchi, in whose family
Mezzofanti had acted as tutor and librarian during the years of his
deprivation, was now Resident Minister of the Kingdom of Italy at Paris.
The Count’s intercourse with Mezzofanti was but little interrupted by
their separation; and, even during his residence in Paris, the latter
continued to correspond with him; chiefly on matters connected with the
education of his children, or with the completion or extension of his
noble library. The extent of their intimacy indeed may be inferred from
one of Mezzofanti’s letters to the Count, dated September 16, 1806,
in which we find him freely employing the services of the minister in
procuring books at Paris, not only for himself but for his literary
friends in Bologna.[335]
It was through this Count Marescalchi that the invitation to Paris was
conveyed to Mezzofanti, and it cannot be doubted that it was accompanied
by a warm recommendation from the Count himself. No trace of this formal
correspondence is now discoverable; but probably far more interesting,
as it is certainly far more characteristic, than the official letter or
reply, is the following playful letter to one of Count Marescalchi’s
sons, Carlino (Charlie), Mezzofanti’s former pupil—now the representative
of the house—who had written a special letter, to add the expression of
his own wishes to those of his father, that his old instructor should
join them once again at Paris.
_Bologna, September 16, 1806._
But three letters, dearest Charlie, in an entire year—two
from Lyons, and one from Paris—to cheer my regrets in being
separated from you! If I were to take this as the measure of
your love for me, I should indeed have reason to be sad. But I
have abundant other proofs of your feelings in my regard; and
at all events, I am not one who can afford to be too rigid in
insisting upon the frequency of correspondence, unless I wish
to furnish grave grounds of complaint against myself.
Few, however, as your letters have been, I am deeply grateful
for their warm and affectionate sentiments, which carry with
them such an evidence of sincerity as to leave me, even when
you do not write, no ground for doubting what your feelings
still are towards me. I am not sure whether in your regard I
shall be equally fortunate; for I am fully sensible that I have
not the power of infusing into what I write all the warmth and
sincerity that I really feel. However, you are not dependent
on my words, in order to be satisfied of the truth of my
affection; and, knowing it as you do, even a lesser token of it
than this will suffice to convince you.
I am still here at Bologna following the same old round of
occupations. Nor am I dissatisfied with my lot, for I am quite
sensible of my inability to take a loftier flight. I feel that
the shade suits me best. Were I to go to Paris, I should be
obliged to set myself up upon some candlestick, where I should
only give out a faint and flickering gleam, which would soon
die utterly away. Nevertheless I am not the less grateful for
your advice; though I perceive that you are dissatisfied with
me because I am such a little fellow.
A thousand, thousand greetings to your dear little sisters.
Renew my remembrance to your father, and when you have an
occasional moment of leisure from your tasks, pray bestow it
upon
Your sincere friend,
D. JOSEPH MEZZOFANTI.
Besides the unaffected modesty and the distrust of his own fitness for
a prominent position (even with such advantages as those offered to him
at Paris,) which are expressed in this letter, the Abate Mezzofanti
was also moved to decline the invitation, both by affection for his
native city and love of its university life (to which we shall find him
looking back with fondness even after his elevation to the cardinalate,)
and by unwillingness to part from his family, to whom he was tenderly
attached. To the latter he had always felt himself bound by duty as well
as by affection. The expense of the education of his sister’s children,
who at this time, (as appears from a little Memoir in the archives of
the University drawn up in 1815,) were seven in number, amounted to a
considerable sum. They, as well as their parents, still continued to
reside in his house; and the same Memoir alludes to another near relative
who was at least partially dependent upon him for support.
To these children, indeed, he was as a father. Cavaliere Minarelli, in
the interesting note already cited, describes him as “most affectionately
devoted to them, and uniting in his manners the loving familiarity of
a friend with the graver authority of an instructor.” In his brief
intervals of leisure from business or study, he often joined them in
their little amusements. Without the slightest trace of austerity,
he generally managed to give their amusements, as far as possible, a
religious character. He usually made the festivals memorable to them by
some extra indulgence or entertainment. He encouraged and directed their
childish tastes in the embellishment of their little oratories, or in
those well-known Christmas devices of Catholic children, the preparation
of the “Crib of the Infant Jesus,” or the decoration of the “Christmas
Tree.” He hoarded his little resources in order to procure for them
improving and instructive books. He composed simple odes and sonnets for
the several festivals, which it was his greatest enjoyment to hear them
recite. The simplicity of his disposition, and a natural fondness for
children which was one of the characteristics even of his later life,
made all this easy to him. He was always ready, if not to take a part, at
least to manifest an interest, in the pleasures of his young friends. In
the carnival especially, when amusement seems, for a time, to form the
serious business of every Italian household, he was never wanting; and,
on one memorable occasion, he actually composed a little comedy, to be
acted by his nephews and nieces for the humble family circle.
During the whole winter of 1806-7 his time was still occupied in the
uncongenial labour of compiling the Catalogue.
On the 25th of September, he writes to the Abate De Rossi, apologizing
for delay in replying to a letter received from him.
“A complication of unfortunate accidents has, up to this
moment, prevented me from answering your kind letter of last
July. My poor mother has frequently, during the summer, been
in extreme danger of death. My own chest, too, has more than
once been threatened, and is still far from strong. All this,
however, does not save me from a feeling of remorse at having
been so tardy towards one whose scientific reputation, as well
as his courteous manners, entitle him to so much consideration.
My labour, as you say, is not yet over. The task, as I
had indeed anticipated from the beginning, has proved an
exceedingly difficult one. As an evidence of the difficulty I
need only mention that the celebrated Giuseppe Assemani, in
the similar work which he undertook,[336] has made numerous
mistakes, having in one instance given no less than six
different titles to seven copies of the same work. This great
orientalist, with all his learning, could not command the time
necessary for so troublesome a task as that of ascertaining the
titles and authors of books which are quite unknown and often
imperfect. For my part, I resolved from the beginning that I
would not, willingly at least, add to the other deficiencies of
which I am conscious, that of haste and insufficient time. _Nam
quo minus ingenio possum, subsidio mihi diligentiam comparavi_;
and the condescension of his Serene Highness has in the end
relieved me, by extending until April the time allowed for the
completion of the task. The grammarians, rhetoricians, poets,
prosodians, logicians, and theologians, have taken up all my
time hitherto; in the course of the next two months, I hope to
complete the enumeration of the other authors; and then I shall
at last fulfil my promise of sending you, when occasion serves,
whatever I think may interest you.”
De Rossi, in his letter, to which this is a reply, had put some
questions regarding the contents of the octavo edition of D’Herbelot’s
_Bibliothèque Orientale_, the preface of which had contained a promise
of many important improvements. Mezzofanti, referring to these promised
additions, goes on to say, “In the articles which I have compared, I
have only found a few verbal corrections. But in the preface, we are
promised additional articles, drawn from the narratives of travellers
subsequent to D’Herbelot. From this promise you will be able to infer
what information you may expect to derive from the edition, and whether
it is likely to be useful for your purpose. I have not yet received
the supplement, which was to contain certain articles which have been
postponed for reasons explained in the preface. Perhaps the reason of its
not having been printed, may be, that the articles in question, being of
use to orientalists alone, may be found by them in the former editions.
“As it would be no small distinction for the collection of Oriental MSS.
belonging to this Royal Library of ours, if among them there should be
found any deserving of a place amongst the MSS. cited in your dictionary,
I shall endeavour, in the hope that it may prove so, to complete my task
as speedily as possible, so as to send you at least an index, out of
which you may yourself choose the name of any author whom you shall judge
deserving of notice.
“I believe Dombay’s work has been published. I have the title,
‘_Geschichte der Mauritan. Könige; aus dem Arabischen übersetzt_’;[337]
but without date or place. I shall write to Vienna as soon as I can, to
order it, if it should be published. I have made a good many interesting
acquisitions lately; as for instance, _Albucasis ‘De Chirurgia.’_[338]
Oxonii, 1778. ‘_Maured Allatafet Jemaleddini filii Togri Bardii; seu
Rerum Aegyptiacarum Annales ab Anno C. 971 ad 1453_’;[339] several
‘_Anthologias_’ and ‘_Chrestomathias_;’ one of which, that of Rink and
Vater, has at the end a _Bibliotheca Arabica_ continued up to 1802; and
some other books.”
* * * * *
At this date, Mezzofanti’s correspondence with De Rossi is interrupted;
and, although there appears to have been a pretty regular interchange of
correspondence between them for some years longer,[340] no further letter
has been found among those of De Rossi’s papers which are deposited in
the library of Parma, except one written in the year 1812.
Scanty as are the details supplied by those which are preserved, they,
at least, afford some insight into the process by which the writer’s
extraordinary faculty was developed and perfected. However acute and
almost instinctive this faculty may have been, it is plain from these
letters, that it was at this time most systematically and laboriously
cultivated. However much Mezzofanti may have owed to nature, it is
certain, that for all the practical results of his great natural gifts
he was indebted to his own patient and almost plodding industry; and
it may cheer the humble student in the long and painful course through
which alone he can aspire to success, to find that even this prodigy of
language was forced to tread the same laborious path;—to see the anxious
care with which he collected and consulted grammars, dictionaries,
manuals, reading books, and other similar commonplace appliances of the
study; and to learn, that, with all his unquestioned and unquestionable
genius, he did not consider himself above the drudgery at which even less
gifted students are but too apt to murmur or repine.
It may be added that the toilsome practice of writing out translations
from one language into another which these letters disclose, was
continued by Mezzofanti through his entire career of study, although in
his latter years he pursued it more as an amusement than as a serious
task.
It is hard, in ordinary cases, to infer from such performances the exact
degree of proficiency in the language which they should be presumed
to indicate. Some translations are only the fruit of long and careful
study.[341] On the contrary, there are instances on record in which
excellent translations have been produced by persons possessing a very
slight knowledge of the original. Thus Monte, the author of the best
Italian translation of Homer, was utterly unacquainted with Greek;[342]
Halley, without knowing a word of Arabic, was able to guess his way,
(partly by mathematical reasoning, partly by the aid of a Latin version,
which, however, only contained about one-tenth of the entire work,)
through an Arabic translation of Apollonius _De Sectione Rationis_;[343]
and M. Arnaud, the first French translator of Lalla Rookh, did not know a
word of the English language.[344]
But on all these points Mezzofanti’s fame is beyond suspicion. His
translations, at least in his later life, were at once produced with
the utmost freedom and rapidity, and are universally acknowledged to
have been models of verbal correctness; and in most instances where the
same passage is translated into many languages, the versions display a
remarkable mastery over the peculiar forms and idioms of each.
This wonderful success must be ascribed, no doubt, to his early and
systematic exercise in translation, of which the specimen submitted to De
Rossi is but one example.