[1817-1820.]
Southey, in one of his pleasant gossiping letters to Bedford, tells that
when M. de Sagrie was going to publish a French translation of Southey’s
“Roderick,” his publisher, Le Bel, insisted upon having a life of the
poet prefixed. M. de Sagrie objected; and at last, in order to get rid of
the printer’s importunities, said that he knew nothing whatever of the
life of Mr. Southey. “N’importe!” was the printer’s cool reply, “Ecrivez
toujours, brodez! Brodez-la un peu; que ce soit vrai ou non, ce ne fait
rien.”[371]
We have come to a part of Mezzofanti’s quiet and uniform life in which
there are so few incidents to break the monotony of the uneventful
narrative, that, at least in so far as its interest is concerned, his
biographer is almost in the same condition with M. de Sagrie. The true
purpose of this narrative, however—to exhibit the faculty rather than the
man—seems to me to depend less on the accumulation of piquant anecdotes
and striking adventures, than upon a calm and truthful survey of his
intellectual attainments in the successive stages of his career. Instead,
therefore, of having recourse to the device suggested by De Sagrie’s
enterprising publisher, and supplying, by a little ingenious “broderie,”
the deficiency of exciting incident, I shall content myself with weaving
together, in the order of time, the several notices of Mezzofanti, by
travellers and others, which have come within my reach; interspersing
such explanations, incidents, illustrations, and anecdotes, as I have
been able to glean, among the scanty memorials of this period which
have survived. Fortunately, from the year which we have now reached,
there exists a tolerably connected series of such sketches. They are, of
course, from the most various hands—from authors
of all tongues and creeds;—
Some were those who counted beads,
Some of mosque, and some of church,
And some, or I mis-say, of neither;—
but their value, it need hardly be said, is enhanced by this very
variety. Proceeding from so many independent sources, produced for the
most part, too, upon the spot, and in the order of time in which they
appear in the narrative;—these unconnected sketches may be believed to
present, if a less minute and circumstantial, certainly a more vivid as
well as more reliable, portraiture of Mezzofanti, than could be hoped
even from the daily scrutiny of familiar friends, intimately conversant
with his every day life, but always viewing his character from the same
unvarying point, and rather submitting the result of their own matured
observations of what Mezzofanti seemed to them to be, than affording
materials for a calm and dispassionate estimate of what he really was.
Nor must it be forgotten that no single chronicler, even had he the
circumstantiality of a Boswell, could be capable of keeping a record
of Mezzofanti’s life, which could be available as the foundation of a
satisfactory judgment as to the real extent and nature of his linguistic
accomplishment. It is only another Mezzofanti who would be a competent
witness on such a question; and, in default of a single Polyglot critic
of his attainments in all the languages which he is supposed to have
known, we shall best consult the interests of truth and science, by
considering severally, in reference to each of these languages, the
judgment formed regarding his performance therein by those whose native
language it was.
I have already said that the office of librarian brought him into contact
with most of the strangers, especially of the literary class, who visited
Bologna. In Bolognese society, too, he was more courted and sought after
than his modest and retiring disposition would have desired. In the house
of the Cardinal-Archbishop Opizzoni, and of the Cardinal Legates, Lanti,
and Spina, he was always an honoured guest. With several of the noble
families of the city, especially the Marescalchi, the Angelelli, the
Amerini, and the Zambeccari, he lived on terms of the closest intimacy.
The Cavaliere Pezzana mentions that when, on a visit to Bologna in 1817,
he was dining at the first named palace, Mezzofanti came in uninvited,
and almost as one of the family. At all these houses his opportunities of
meeting foreigners of every race and language may easily be believed to
have been frequent, and of the most various character.
The earliest English visitor of the Abate Mezzofanti whom I have been
able to discover is Mr. Harford, author of the recent “Life of Michael
Angelo Buonarroti,”[372] and proprietor of the valuable gallery of
Blaise Castle, which Dr. Waagen describes in his “Treasures of Art in
England.”[373]
Mr. Harford visited Bologna in the autumn of 1817, at which time he first
made Mezzofanti’s acquaintance. He renewed the acquaintance subsequently
at Rome, and on both occasions had a full opportunity of observing and
of testing his extraordinary gift of language. Mr. Harford has kindly
communicated to me his recollections of Mezzofanti at both these periods
of life, which, (although the latter part anticipates the order of time
by nearly thirty years,) may most naturally be inserted together.
“I first made the acquaintance of the Abbé Mezzofanti,” writes
Mr. Harford, “at the table of Cardinal Lanti, brother of the
Duke of Lanti, then Legate of Bologna. This was in the year
1817. The Cardinal was then living at the public palace at
Bologna, but I had previously known him in Rome. He was a man
of highly cultivated mind, and of gentlemanly and agreeable
manners. He made his guests perfectly at their ease, and I
well recollect, after dinner, forming one of a group around
Abbé Mezzofanti, and listening with deep interest to his
animated conversation, which had reference, in consequence
of questions put to him, to various topics, illustrating
his wonderful acquaintance with the principal languages of
the world. Report, at this time, gave him credit for being
master of upwards of forty languages; and I recollect, among
other things, his giving proof of his familiar acquaintance
with the Welsh. I had some particular conversation with him
upon the origin of what is called Saxon, Norman, and Lombard
architecture, and I remember his entire accordance with the
opinion I threw out, that it resolved itself in each case into
a corruption of Roman architecture.
“My next interview with him was after a long lapse of time,
for I did not meet him again till the year 1846, the winter
of which I passed in Rome. The Abbé was then changed into the
Cardinal Mezzofanti. I found him occupying a handsome suite
of apartments in a palazzo in the Piazza Santi Apostoli. He
assured me he well remembered meeting Mrs. H. and myself at
Cardinal Lanti’s, on the occasion above referred to; and
in the course of several visits which I paid him during
the winter and ensuing spring, his conversation was always
animated and agreeable. He conversed with me in English, which
he spoke with the utmost fluency and correctness, and only
with a slight foreign accent. His familiar knowledge of our
provincial dialects quite surprised me. ‘Do you know much of
the Yorkshire dialect?’ he said to me: and then, with much
humour, gave me various specimens of its peculiarities; ‘and
your _Zummersetshire_ dialect,’ he went on to say, laughing as
he spoke, and imitating it.
“On another occasion he spoke to me with high admiration of the
style of Addison, preferring it to that of any English author
with whom he was acquainted. He commended its ease, elegance,
and grace; and then contrasted it with the grandiloquence of
Johnson, whose powerful mind and copious fancy he also greatly
admired, though he deemed him much inferior in real wit and
taste to Addison. In all this I fully agreed with him; and then
inquired whether he had ever read Boswell’s Life of Johnson,
and, finding he had not, I told him he must allow me to send
it to him, as I felt assured, from the interest he displayed
in our English literature, it would much amuse and delight him.
This promise I subsequently fulfilled.[374]
“Speaking to me about an English lady with whom I was well
acquainted, he eagerly inquired, ‘_Is she a blue-stocking?_’
“He one day talked to me about the Chinese language and its
difficulties, and told me that some time back a gentleman
who had resided in China visited him. ‘I concluded,’ he
added, ‘that I might address him in Chinese, and did so;—but,
after exchanging a few sentences with me, he begged that we
might pursue our conversation in French. We talked, however,
long enough for me to discover that he spoke in _the Canton
dialect_.’
“That one who had never set his foot out of Italy should be
thus able in an instant to detect the little peculiarities of
dialect in a man who had lived in China, did, I acknowledge,
strike me with astonishment.
“This sort of critical sagacity in languages enabled the
Cardinal to render important services to the Propaganda College
at Rome, in which he held a high office. I was not only struck
with the fluency, but with the rapidity with which he spoke
the English language, and, I might also add, the idiomatic
correctness of his expressions.
“So much of celebrity attached itself to his name that
foreigners of distinction gladly sought occasions of making
his acquaintance. On being ushered into his presence on one of
my visits I found him surrounded by a large party of admirers,
including several ladies, who all appeared highly delighted
with his animated conversation.”
We shall have other opportunities of adverting to his curiously minute
acquaintance, not only with English literature, but even with the
provincial dialects of English, by which Mr. Harford was so much struck.
But, as some difference of opinion has been expressed with regard to his
acquaintance with Welsh, I think it right to note the circumstance that
Mr. Harford distinctly remembers him, as early as 1817, to have given
“proofs of familiar acquaintance” with that language.[375]
Somewhat later in the same year, November, 1817, Mr. Stewart Rose visited
Mezzofanti. The ordeal to which his linguistic powers were submitted in
Mr. Rose’s presence was more severe and more varied than that witnessed
by Mr. Harford; the former having heard him tried in German, Greek, and
Turkish, as well as in English. But as we shall have abundant independent
testimony for each of these, Mr. Rose’s testimony is specially important,
as recording the exceeding accuracy of Mezzofanti’s English, which he
tested by “long and repeated conversations.”
“As this country,” he writes, “has been fertile in every variety of
genius, from that which handles the pencil to that which sweeps the
skies with the telescope; so even in this, her least favourite beat,
she has produced men who, in early life, have embraced such a circle of
languages, as one should hardly imagine their ages would have enabled
them to obtain. Thus the wonders which are related of one of these, Pico
di Mirandola, I always considered fabulous, till I was myself the witness
of acquisitions which can scarcely be considered less extraordinary.
“The living lion to whom I allude is Signor Mezzofanti of Bologna, who
when I saw him, though he was only thirty-six years old, read twenty
and wrote eighteen languages. This is the least marvellous part of the
story. He spoke all these fluently, and those of which I could judge
with the most extraordinary precision. I had the pleasure of dining with
him formerly in the house of a Bolognese lady, at whose table a German
officer declared he could not have distinguished him from a German. He
passed the whole of the next day with G—— and myself, and G— told me he
should have taken him for an Englishman, who had been some time out of
England. A Smyrniote servant who was with me, bore equal testimony to
his skill in other languages, and declared he might pass for a Greek or
a Turk in the dominions of the Grand Seignior. But what most surprised
me was his accuracy; for, during long and repeated conversations in
English, he never once misapplied the _sign_ of a tense, that fearful
stumblingblock to Scotch and Irish, in whose writings there is always to
be found some abuse of these undefinable niceties. The marvel was, if
possible, rendered more marvellous by this gentleman’s accomplishments
and information, things rare in linguists, who generally mistake
the means for the end. It ought also to be stated that his various
acquisitions had all been made in Bologna, from which, when I saw him, he
had never wandered above thirty miles.”[376]
Mr. Rose was mistaken in supposing that Mezzofanti at this time was but
thirty-six years old. He was in reality forty-three; but the testimony
which he bears to his “general accomplishments and information” will be
found to be confirmed by very many succeeding travellers.
It was earlier in the same year, probably in June, on his return from
Rome to Venice,[377] that Lord Byron first saw Mezzofanti. The extract
given by Moore from his Journal, in which he describes the impressions
made upon him by their intercourse has no date attached; but as he
also alludes to Mezzofanti as among “the great names of Italy” in the
Dedication of the Fourth Canto of Childe Harold, which is dated January,
2nd, 1818, it would seem likely that he had met him at least before
that date.[378] Of the particulars of their intercourse no record is
preserved; but Mezzofanti always spoke with profound interest of his
noble visitor. He was perfectly familiar with his poetry. The late Dr.
Cox of Southampton assured me that his criticism of the several poems,
and especially of Childe Harold, would do credit to our best reviews. And
he often expressed the deepest regret for the early and unhappy fate, by
which this gifted man was called away while he still lay in the shadow
of that cold and gloomy scepticism which so often marred his better
impulses, and—
Flung o’er all that’s warm and bright,
The winter of an icy creed.
“Alas!” he one day said to M. Manavit, “that desolating scepticism which
had long oppressed his soul, was not natural to such a mind. Sooner or
later he would have awakened from it. And then it only remained for
him to open the most glorious page in his Childe Harold’s adventurous
Pilgrimage—that in which, reviewing all his doubts, his struggles, and
his sorrows, and laying bare the deep wounds of his haughty soul, he
should have sought rest from them all in the peaceful bosom of the faith
of his fathers.”[379]
Such a feeling as this on the part of Mezzofanti gives a melancholy
interest to the well-known passage, half laughing, half admiring, in
which Byron records his recollections of the great linguist.
“In general,” he says, “I do not draw well with literary men;—not that
I dislike them; but I never knew what to say to them, after I have
praised their last publication. There are several exceptions, to be
sure; but then they have either been men of the world, such as Scott and
Moore, &c., or visionaries out of it, such as Shelley, &c.; but your
literary every-day man and I never met well in company;—especially your
foreigners, whom I never could abide, except Giordani, &c., &c., &c., (I
really can’t name any other.) I don’t remember a man amongst them whom I
ever wished to see twice, except perhaps Mezzophanti, who is a monster
of languages, the Briareus of parts of speech, a walking polyglot, and
more;—who ought to have existed at the time of the Tower of Babel, as
universal interpreter.[380] He is, indeed, a marvel—unassuming also. I
tried him in all the tongues in which I knew a single oath or adjuration
to the gods, against post-boys, savages, Tartars, boatmen, sailors,
pilots, gondoliers, muleteers, camel-drivers, vetturini, post-masters,
post-houses, post, everything; and egad! he astounded me—even to my
English.”
The Abbé Gaume adds, in reference to the last of these languages, an
anecdote still current in Rome, though doubtless a mere exaggeration[381]
of the real story; viz., that, “when Byron had exhausted his vocabulary
of English slang, Mezzofanti quietly asked: ‘And is that all?’
‘I can go no further.’ replied the noble poet, ‘unless I coin words for
the purpose.’
‘Pardon me, my Lord,’ rejoined Mezzofanti; and proceeded to repeat for
him a variety of the refinements of London slang, till then unknown to
his visitor’s rich vocabulary!”[382]
During the winter of 1817-8, a literary society was formed in Bologna for
the cultivation of poetry and the publication of literary and scientific
essays, of which Mezzofanti was appointed president.
The original members of this body were twenty-one in number, and
included Ranzani, Angelelli, Mezzofanti’s nephew, Giuseppe Minarelli,
several professors, both of the University, and of the Academia delle
Belle Arti, and some literary noblemen and gentlemen of the city.
They met occasionally for readings and recitations; and printed a
serial collection, called _Opuscoli Letterarj di Bologna_. I had hopes
of learning something from the records of this society, or from the
recollections of its members, which might tend to illustrate the history
of Mezzofanti’s studies at this period: but, unhappily, not a single
original member of the society is now living; and their only publication
available for the purposes of this biography is Mezzofanti’s own
_Discorso in Lode del P. Aponte_;—his solitary publication, which was
printed in the _Opuscoli Letterarj_, in 1820.
Mezzofanti continued, even after the formation of this society, to
frequent the meetings of the Academy of the Institute. On the 3rd of
December, 1818, he read a paper in this Academy, “on a remarkable
Mexican MS., preserved in the Library of the Institute.” This paper
was most probably the basis of the Essay upon the Mexican Calendar
already alluded to. As it entered minutely into the whole subject of the
hieroglyphical writings of the Mexicans, and discussed at some length
the opinions of all the various writers on Mexican antiquities down to
Humboldt, the paper created very considerable interest in the Academy,
and was spoken of with praise by the literary journals of the day.[383]
The visit of the Emperor Francis I. of Austria to Bologna in 1819,
contributed still more to establish the reputation of Mezzofanti. Having
appointed an interview with him, the Emperor took the precaution of
securing during the audience the presence of a number of members of his
suite, carefully selected so as to represent the chief languages of the
Austrian Empire. Each in turn, German, Magyar, Bohemian, Wallachian,
Illyrian, and Pole, took occasion to address the astonished professor;
but although naturally somewhat startled by the novelty of the scene, and
perhaps abashed by the presence of royalty, he replied with such perfect
fluency and correctness to each, “as to extort not merely approval but
admiration and applause.”[384]
The year 1819 is further notable as the date of Mezzofanti’s only
published composition, the above-named panegyric of his early friend and
instructor Emanuel Aponte. The death of this excellent and venerable
man had occurred more than three years earlier, (November 22, 1815),
and his funeral oration had been pronounced by Filippo Schiassi, the
professor of numismatics, as also by Pacifico Deani, whose discourse
was translated into Spanish by Don Camillo Salina. Aponte’s grateful
pupil, nevertheless, took advantage of the opportunity afforded by
the opening of the public studies of the university, to offer his own
especial tribute to the piety and learning of the good old father, and
particularly to the excellence of his method of teaching the Greek
language and the merits of a Grammar which he had published for the use
of the higher schools.
The Discourse is chiefly occupied (after a sketch of Aponte’s life and
character) with a criticism of the method pursued in this Grammar,—a
criticism chiefly noticeable as embodying the method, (which we know from
other sources to have been the speaker’s own,) of studying a language
rather by rhythm than by rule; “by ascertaining its normal structure,
the principle which governs its inflexions, and especially the dominant
principle which regulates the changes of letters according to the
different organs of speech.”
As a specimen of this general manner of the Discourse, I shall translate
the concluding paragraphs,—the exhortation to the study of Greek
literature with which the professor takes leave of his audience.
“And still shall these studies flourish, my dear young friends,
perpetuated by you under the guidance of the instructions
which Father Emanuel bequeathed to us. His method, which,
in the acquisition of the language, rather exercises the
reason than burdens the memory, and which makes good sense
the chief basis for the right interpretation of an author,
will assuredly conduct to the desired end that ardour which,
on this solemn occasion, you feel renewed within you: an
ardour so great that, had I to-day spoken solely of the
difficulties and obstacles in the path of learning, it would,
nevertheless, give you strength and courage to encounter and
overcome them. Well, therefore, may we have confidence in
you, and believe that you will preserve to your native land
the fame achieved by your forefathers in Grecian studies.
These studies are the special inheritance of our countrymen.
In Italy the muses of Greece sought an asylum, when they fled
before the invader from their ancient glorious abode. Learned
Greeks were at that period dispersed through our principal
cities, where, establishing schools, they found munificent
patrons and zealous pupils. In Rome Grecian literature enjoyed
the generous patronage of Nicholas V.; and around Cardinal
Bessarion were gathered men of vast erudition, who renewed
the lustre of the old Athenian schools, cultivating a wiser
philosophy, however, than the ancients employed; and, thanks
to the precious volumes accumulated by those two illustrious
Mæcenases and by the princes of Italy; thanks to the skill of
the masters and the aptitude and excellence of Italian genius,
Grecian literature, conjointly with Latin, quickly attained
the highest pitch of cultivation amongst us, ushering in the
golden age of Italian letters. A countless series of names
distinguished in this branch of learning presents itself before
me: but I delight rather to consider in prospect the future
series which begins in you. Be not disturbed by any fear
that the pursuit to which I am exhorting you will hinder the
profounder study of the sciences. Alas, very different are the
thoughts, very different, indeed, the cares which distract the
mind of youth and turn its generous fervour aside, miserably
disappointing the bright hopes that were formed of it. No:
theologians, lawyers, philosophers, physicians, mathematicians,
all men of science and learning, have ever found in the Greek
literature their most agreeable solace. Many of the sciences
had, in Greece, early reached a high degree of perfection;
others made a noble beginning in that country; most of them
are embellished with titles borrowed from its language;
and all of them have recourse to Greek when they wish, with
precision and dignity, to denominate, and thereby to define,
the objects of their consideration. ‘These studies,’ says one
who owed much of his eloquence to the industry with which he
cultivated them, ‘furnish youth with profitable and delightful
knowledge; they amuse maturer years; they adorn prosperity,
and in adversity afford an asylum from care; they delight us
in the quiet of home, and are no hindrance in affairs of the
gravest moment; they discover for us many a useful thing; for
the traveller they procure the regard of strangers, and, in
the solitude of the country, they solace the mind with the
purest of pleasures.’ Let your main study, then, be the sterner
sciences; Greek shall follow as a faithful companion, affording
you useful assistance therein as well as delightful recreation.
And thus, thinking of nothing else, having nothing else at
heart, than religion and learning, let the expectations of your
friends and of your country be fulfilled in you. Thus shall you
correspond with the paternal designs of our best of princes,
His Holiness, the Sovereign Pontiff, who, in his munificence
and splendour, daily enlarges the dignity of this illustrious
University, promoting, by wise provisions, your education and
your glory. And, whilst you vigorously prosecute the career
so well begun, while your love for Greek increases with the
increasing profit you derive from it, I, too, will exult in
your brilliant, progress. To this I will look for a monument,
truly durable and immortal, of my dear Father Emanuel, to whom
I feel myself bound by eternal gratitude; since gratitude,
reverence, and devotion are surely due to them who, by example
and by precept, point out to us the road to virtue and to
learning, inviting and exhorting us, with loving solicitude,
to direct our lives to praiseworthy pursuits and to true
happiness.”[385] (pp. 22-26.)
Soon after the death of Father Aponte, Mezzofanti had the further grief
of losing his friend, the celebrated Signora Clotilda Tambroni, who,
although considerably older than he, had been, as we have seen, his
fellow pupil under Father Aponte, and with whom he had ever afterwards
continued upon terms of most intimate friendship. Like Mezzofanti, the
Signora Tambroni was, after the publication of the concordat, reinstated
in the Greek professorship from which she had been dispossessed at the
occupation of Bologna by the French. She was an excellent linguist,
being familiar with Greek, Latin, Spanish, French, and English,[386]
and a poetess of some reputation, not only in her own, but also in the
learned languages.[387] The Breslau professor, already referred to,
Herr Kephalides, was much interested by her conversation; and that
the interest which she created did not arise merely from the unusual
circumstance of a lady’s devoting herself to such studies, but from her
own unquestioned learning and ability, is attested by all who knew her.
“It was a pleasant thing,” says Lady Morgan,[388] “to hear her learned
coadjutor [Mezzofanti] in describing to us the good qualities of her
heart, do ample justice to the profound learning which had raised her
to an equality of collegiate rank with himself, without an innuendo at
that erudition, which, in England, is a greater female stigma than vice
itself.”
The lively but caustic authoress just named, visited Italy in 1819-20. In
her account of Bologna she devotes a note to the Abate Mezzofanti, under
whose escort, (which she recognises as a peculiar advantage,) she visited
the library and museum of the University.
“The well-known Abate Mezzofanti, librarian to the Institute,” she
writes, “was of our party. Conversing with this very learned person on
the subject of his ‘forty languages,’ he smiled at the exaggeration, and
said, that although he had gone over the outline of forty languages, he
was not master of them, as he had dropped such as had not books worth
reading. His Greek master, being a Spaniard, taught him Spanish. The
German, Polish, Bohemian, and Hungarian tongues he originally acquired
during the occupation of Bologna by the Austrian power; and afterwards
he had learned French from the French, and English by reading and
by conversing with English travellers. With all this superfluity of
languages, he spoke nothing but Bolognese in his own family. With us, he
always spoke English, and with scarcely any accent, though I believe he
has never been out of Bologna. His tone of phrase and peculiar selection
of words were those of the ‘Spectator;’ and it is probable that he was
most conversant with the English works of that day. The Abate Mezzofanti
was professor of the Greek and Oriental languages under the French: when
Buonaparte abolished the Greek professorship, Mezzofanti was pensioned
off. He was again made Greek professor by the Austrians, again set aside
by the French, and again restored by the Pope.”[389]
Like most of Lady Morgan’s sketches, this account of Mezzofanti, although
interesting, is not free from inaccuracies. Thus she falls into the
common error already noticed, that Mezzofanti up to this time “had never
been out of Bologna,” and a still more important mistake as to the cause
of his first deprivation of his professorship. He was dispossessed of
this professorship, (which, it may be added, was not of Greek but of
Arabic,) not because the professorship was suppressed, but because he
declined to take the oaths to the new government. The account of his
second deprivation is also inaccurate; and the assertion that he never
cultivated any languages except those which “had books worth reading,” we
shall see hereafter, to be entirely without foundation.
The statement too, that “he spoke only Bolognese in his own family” is
an exaggeration. With the elder members of the family—his father, his
mother, and his sister, Signora Minarelli—it was so; and there was a
cousin of his, named Antonia Mezzofanti, a lively and agreeable old dame,
and a frequent guest at the house of his sister, to whom he was much
attached, and with whom he delighted to converse in the pleasant dialect
of Bologna. But the children of his sister were all well educated,
and, like the educated classes throughout all the provincial cities of
Italy, habitually spoke the common and classical Italian language. Even
after Mezzofanti came to Rome, when questioned as to the number of
languages that he spoke, he often used jestingly to reply: “fifty, and
Bolognese.”[390]
Very nearly at the same time with Lady Morgan’s interview, Mezzofanti was
visited by a tourist far more competent to form a just opinion of the
extent of his attainments—M. Molbech, a Danish scholar, author of a Tour
in Germany, France, England, and Italy. I shall close the chapter with
his testimony. It is chiefly valuable, in reference to his own language,
the Danish, in which he had an opportunity of fully testing Mezzofanti’s
knowledge, in an interview of nearly two hours’ duration. It is clear,
too, from the very tone of his narrative, that, while he carried away the
highest admiration for the extraordinary man whom he had seen, he was
by no means disposed to fall into that blind and indiscriminate eulogy
of which other less instructed and more imaginative visitors have been
accused.
“At last, in the afternoon,” he writes, “I succeeded in meeting
one of the living wonders of Italy, the librarian Mezzofanti,
with whom I had only spoken for a few moments in the gallery,
when I passed through Bologna before: I now spent a couple of
hours with him, at his lodgings in the university building,
and at the library, and would willingly, for his sake alone,
have prolonged my stay at Bologna for a couple of days, if I
had not been bound by contract with the vetturino as far as
Venice. His celebrity must be an inconvenience to him; for
scarcely any educated traveller leaves Bologna without having
paid him a visit, and the hired guides never omit to mention
his name among the first curiosities of the town. This learned
Italian, who has never been so far from his birthplace,
Bologna, as to Florence or Rome, is certainly one of the
world’s greatest geniuses in point of languages. I do not know
the number he understands, but there is scarcely any European
dialect, whether Romanic, Scandinavian, or Slavonic, that this
miraculous polyglottist does not speak. It is said the total
amounts to more than thirty languages; and among them is that
of the gipsies, which he learned to speak from a gipsy who was
quartered with an Hungarian regiment at Bologna.
“I found a German with him, with whom he was conversing in
fluent and well sounding German; when we were alone, and I
began to speak to him in the same language, he interrupted
me with a question in Danish, ‘Hvorledes har det behaget dem
i Italien?’ (‘How have you been pleased with Italy?’) After
this, he pursued the conversation in Danish, by his own desire,
almost all the time I continued with him, as this, according
to his own polite expression, was a pleasure he did not often
enjoy; and he spoke the language, from want of exercise,
certainly not with the same fluency and ease as English or
German, but with almost entire correctness. Imagine my delight
at such a conversation! Of Danish books, however, I found in
his rich and excellent philological collection no more than
Baden’s Grammar, and Hallage’s Norwegian Vocabulary; and in
the library Haldorson’s Icelandic Dictionary, in which he made
me read him a couple of pages of the preface as a lesson in
pronunciation. Our conversation turned mostly on Northern and
German literature. The last he is pretty minutely acquainted
with; and he is very fond of German poetry, which he has
succeeded in bringing into fashion with the ladies of Bologna,
so that Schiller and Goethe, whom the Romans hardly know by
name, are here read in the original, and their works are to be
had in the library. This collection occupies a finely-built
saloon, in which it is arranged in dark presses with wire
gratings, and is said to contain about 120,000 volumes. Besides
Mezzofanti, there are an under librarian, two assistants, and
three other servants. Books are bought to the amount of about
1000 scudi, or more than 200_l._ sterling, a year. Mezzofanti
is not merely a linguist, but is well acquainted with literary
history and biography, and also with the library under his
charge. As an author he is not known, so far as I am aware; and
he seems at present to be no older than about forty. I must
add, what perhaps would be least expected from a learned man
who has been unceasingly occupied with linguistic studies, and
has hardly been out of his native town, that he has the finest
and most polished manners, and, at the same time, the most
engaging good nature.”[391]
Herr Molbech is still the chief secretary of the Royal Library in
Copenhagen. He is one of the most distinguished writers on Danish
philology; his great Danish Dictionary[392] is the classical authority on
the language; and, in recognition of his great literary merits, he has
been created a privy councillor and a commander of the Danebrog order.