[1820-1828.]
Mezzofanti’s regular studies suffered some interruption in the early
part of 1820. Debilitated by the excessive and protracted application
which has been described, his health had for some time been gradually
giving way, and at last he was peremptorily ordered to suspend his
lectures, and to discontinue his private studies for six months.[393]
During this interval he employed himself chiefly in botanizing, a study
in which he is said to have made considerable progress. He also made a
short excursion to the beautiful district of Mantua, and afterwards to
Modena, Pisa, and Leghorn.[394] In the course of this journey he found
an opportunity of making himself acquainted with the Hebrew Psalmody
as followed in the modern synagogues, and with the practical system of
accentuation of the ancient Hebrew Language now in use among the Jews
of Italy. The object of his visit to Leghorn was, that, from the Greek
sailors of that port, he might acquire the pronunciation of modern
Romaic.[395]
After a short time his health was perfectly restored, with the exception
of a certain debility of sight from which he never afterwards completely
recovered; and he resumed his ordinary duties in the university about the
middle of the year 1820.
The solar eclipse of the 20th of September in that year attracted many
scientific visitors to Bologna and the neighbouring cities. Being annular
in that region, the eclipse was watched with especial interest by all the
astronomers of Northern Italy, by Plana at Turin, by Santini at Padua,
by Padre Inghirami at Florence, and by Padre Tinari at Siena. At Bologna
the director of the observatory at this time was Pietro Caturegli, editor
of the Bolognese _Efemeridi Astronomiche_, and one of Mezzofanti’s most
valued friends.
Caturegli’s reputation and the excellent condition of his observatory,
induced the celebrated Hungarian Astronomer, Baron Von Zach, who, after
a career of much and varied adventure, was at that time engaged in
editing at Genoa the Correspondance Astronomique, (a French continuation
of his former German Journal _Monatliche Correspondenz für Erz- und
Himmels-Kunde_,) to select Bologna as the place from which to observe
this interesting phenomenon. He was accompanied by a Russian nobleman,
Prince Volkonski, a man of highly cultivated literary and scientific
tastes, and by Captain Smyth of H. M. Ship, _Aid_, who had just completed
his survey of the Ionian Islands. Notwithstanding numerous and urgent
applications from other quarters, these three distinguished foreigners,
together with his friend Mezzofanti, were the only persons whom Caturegli
admitted to the observatory during his observations of the eclipse.
The Baron published in his Journal[396] a very full account of the
phenomena of the eclipse, to which he appended as a note the following
sketch of his companion on the occasion.
“The annular eclipse of the sun,” he writes, “was one curiosity
for us, and Signor Mezzofanti was another. This extraordinary
man is really a rival of Mithridates; he speaks thirty-two
languages, living and dead, in the manner I am going to
describe. He accosted me in Hungarian, and with a compliment
so well turned, and in such excellent Magyar, that I was
quite taken by surprise and stupefied. He afterwards spoke
to me in German, at first in good Saxon (the _Crusca_ of the
Germans,) and then in the Austrian and Swabian dialects, with
a correctness of accent that amazed me to the last degree,
and made me burst into a fit of laughter at the thought of
the contrast between the language and the appearance of this
astonishing professor. He spoke English to Captain Smyth,
Russian and Polish to Prince Volkonski, not stuttering and
stammering, but with the same volubility as if he had been
speaking his mother tongue, the dialect of Bologna. I was
quite unable to tear myself away from him. At a dinner at the
cardinal legate’s, Della Spina, his eminence placed me at table
next him; after having chatted with him in several languages,
all of which he spoke much better than I did, it came into my
head to address to him on a sudden some words of Wallachian.
Without hesitation, and without appearing to remark what an
out-of-the-way dialect I had branched off to, off went my
polyglot in the same language, and so fast, that I was obliged
to say to him; ‘Gently, gently, Mr. Abbé; I really can’t follow
you; I am at the end of my Latin-Wallachian.’ It was more than
forty years since I had spoken the language, or even thought of
it, though I knew it very well in my youth, when I served in an
Hungarian regiment, and was in garrison at Transylvania. The
professor was not only more ready in the language than I, but
he informed me on this occasion, that he knew another tongue
that I had never been able to get hold of, though I had enjoyed
better opportunities of doing so than he, as I formerly had men
that spoke it in my regiment.
“This was the language of the Zigans, or Gipsies, whom the
French so improperly call Bohemians, at which the good and
genuine Bohemians, that is to say, the inhabitants of the
kingdom of Bohemia, are not a little indignant. But how could
an Italian abbé, who had never been out of his native town,
find means to learn a language that is neither written nor
printed? In the Italian wars an Hungarian regiment was in
garrison at Bologna: the language-loving professor discovered a
gipsy in it, and made him his teacher; and, with the facility
and happy memory that nature has gifted him with, he was soon
master of the language, which, it is believed, is nothing but a
dialect, and a corrupted one into the bargain, of some tribes
of Parias of Hindostan.”[397]
The wide and peculiar circulation of the journal in which this
interesting sketch appeared, contributed more than any previous notice to
extend the fame of Mezzofanti. As might naturally be expected, however,
details so marvellous, were received with considerable incredulity by
some, and were explained away by others as mere embellishments of a
traveller’s tale. In consequence, Von Zach, in a subsequent number of
his journal, not only reiterated the statement, but added fuller and more
interesting particulars regarding it.
“Many persons have doubted,” he writes, “what we said of
this astonishing professor of Bologna in our fourth volume;
as there have also been persons who doubted what Valerius
Maximus relates of the analogous talents of Cyrus and
Mithridates. Although all historians have the character of
being a little given to lying, Valerius, notwithstanding,
passes for a sufficiently veracious author. He says in the
eighth book and 9th chapter of his History, or rather of his
Compendium of History: _Cyrus ommium militum suorum nomina,
Mithridates duarum et viginti gentium quæ sub regno ejus
erant linguas, ediscendo_. People who came several centuries
after, and who probably did not know more than one language,
and possibly not even that one correctly, have pretended that
the twenty-two languages of Mithridates were only different
dialects, and that Cyrus only knew the names of his generals.
It may be so; we know nothing of the reality, and consequently
shall not contradict those critics; but what we do know is,
that Signor Mezzofanti speaks very good German, Hungarian,
Slavonic, Wallachian, Russian, Polish, French and English. I
have mentioned my authorities. It has been said that Prince
Volkonski and Captain Smyth gave their testimony in favour
of this wonderful professor, out of politeness only. But I
asked the prince alone, how the professor spoke Russian, and
he told me he should be very glad if his own son spoke it as
well. The child spoke English and French better than Russian,
having always been in foreign countries with his father. The
captain said, ‘the professor speaks English better than I do;
we sailors knock the language to pieces on board our vessels,
where we have Scotch and Irish, and foreigners of all sorts;
there is often an odd sort of jargon spoken in a ship; the
professor speaks with correctness, and even with elegance; it
is easy to see that he has studied the language.’
“M. Mezzofanti came one day to see me at the hotel where I
was staying: I happened not to be in my own rooms, but on a
visit to another traveller who lodged in the same hotel, Baron
Ulmenstein, a colonel in the King of Hanover’s service, who was
travelling with his lady. M. Mezzofanti was brought to me; and,
as I was the only person who knew him, I introduced him to the
company as a professor and librarian of the university. He took
part in the conversation, which was carried on in German; and,
after this had gone on for a considerable time, the baroness
took an opportunity of asking me aside, how it came to pass
that a German was a professor and librarian in an Italian
university. I replied, that M. Mezzofanti was no German,
that he was a very good Italian, of that city of Bologna,
and had never been out of it. Judge of the astonishment of
all the company, and of the explanations that followed! My
readers, I am sure, will not think such a testimony as the
Baroness Ulmenstein’s open to any suspicion. She is a thorough
German, highly cultivated, and speaks four languages in great
perfection.”[398]
One result of the doubts thus expressed as to the credibility of Von
Zach’s report was to draw out a testimony to Mezzofanti’s familiarity
with a language for which he had not before publicly gotten credit, the
Czechish or Bohemian. A correspondent of the Baron at Vienna, having
read his statement in the _Correspondance_, expressed his satisfaction
at the confirmation which it supplied of what he had before regarded as
incredible.
“I was very glad,” he writes, “to see confirmed by you what the
Chevalier d’Odelga, colonel and commandant of Prince Leopold
of Naples’ regiment, told me of that marvellous man. Chevalier
d’Odelga, who is a Bohemian, conversed in that language with
M. Mezzofanti, and assured me that he would have taken him for
a countryman had he not known him to be an Italian. I frankly
confess that until now, I only half believed the tale, for I
regard the Bohemian language as the very rack of an Italian
tongue.”[399]
Captain (afterwards admiral) Smyth, who accompanied Baron von Zach on
this occasion, still survives, after a career of high professional
as well as literary and scientific distinction. As a reply to the
incredulity to which Von Zach alludes, I may add not only that Admiral
Smyth in his “Cycle of Celestial Objects for the Use of Astronomers,”
adopts the Baron’s narrative and reprints it at length,[400] but that
his present recollections of the interview, which he has been so good as
to communicate to me, fully confirm all the Baron’s statements.[401] The
admiral adds that, although Mezzofanti made no claim to the character of
a practical astronomer, he understood well and was much interested in the
phenomena of the eclipse, and especially in its predicted annularity at
Bologna. “It was at Mezzofanti’s instance also,” he says, “that Caturegli
undertook to compute in advance the elements for an almanac for the use
of certain distant convents of the Levant, to aid them in celebrating
Easter contemporaneously.”[402]
Startling, therefore, as Von Zach’s account appeared at the time of its
publication, we can no longer hesitate to receive it literally and in its
integrity.
In reference to one part of it, that which regards the manner in which
Mezzofanti acquired the gipsy language—viz., “that he learned it from a
gipsy soldier in one of the Hungarian regiments quartered at Bologna,”
it is proper to observe, that he appears also, towards the end of his
life, to have studied this dialect from books. The catalogue of his
library contains two Gipsy Grammars, one in German, and one in Italian.
The peculiar idiom of this strange language in which he himself was
initiated, is that which prevails among the gipsies of Bohemia and
Hungary, or rather Transylvania, which is the purest of all the European
gipsy dialects, and differs considerably from that of the Spanish
gipsies. Borrow has given a short comparative vocabulary[403] of both,
and has also printed the Pater Noster in the Spanish gipsy form.
The notoriety which this and other similar narratives procured for
the modest professor, speedily rendered him an object of curiosity to
every stranger visiting Bologna; and as there was no want of critics
not unwilling to question, or at least to scrutinize, the truth of the
marvels recounted by their predecessors, it may easily be believed that
his life became in some sort a perpetual ordeal. Thus Blume, the author
of the _Iter Italicum_, who visited Bologna some time after Von Zach,
does not hesitate to take the Baron to task, and to declare his account
very much exaggerated.
“Bianconi and Mezzofanti,” says Blume, “are the librarians.
The latter, as is well known, is considered throughout all
Europe as a linguistic prodigy, a second Mithridates; and is
said to speak and write with fluency two-and-thirty dead and
living languages. Willingly as I join in this admiration,
especially as his countrymen usually display little talent
for the acquisition of foreign tongues, I cannot but remark
that the account recently given in the fourth and fifth
volumes of Von Zach’s ‘Correspondance Astronomique,’ is very
much exaggerated. Readiness in speaking a language should
not be confounded with philological knowledge. I have heard
few Italians speak German as well as Mezzofanti; but I have
also heard him maintain that between Platt-Deutsch, or the
Low German, and the Dutch language, there was no difference
whatever.”[404]
It will be remarked here, however, that these condemnatory observations
of Herr Blume do not regard Mezzofanti’s attainments as a linguist, but
only his skill as a philologist. On the contrary, to his linguistic
talents Blume bears testimony hardly less unreserved than that which he
criticises in the Baron; and as regards the rest of Blume’s criticism,
the mistake in philology, (as to the identity of Platt-Deutsch with
Dutch,) which he alleges, and which appears to be the sole foundation
of his depreciatory judgment of Mezzofanti’s philological knowledge, is
certainly a very minor one, and one which may be very readily excused
in any other than a German; especially as Adelung (II. 261), distinctly
states of at least one dialect of Platt-Deutsch, that spoken in Hamburg
and Altona, that it contains a large admixture of Dutch words—so large
that a cursory observer, if we may judge from the specimens which
Adelung gives (II. 268), might very readily consider the two dialects
almost identical. As to another statement of Blume’s, which imputes to
Mezzofanti a want of courtesy to strangers visiting or studying in the
library, it is contradicted by the unanimous testimony of all who ever
saw him whether at Bologna or at Rome. He was politeness and good nature
itself.
But it must not be supposed that all the visits which Mezzofanti received
were of the character hitherto described, and were attended with no fruit
beyond a passing display of his wonderful faculty. Visitors occasionally
appeared, whose knowledge he was enabled to turn to profitable account
in extending his own store of languages. From an Armenian traveller
who came to Bologna in 1818, he received his first initiation in that
difficult and peculiar language, which he afterwards extended in a
visit to the celebrated convent of San Lazzaro, at Venice. He studied
Georgian with the assistance of a young man from Teflis, who graduated
in medicine at Bologna. And even from natives of those countries with
the general language of which he was most familiar, he seldom failed to
learn some of the peculiarities of local or provincial dialects by which
the several branches of each are distinguished. In this way he learned
Flemish from some Belgian students of the university. On the other hand,
select pupils from various parts came to attend his Greek or Oriental
lectures, or to pursue their linguistic studies privately under his
direction. One of these, the Abate Celestino Cavedoni, now librarian of
the Este Library at Modena, and one of the most eminent antiquarians
of Italy, was his pupil from 1816 till 1821. With this excellent youth
Mezzofanti formed a cordial friendship; and after Cavedoni’s return to
Modena, they maintained a steady and affectionate, although not very
frequent, correspondance until Mezzofanti’s final removal from Bologna.
Another was Dr. Liborio Veggetti, the present occupant of Mezzofanti’s
ancient office in the university library, an office which he owes to the
warm recommendation of his former master. A third was the still more
distinguished scholar, Ippolito Rosellini, the associate and successor
of Champollion in his great work on Egyptian antiquities. Rosellini,
who was a native of Pisa, had distinguished himself so much during his
early studies in that university, that, on the death of Malanima, the
professor of oriental languages, in 1819, Rosellini, then only in his
nineteenth year, was provisionally selected to succeed him. It was
ordered, nevertheless, that he should first prepare himself by a regular
course of study; and with this view he was sent, at the charge of his
government, to attend in Bologna the lectures of the great master of
oriental studies. Mezzofanti entered with all his characteristic kindness
and ardour into the young man’s project. He sent him with a warm letter
of recommendation, May 17, 1823, to his friend De Rossi, at Parma; later
in the same year, by the representation which he made of his industry
and progress, he obtained for him an increase of the pension which had
been assigned for his probationary studies; and in the work on the Hebrew
Vowel-points,’ which Rosellini published in Bologna,[405] he owed much to
the kind criticism and advice of his master. He remained at Bologna till
1824, when his appointment was made absolute, and he returned to Pisa to
enter upon its duties. The distinguished after career of Rosellini is
well-known. I shall only add, that through life he entertained the most
grateful recollection of his old master, and that, on his return from the
Egyptian expedition, he made a special visit to Rome for the purpose of
seeing him.[406]
The Abate Cavedoni, who, on his return to Modena, as we have seen,
continued to correspond for many years with Mezzofanti, has kindly
communicated to me those of Mezzofanti’s letters which he has preserved.
They contain some interesting particulars of a portion of his life
regarding which few other notices have been published.
In addition to his public lectures in the university and his occupation
as librarian, he still continued to give private instructions in
languages. Mr. Francis Hare, elder brother of the late Archdeacon Julius
Hare, learned Italian under his direction. The Countess of Granville,
then residing in the family of her aunt, the Countess Marescalchi,
remembers to have received her first lessons in English from him. A
young Franciscan of the principality of Bosnia prepared himself for his
mission by studying Turkish under his tuition. Many other foreigners
were among his pupils. Indeed, the ordinary routine of his day, as
detailed by one of his surviving friends in Bologna and confirmed by
his own letters to Cavedoni, may well excite a feeling of wonder at the
extraordinary energy, which enabled him, from the midst of occupations so
continuous and so varied, to steal time for the purpose of increasing,
or even of maintaining, the stores which he had already acquired. He
rose soon after four o’clock, both in winter and in summer; and, after
his morning prayer and meditation, celebrated mass—in winter at the
earliest light; after which he took a cup of chocolate or coffee. At
eight o’clock he gave his daily lecture in the university; thence he
passed to the library, where, as is plain from many circumstances, he
was generally actively engaged in the duties of his office, although
constantly interrupted by the visits of strangers. As his apartments were
in the library building, his occupations can hardly be said to have been
suspended by his frugal dinner, which, according to the national usage,
was at twelve o’clock, and from which he returned to the library. The
afternoon was occupied with his private pupils. As his habits of eating
and drinking were temperate in the extreme, his supper, (sometimes in his
own apartments, sometimes at the house of his sister or of some other
friend,) was of the very simplest kind. He continued his studies to a
late hour; and, even after retiring to bed, he invariably read for a
short time, till the symptoms of approaching sleep satisfied him that,
without fear of loss of time, he might abandon all further thought of
study.
Such were his ordinary every day occupations; and, amply as they may seem
to fill up the circle of twenty-four hours, he contrived, amidst them
all, to find time for many offices of voluntary charity. He was assiduous
in the confessional, and especially in receiving the confessions of
foreigners of every degree. For the spiritual care of all Catholic
foreigners, indeed, he seems to have been regarded as invested with
a particular commission. In cases of sickness, especially, he was a
constant and most cheerful visitor; and there are not a few still living,
of those that visited Bologna during these years, who retain a lively
and grateful recollection of the kindly attentions, and the still more
consolatory ministrations, for which they were indebted to his ready
charity.
Another extra-official occupation which absorbed a considerable portion
of his time, was the examination of books submitted to him for revision,
particularly of those connected with his favourite studies. It sometimes
happened that he received such commissions from Rome. “I cannot reckon,”
he writes, apologetically, to his friend the abate Cavedoni, “upon a
single free moment. The library, my professorship, my private lectures,
the revision of books, foreigners, well, sick, or dying, do not leave me
time to breathe. I am fast losing, nay I have already lost, the habit of
applying myself to study; and when, from time to time, I am called on to
do anything, I find myself reduced to the necessity of improvising.”
The most interesting record of this portion of his life will be the
series of his letters to his friend and pupil Cavedoni, already alluded
to. Unfortunately they are not numerous, and they occur at rather distant
intervals; but they are at least valuable as being perfectly simple and
unstudied, and free, to an extent very unusual in Italian correspondence,
from that artificial and ceremonious character which so often destroys in
our eyes the charm of the cleverest foreign correspondence. Cavedoni,
during his studies at Bologna, had lived on terms of the most cordial
intimacy with his professor and with his family. Mezzofanti’s nephews,
especially the young abate Joseph Mezzofanti, (whom we shall find
commemorated in some of these letters under the pet name _Giuseppino_,
_Joe_,) had been his constant companion and friend.
The first of these letters was written in reply to one of the ordinary
new-year’s complimentary letters, which the abate Cavedoni, soon after
his return to Modena, had addressed to his old professor.
_Bologna, January 18, 1822._
My most esteemed Don Celestino,
I did not fail, on the first day of the new year, to pray with
all my heart that God may ever bestow abundantly upon you His
best and sweetest graces. May He deign to hear a prayer, which
I shall never cease to offer! I commend myself in turn to your
fervent prayers.
I am delighted to hear that the abate Baraldi is about to
employ his various learning and his great zeal so worthily in
the cause of our holy religion. I shall be most happy to take
a copy of the “_Memorie_,” which, as I am informed, are about
to appear under his editorship. May I beg of you to arrange
that the numbers shall reach me as early as possible after
publication? They may be sent through the post; but it will be
necessary to fold the packet in such a way as to let it be seen
that it is a periodical, in order that it may not be charged
the full postage. My great object is to receive the numbers at
the earliest moment, in order that a work which is intended to
counteract the irreligious principles now unhappily so current,
may be read as extensively as possible.
I shall examine your medal to-morrow, and, should I succeed in
making anything out of it, I will write to you. Let me know how
I shall send it back to you.
Recollect that we are looking forward here to a visit from
you with the utmost anxiety. It was a great surprise and
disappointment to us, not to see you during the late holy
festivals. Do not forget me, and believe me,
Ever your most affectionate servant,
D. Joseph Mezzofanti.
The journal referred to in this letter is the now voluminous periodical,
“_Memorie di Religione, di Morale, e di Letteratura_,” founded at Modena
in 1822, and continued, with one or two short interruptions, up to the
present time. The “Abate Baraldi” was a learned ecclesiastic, afterwards
arch-priest of Modena.
Cavedoni, since his return to Modena, had been chiefly engaged in
archæological studies, and especially in that of numismatics. He
often consulted Mezzofanti on these subjects, to which, without being
a professed antiquarian, the latter had given some attention. In
acknowledgment of this obligation, Cavedoni, several years afterwards,
dedicated to him his Spiecilegio Numismatico.[407]
The following letter throws some light on the time and the manner in
which his attention was first turned to the Georgian language. The youth
to whom it refers was in Bologna in the year 1820 or 1821.
Cavedoni had apologised for occupying his time by his letters.
_Bologna, April 5, 1823._
My Dear Don Celestino,
It will always be a most grateful and pleasing distraction
for me in the midst of my endless occupations, to receive
even a line from you. It is true that occasionally I may not
be able to enjoy this gratification without the drawback
arising from regret at not having it in my power to reply to
you immediately; but I trust that you will be able to make
allowance for me, and that such delays on my part will never
cause you to suspect that I have ceased to remember you with
special affection.
Of the two works which you mention, that of Father Giorgi
still maintains the reputation which its author commanded
during life by his prodigious learning. Will you let me know
whether the little work in Georgian that you refer to is
printed or manuscript? You are quite right in supposing that I
have not thought of that language since the departure of the
young physician of Teflis, who took his medical degree in our
university. Alas! what a large proportion of my life is spent
in teaching! If I but did that well, I might be content; but
when one does too much, he does nothing as it ought to be done.
I had not heard a word of Signor Baraldi’s affliction, for
which I am much concerned. I trust that, when you write again,
you will have better news for me. Pray present my special
compliments to the Librarian.
Do not forget me; and, in order that I may know you do not,
write often to assure me that it is so. Don Giuseppino sends
you a thousand greetings, and I myself more than a thousand.
Ever your most devoted servant and friend,
D. Joseph Mezzofanti.
In this year, Mezzofanti made the acquaintance of the celebrated Duchess
of Devonshire, during one of her visits to the north of Italy. The
success of her magnificent edition of Horace’s Fifth Satire—his journey
to Brundusium—had suggested to her the idea of a similar edition of the
Eneid. The first volume, with a series of illustrations, scenical, as
well as historical, (of Troy, Ithaca, Gaeta, Gabii, &c.,) had appeared in
Rome in 1819;[408] and the object of the duchess in this visit, was to
procure sketches in the locality of Mantua, and especially a sketch of
Pietole, the supposed site of the ancient Andes, the place of the poet’s
birth, upon that plain,
————tardis ingens ubi flexibus errat
Mincius.
One of Mezzofanti’s letters, addressed to his friend Pezzana, shews
the lengths to which this eccentric lady carried her zeal for the
illustration of this really magnificent work. Although the second volume
had been already published, and many of the copies had been distributed,
she continued to add to the number of the illustrations.
“Her Grace, the duchess of Devonshire,” he writes, July 6th,
1823, “on leaving Bologna, commissioned me to forward to you
the second volume of the Eneid, translated by Caro. In order
to secure its safe and punctual delivery, I begged the good
offices of the Abate Crescini, who had just then arrived; and
he at once undertook it with his usual courtesy. This edition
has won the admiration of all our artists; and the duchess, not
content with its present illustrations, has gone to Mantua,
taking with her another excellent landscape-painter, our
fellow-citizen, Signor Fantuzzi, to make a sketch of Pietole,
to be added to the other plates, which already adorn this
splendid work of art.”
In August, 1823, died the venerable Pope Pius VII. The desire, which, on
his return from captivity, he expressed to secure Mezzofanti’s services
in his own capital, had been repeated subsequently on more than one
occasion. The new Pope, Leo XII., regarded him with equal favour; but his
attachment to home still remained unchanged; and the Pope named him, in
1824, a member of the Collegio dei consultori at Bologna.
Of his correspondence during this year no portion has come into my hands;
but there is one of his letters of 1825, (dated April 8th,) which,
although it is but an answer to a commonplace letter written to him by
Cavedoni, with the catalogue of an expected sale of books, seems worthy
to be preserved, at least as an indication of the direction and progress
of his studies.
“It is always difficult,” he writes, “to fix the fair price of
a class of books which either are not in the market at all, or
which appear but seldom for sale, chiefly because there are
but few who seek for such publications. In my case, it becomes
almost impossible to determine it, as I have no opportunity of
seeing the books, and very little leisure even to examine the
catalogue, being obliged to return it in so short a time.
“I only venture, therefore, to select a few, which I should be
disposed to take, provided the price of all together shall not
exceed forty Roman crowns. Try to make a bargain for me, or at
all events, endeavour to prevent the books from being either
scattered or buried in some inaccessible corner.
“I should wish then to take the following:—
The ‘nine MSS., either extracted from printed books, or of
uncertain value.’
The ‘Grammatica Japonica,’ Romæ No. 22, in the Catalogue.
The ‘Grammatica Marasta,’[409] number 32.
The ‘Grammatica Linguæ Amharicæ,’[410] number 43.
The ‘Osservazioni sulla Lingua albanese,’ number 44.
The ‘Grammatica Damulica,’[411] number 46.
Benjamin Schulz’s, ‘Grammatica Hindostanica,’ number 50.
‘Chilidugu; sive ses Chilenses,’[412] number 67.
And the ‘Catecismo en Lengua Española y Moxa,’[413] No 71.
I shall await your reply.”
Only one of these works, the “Observations on the Albanese Language,”
(by Francis Maria da Lecce,) appears in the catalogue of Mezzofanti’s
Library. Benjamin Schulz’s Tamul Bible and New Testament, are both in
that catalogue, but not his Hindostani Grammar. Probably the price of
the books exceeded the very modest limit which Mezzofanti’s humble means
compelled him to fix.
In the August of 1825, he had a visit from the veteran philologist and
_literateur_, Frederic Jacobs, of Gotha. The report of Jacobs may be
considered of special importance, as he had been prepared, by the doubts
expressed as to the credibility of Baron Von Zach’s report, to scrutinize
with some jealousy the real extent of the attainments thus glowingly
described. It is important, therefore, to note that after quoting all the
most material portions of Von Zach’s narrative, he fully confirms it from
his own observations—
“I was most kindly received by him,” says Dr. Jacobs: “we spoke
in German for above an hour, so that I had full opportunity for
observing the facility with which he spoke; his conversation
was animated, his vocabulary select and appropriate, his
pronunciation by no means foreign, and I could detect nothing
but here and there a little of the North German accent. He was
not unacquainted with German literature, spoke among other
things of Voss’s services in the theory of metre, and made
some observations on the imitation of the metrical system of
the ancients. His opinions were precise and expressed without
dogmatism. This fault, so common among persons of talent,
appears quite foreign to him, and there is not a trace of
charlatanism about him.”
As a somewhat different opinion has been expressed by others, the reader
will observe the testimony borne by Jacobs, not only to Mezzofanti’s
scholarship and philological attainments in a department but little
cultivated, but also to the “selectness and appropriateness” of his
German vocabulary, the “facility with which he spoke,” and the general
purity and correctness of his conversational style.
He proceeds to describe another peculiarity of Mezzofanti’s extraordinary
faculty which is equally deserving of notice, but which no other visitor
whom we have hitherto seen, has brought out so strongly.
“Not less remarkable are the ease and readiness with which
he passes in conversation from one language to another, from
the north to the south, from the east to the west, and the
dexterity with which he speaks several of the most difficult
together, without the least seeming effort; and whereas,
in cognate languages, the slightest difference creates
confusion;—so that, for instance the German in Holland or the
Dutchman in Germany, often mixes the sister and mother tongues
so as to become unintelligible;—Mezzofanti ever draws the
line most sharply, and his path in each realm of languages is
uniformly firm and secure.”
We may also add Professor Jacobs’ description of the personal appearance
of the great linguist at this period of his life.
“Mezzofanti,” he says, “is of the middle size, or rather below
it; he is thin and pale, and his whole appearance indicates
delicacy. He appears to be between fifty and sixty years old
[he was really, in 1825, fifty-one]; his movements are easy and
unembarrassed; his whole bearing is that of a man who has mixed
much in society. He is active and zealous in the discharge of
his duties, and never fails to celebrate mass every day.”[414]
I have thought it necessary to draw the reader’s attention to these
points, in reference to Mezzofanti’s German, in order that he may compare
them with the observations of Dr. Tholuck, Chevalier Bunsen, Guido
Görres, and other distinguished Germans, who visited him at a later
period.
All his later letters to the Abate Cavedoni, which are filled with
apologies for his tardiness as a correspondent, tell the same story of
ceaseless occupation.
“A Franciscan friar of the Bosnian province,” he writes,
November 23rd, 1825, “who has been learning Turkish with me
for the purposes of his mission in Bosnia, being on his way
to Modena, has called to inquire whether I have any occasion
to write to that city. The remorse which I feel at not having
written to you for so long a time, makes it impossible for me
to give a denial; and I write this letter, into which I wish
I could crowd all the expressions of gratitude which I owe to
you for your constant and faithful remembrance of one, who,
although he certainly never forgets you, yet rarely gives you,
at least in writing, the smallest evidence of his remembrance.
The truth is that I should only be too happy to do so, and that
it would seem to me but a renewal of the pleasant literary
discussions which we used to hold with one another here. But
unfortunately, I am too much occupied to indulge myself with
this relaxation. I say this, however, only to excuse myself;
for I assure you that I look eagerly for letters from you, and
that it is a great comfort to me to receive one.
As regards those words terminating in _ite_ which are now
commonly used by medical writers, although their formation is
not grammatically exact, and although they do not precisely
correspond with those which were employed by the ancients,
yet as they have now obtained general currency, it would be
hyper-critical and useless to seek to reform them. You may
satisfy grammarians by a brief annotation to show that you do
not overlook what is due to their art—I mean of course Greek
grammarians; for I suppose our own grammarians will perhaps
prefer the termination which has been sanctioned by use, and
which may possibly appear to them less disagreeable. You see
that I am but repeating your own opinion, and if I did not
write sooner to you on the subject, it was because my own
judgment fully agreed with what you had expressed in your
letter.
I congratulate you on the success of your brother’s studies. I
have been much gratified by the learning, the industry, and the
zeal for religion, which he has displayed. Offer him my best
thanks.
Remember me in your prayers: write to me, and believe me
unchangingly yours.”
The same regrets are still more strikingly expressed in the following
letter.
“I have been wishing, for several days past, to write and thank
you heartily for your kindness towards me, but it is only this
day that I have been able to steal a moment for the purpose.
Be assured that I do not forget how patiently you bore with
me, while, in the midst of the thousand distractions to which
I was liable, we were reading together the Greek and Oriental
languages. If I recall to your recollection the manner of my
life at that time, and the ever recurring interruptions of my
studies, it is only for the purpose of letting you see that, as
the same state of things still continues, or rather has been
changed for the worse, I have not time to show my gratitude
for your constant remembrance of me. Still I thank you from my
heart for it.
I have not been able to read much of your Tasso, but I have
observed some readings which appear to me very happy. I told
Count Valdrighi, that I intended to write to you about the
volume which Monsignor Mai has just published, to request
that you, or some others of your friends in Modena, would
take copies of it, as I have some to dispose of. I have since
learned that you are already supplied. I beg, nevertheless,
that you will take some public occasion to recommend it. I
would do so willingly myself, but I cannot find a single free
moment. The library, my professorship, my private lectures, the
examination of books, the visits of strangers, the attendance
on sick or dying foreigners, do not leave me time to breathe.
In all this I possess one singular advantage—the excellent
health with which I am blessed. But on the other hand, I am
losing, or indeed I have already lost, my habit of application;
and now, if I am called from time to time to do anything, I
find myself reduced to the necessity of improvising.
Forgive me, my dear Don Celestino, for entering thus minutely
into my own affairs. Set it down to the account of our
friendship, in the name of which I beg of you to remember me
in your prayers. Continue to write to me as of old; for, in
the midst of my heaviest occupations, I receive your letters
with the greatest pleasure, and find a real enjoyment in them,
and in the reminiscences which they bring with them of the
happiness that I formerly enjoyed in your dear society.
My sister and my nephews present their most cordial greetings.
_Bologna, March, 27, 1826._”
It is about this time that we may date the commencement of that intimacy
between Mezzofanti and Cardinal Cappellari, afterwards Pope Gregory
XVI., which eventually led to Mezzofanti’s removal from Bologna to Rome.
Cappellari, a distinguished monk of the Camaldolese order, was named to
the cardinalate early in 1826; and soon afterwards was placed at the
head of the congregation of the Propaganda. Being himself an orientalist
of considerable eminence, he had long admired the wonderful gifts of
Mezzofanti, and a circumstance occurred soon after his nomination as
prefect of the Propaganda, which led to a correspondence between them,
in reference to an oriental liturgical manuscript on which the opinion
of the great linguist was desired. Cardinal Cappellari forwarded the
MS. to Mezzofanti, who in a short time returned it, not merely with an
explanation, but with a complete Latin translation. The Cardinal was
so grateful for this service, that he wrote to thank the translator,
accompanying his letter with a draft for a hundred doubloons. Mezzofanti,
with a disinterestedness which his notoriously straitened means made
still more honourable, at once wrote to return the draft, with a request
that it should be applied to the purposes of the missions of the
Propaganda.[415]
This appeal from Cardinal Cappellari was not a solitary one. Mezzofanti
was not unfrequently consulted in the same way, sometimes on critical
or bibliographical questions, sometimes as to the character or contents
of a book or MS. in some unknown language. One of his letters to the
abate Cavedoni is a long account of an early Latin version of two of St.
Gregory Nazianzen’s minor spiritual poems, the “Tetrasticha” and the
“Monosticha.” As this letter (although not without interest as being the
only specimen of his critical writings which I have been able to obtain)
would have little attraction for the general reader, and throws but
little light upon the narrative, it is unnecessary to translate it.[416]
There is another letter, however, of nearly the same period, addressed
to his friend count Valdrighi of Modena, on the subject of a MS. in the
Birman language submitted by the count for his examination, which will be
read with more curiosity.
_To Count Mario Valdrighi._
“I have to reproach myself for not being more prompt in my
acknowledgement of your polite letter; or rather I regret the
resolution which I formed of delaying my answer in the hope
of being able to make it more satisfactory; since thus it
has turned out, that while I was only waiting in the hope of
being able to reply with greater accuracy, I have incurred the
suspicion of discourtesy, by delaying to send you the little
information regarding your oriental MS. which I possessed at
the time, and which I regret to say is all that even still I am
possessed of.
Although your MS. is the first in these characters that I
have ever seen, yet I recognized it at once as a MS. written,
or, I should more correctly say, _graven_, in Burmese, the
native language of the kingdom of Ava, and the language also
which is used by all persons of cultivation in the dependent
provinces of that kingdom. I was enabled to recognize the form
of the characters from having once seen the alphabet, which
was printed by the Propaganda, first in 1776, and again in
1787.[417]
As my knowledge in reference to the language when I received
your letter, did not extend any farther, I was unable to give
you any other information regarding your MS. except that it
is composed of that species of palm leaves which they use in
that country, for the purpose of inscribing or engraving their
written characters thereon. The tree, which does not differ
much in appearance from the other species of palm, is said
to live for a hundred years, and then to die as soon as it
has produced its fruit; but perhaps it may be said to live on
by preserving on its leaves the writings which they wish to
transmit to posterity. It is called in Burmese (or Birmese) by
the name of _Ole_.
You will ask what is the character of their writings. The
people are said to be ignorant in the extreme, and even the
class called _Talapuini_, who live together in community in a
sort of Pythagorean college, possess but very little learning.
Their studies are confined to two books, written in a peculiar
character, one entitled _Kammua_, the other _Padinot_.[418]
The Barnabite Fathers also, who founded several churches in
Ava, and preached the gospel with incredible zeal all over
those vast regions, have written in the native language,
several useful books calculated to maintain and increase the
fruit of their apostolic labours. The most remarkable of
them was Mgr. Peristo, who wrote and spoke the language with
great perfection, and whose life has been written by the late
distinguished Father Michael Angelo Griffini.
I was about to write all this to you as soon as I first
received your MS., but I was anxious to be able to tell you
something more; and with this view, I waited for a long time
in the hope of obtaining from Paris, Carey’s Birmese Grammar,
published at Serampore in 1814, and some other books besides;
as such books must necessarily be in existence, now that the
English have added to their Indian possessions a large tract of
the Birmese Empire. But unfortunately, these books either are
not to be had at Paris, or have not been carefully sought for.
Accordingly, after all these months of delay, I return you your
Birmese MS. written on the leaves of the Ole palm. It has most
probably found its way to Italy through some missionary, and
perhaps was written by a missionary. This, however, will likely
be discoverable from the facts which are known as to the place
whence it came.
The information which I am able to give is, you see, very
little compared with what you might have expected, and bears a
still smaller proportion to my desire to oblige you. I should
have wished to translate it all for you, had it been in my
power, if it were only as a means of expressing my gratitude
and my homage to one from whom I receive so many kindnesses,
and to whom I am indebted for so many charming books, either
composed or illustrated by himself. For all these favours it
only remains for me to offer you my most unbounded thanks. I
trust that, if you should chance to honour me again with any
commission, I shall be able to execute it more successfully,
or at all events more satisfactorily. I will at least promise
not to delay as I have now done, in the hope of obtaining more
information; but, relying that your kindness will lead you to
accept what little explanation I shall be able to afford from
myself, I will at least endeavour to show my anxious wish to
oblige by the promptness of my reply.”
Neither Carey’s Birman Grammar, nor any other modern book on the subject,
appears in the catalogue of Mezzofanti’s library. It comprises, however,
a few Birman books, amongst which are the two alphabets referred to in
the above letter, a translation of Bellarmine’s “Doctrina Christiana,”
and an “Explanation of the Catechism for the use of the Birmese.” These
books (all printed at the Propaganda press) appear to have been procured
after his removal to Rome, where by private study and by intercourse with
a few Birmese students in the Propaganda, he acquired the language, as we
shall see, sufficiently for the purposes of conversation.