[1834-1836.]
I resume the narrative.
The Librarian of the Vatican, or as he is more properly called the
“Librarian of the Roman Church,” (_Bibliotecario della Chiesa Romana_,)
is always a Cardinal, commonly the Cardinal Secretary of State. His
duties as such, however, are in great measure nominal; and the details
of the management practically rest with the _Primo Custode_, or chief
keeper of the Library, who is assisted by a second keeper, and seven
_scrittori_, or secretaries, among whom are distributed the seven
departments,—Hebrew, Syriac, Arabic, Greek, Latin, Italian, and modern
foreign languages—into which the books are classified.
The Cardinal Librarian at the time of Mezzofanti’s appointment was
Cardinal Della Somaglia, who had been Secretary of State under the Popes
Leo XII. and Pius VIII.; and who, although, owing to his great age, he
had retired from the more active office of Secretary, still retained that
of Librarian of the Vatican. Mezzofanti’s colleague as _Secondo Custode_,
was Monsignor Andrea Molza, an orientalist of high reputation, and
Professor of Hebrew in the Roman University.
Attached to the Basilica of St. Peter’s, and subject to the chapter of
that church, is a college for the education of ecclesiastics, (popularly
called _Pietrini_,) whose striking and picturesque costume seldom fails
to attract the notice of strangers. The Rector of this college is always
a member of the chapter, and is elected by the canons themselves from
among their number. Immediately upon his nomination by the Pope as member
of the chapter, Mezzofanti was appointed by his brother canons to the
office of Rector of this college, which he continued to hold till his
elevation to the Cardinalate. The office is in great part honorary;
and Mezzofanti, in addition to his gratuitous services, devoted a
considerable part of his income from other sources to the improvement
of the establishment, and especially to the support of many meritorious
students, whose limited means would have excluded them from its
advantages but for his disinterested generosity.
He was also named Consulter of the Sacred Congregation for the correction
of oriental books, and a censor of the academy.
It need hardly be said that, from the moment of his arrival in Rome,
he had been received with warm and ready welcome in every scientific
and literary circle. With Monsignor Mai, both during his residence at
the Vatican and after his removal to the Propaganda, he was on terms of
most friendly intercourse, and the confidant of many of his literary
undertakings. The most distinguished professors of the several schools
of Rome, Graziosi, Fornari, Modena, De Vico, Perrone, Palma, Manera, De
Luca, vied with each other in doing him honour. He was elected into all
the leading literary societies and academies of the city; and soon after
his appointment as Vatican Librarian, he read in the “Academy of the
Catholic Religion,” a paper which attracted much notice at the time: “On
the Services of the Church in promoting the Diffusion of True Knowledge,
and the Development of the Human Mind.”
The Pope, Gregory XVI., himself, a great lover of oriental studies,
received him into his most cordial intimacy. In the one brief hour of
recreation which this great and zealous pontiff, who retained even in the
Vatican the spirit and the observances of the cloister, allowed himself
after dinner, Mezzofanti was his frequent companion. The privilege of
entrée was open to him at all times; but it was specially understood that
at this more private and informal hour, when the Pope loved to see his
most cherished friends around him, Mezzofanti should present himself at
least once every week.
In like manner his early friend, Giustiniani, also an accomplished
oriental scholar, lost no time, on Mezzofanti’s coming to Rome, in
resuming with him the intimate friendship which they had contracted
during his Eminence’s residence at Bologna, as Cardinal Legate.
Mezzofanti used to spend every Wednesday evening with Cardinal
Giustiniani; and on one occasion, when Dr. Wiseman called at the
Cardinal’s, he found them reading Arabic together. He met with equal
kindness from the Cardinal Secretary, Bernetti, and from Cardinal
Albani, who had both known him at Bologna. The venerable old Cardinal
Pacca, too, took especial delight in his company. He was a constant
guest at the literary assemblies in the palace of Cardinal Zurla,
known to general readers as the historian of Marco Polo and the early
Venetian travellers.[468] On Pentecost Sunday, 1834, the anniversary
of the Feast of Tongues, the Cardinal gave a dinner in honour of the
great Polyglot, at which many foreigners (one of whom was the present
Cardinal Wiseman) speaking a great variety of languages, and all the most
distinguished linguists of Rome, were present. Each of the guests carried
away a feeling of wonder, almost as though his own language had been
the only subject of Mezzofanti’s extraordinary display. Signor Drach,
the learned Jew, named in a former page,[469] declared that he had not
thought it possible for any but a born Hebrew to speak both Scriptural
and Rabbinical Hebrew with the fluency and correctness which Mezzofanti
was able to command. A Polish priest named Ozarowski,[470] who sat next
to Mezzofanti, assured the late Dr. Cox, of Southampton, that, had he
not known Mezzofanti personally, he would, from his conversation, have
believed him to be a highly educated Pole; and he added that, “foreigner
as this great linguist was, his familiarity with Polish literature
and history completely threw his own into the shade.” Nor was this
extraordinary faculty confined to the literature and language alone. A
Polish lady was so astonished, not only at his knowledge of the language,
but at his “acquaintance with the country, and even with individuals,
(for many of whom he inquired by name, describing where they lived, what
was their occupation, &c.,”) that, as she assured Cardinal Wiseman, she
“could not believe that he had not resided, or at least travelled, in
Poland.”
* * * * *
The exact number of languages to which this extraordinary facility
extended, had long been a matter of speculation. Mezzofanti
himself—averse to everything that bore the appearance of display—although
repeatedly questioned on the subject, generally evaded the inquiry, or
passed it off with a jesting answer. It is probable too, that he was
deterred from any enumeration by the difficulty of distinguishing between
languages properly so-called, and dialects. The first distinct statement
of his own, bearing directly upon the point, which I have been able to
trace on good authority to himself, was made soon after his appointment
as Vatican Librarian, in an interview with a gentleman of Italian family,
long resident in England, who was introduced to him by Dr. Cox, at that
time vice-rector of the English College. The particulars of the interview
were communicated to me by Dr. Cox himself, in a letter which I received
from him a very short time before his death. The gentleman referred
to was Count Mazzinghi, the well known composer, who, if not born in
England, had resided in London for so long a time, that in language,
habits, and associations, he was a thorough Englishman.
“On one occasion,” says Dr. Cox, “when going to the Vatican
Library to visit Mezzofanti, I took with me an English family,
who were most desirous of being introduced to him. Mezzofanti
remonstrated good-humouredly with me for bringing people to see
him, as if he were worthy of being visited, but he received our
party with his habitual politeness.
The gentleman whom I introduced, begged as a favour that he
would tell him how many languages he could speak. ‘I have
heard many different accounts,’ he said, ‘but will you tell me
yourself?’
After some hesitation, Mezzofanti answered, ‘Well! if you must
know, I speak forty-five languages.’
‘Forty-five!’ replied my friend. ‘How, sir, have you possibly
contrived to acquire so many?’
‘I cannot explain it,’ said Mezzofanti. ‘Of course God has
given me this peculiar power: but if you wish to know how I
preserve these languages, I can only say, that, when once I
hear the meaning of a word in any language, I never forget it.’
He then begged us to excuse him, and called one of the
librarians to show us the principal curiosities of the library.
On our return, we found him seated with a young German artist,
who, he told us, was going to Constantinople. ‘I am teaching
him Turkish before he goes,’ he continued, ‘and as he speaks
modern Greek very well, I use that language as the means of my
instruction. I had the honour,’ he subjoined, ‘of giving some
lessons on modern Greek to your poet, Lord Byron, when he was
in Bologna.’
“I should add,” said Dr. Cox “that I frequently heard him
speak of Byron, and that his criticisms upon his works, and
his reflections on the peculiar characteristics of his poetry,
would have been worthy of a place in a Review.”
While he thus professed, however, to speak forty-five languages, he took
care, as in his similar conversation with Dr. Tholuck, to convey that his
knowledge of some of them was much less perfect than of others.
Nor did it remain stationary at this limit. Its progress, even while
he resided at Bologna, had been steady, and tolerably uniform. But the
increased facilities for the study which he enjoyed in Rome, enabled him
to add more rapidly to his store. Cardinal Wiseman assures me, that,
before he left Rome, Mezzofanti’s reply to the inquiry as to the number
of his languages, was that which has since become a sort of proverb,
“Fifty, and Bolognese.” Even as early as 1837, Mezzofanti himself, in his
extempore reply to Dr. Wap’s Dutch verses, as we have seen, used words to
the same effect:—
Mijne tong verbleef med _vijftig taalen_ stom,
I have been anxious to obtain, on this interesting point, an authentic
report from persons who enjoyed almost daily opportunities of intercourse
with Mezzofanti at this period, for the purpose of testing more
satisfactorily, the accuracy of a contemporary sketch of him, which
appeared in a work of considerable pretensions, published in Germany,
in 1837—Fleck’s “Scientific Tour,”—which describes him, from popular
report, as speaking “some thirty languages and dialects, but of course,
not all with equal readiness.” As M. Fleck is in many things, an echo
of the supercilious criticisms of those who, while they admitted in
general terms the marvellous character of Mezzofanti’s talent, contrived,
nevertheless, to depreciate it in detail, it may be well to afford the
reader an opportunity of judging it for himself.[471]
“Of middle size and somewhat stooping in his gait,” writes M.
Fleck, “Mezzofanti’s appearance is nevertheless agreeable and
benevolent. Since he has been Prefect of the Vatican in Mai’s
stead, I have had occasion to see him daily. His talent is
that of a linguist, not that of a philologist. One forenoon in
the Vatican, he spoke modern Greek to a young man who came in,
Hebrew with a rabbi or ‘scrittore’ of the library, Russian with
a magnate who passed through to the manuscript rooms, Latin and
German with me, Danish with a young Danish archæologist who was
present, English with the English,—Italian with many. German he
speaks well, but almost too softly, like a Hamburgher; Latin
he does not speak particularly well, and his English is just
as middling. There is something about him that reminds me of a
parrot—he does not seem to abound in ideas; but his talent is
the more deserving of admiration, that the Italians have great
difficulties to cope with in learning a foreign language. He
will always remain a wonderful phenomenon, if not a miracle in
the dogmatic sense. It is said to have been observed, that he
often repeats the same ideas in conversation. He was entirely
dependant on Mai in his position in the Vatican, especially at
the commencement of his tenure of office, and manifested some
weakness in this respect. He told me he had learned Russian at
Bologna from a Pole, and so had been in danger of introducing
Polonicisms into his Russian. In the French wars, his visits
to the hospitals gave him an excellent opportunity of seeing
and conversing with men of different nations, and the march
of the Austrians made him acquainted with the dialect of the
gipsies. Thrice, he told me, he has been dangerously ill,
and in a kind of ‘confusion of languages.’ He is altogether
a man of a sensitive nervous system, and much more decidedly
and more pusillanimously attached to Catholicism than Mai.
He has never travelled, except to Rome and Naples; and to
Naples he went to study Chinese at the institute for the
education of natives of China as missionaries, and there he
fell dangerously ill. He seeks the society of foreigners
very eagerly, in order to converse with every one in his own
language. As a special favourite of the Pope, he enlivens
his holiness’s after-dinner hours (Verdaungs-stunden), and
is often invited to him in the afternoon: by his manifold
acquirements and the winning urbanity of his manners, he seems
as if born for the society of a court. He has made himself
popular among the learned foreigners who visit the Vatican,
by permitting them to continue their labours in the library
during certain days after the beginning of the holidays, on
which the library had ordinarily been closed with a view to
the adjustment and supervision of the MSS. His predilection
for acquiring foreign idioms is so strong that he observes and
imitates the provincial dialects and accents. He has carried
this so far, that, for example, he can distinguish the Hamburgh
and Hanoverian German very well. Even of Wendish he is not
ignorant. This is, indeed, a gift of no very high order; but
it is a gift nevertheless, and, when exercised in its more
dazzling points of practice, sets one in amazement. Mezzofanti
understands this well. The Italians admire this distinguished
and unassuming man, as the eighth wonder of the world, and
believe his reputation to be not only European, but Asiatic
and African also. He is said to speak some thirty languages
and dialects; but of course not all with equal readiness. The
Persian missionary, Sebastiani, who, in Napoleon’s time, played
an important political part in Persia, was eagerly sought after
by Mezzofanti when in Rome, that he might learn modern Persian
from him; Sebastiani, however, showed himself disinclined to
his society, which pained Mezzofanti much. Mezzofanti has been
called the modern Mithridates, and thought very highly of
altogether. In an intellectual point of view, many learned men,
even Italians, are certainly above him: his reading appears
at times shallow, owing to its having been so scattered, and
it has occurred that he has often repeated the same thing to
strangers; but his great and peculiar linguistic talent, which
seems as it were to spring from some innate sense, cannot be
denied; his good nature and politeness to the students who
frequent the Vatican are very great; and I am therefore unable
to comprehend how Blume (Iter Italicum, 1. 153,) can speak
of the opposite experience of learned travellers during his
residence at Bologna.
Mezzofanti is fond of perpetuating his memory in the albums of
his friends. He wrote in mine:—
Ἔρχεται ἀνθρώποις λαθραίως ἔσχατον ἦμαρ,
Oἱ δὲ περὶ ζωῆς πολλὰ μονοῦσι μάτην.
Χριστέ, σὺ μὲν πάντων ἀρχὴ, σù δὲ καί τέλος ἐσσί;
Ἔν τε σὸι ἐιρήνη ἐστὶ καὶ ἡσυχίη.”[472]
I shall leave the greater part of these strictures, from their very
generality, to be judged by the facts and statements actually recorded
in these pages; merely observing that on all questions which involve the
depth and accuracy of Mezzofanti’s knowledge of particular subjects,
those only are entitled to speak with authority, who, like Bucheron,
Libri, and others elsewhere referred to, took the trouble to test it by
actual inquiry. It will be enough to say that, whenever M. Fleck has
ventured into details, his criticisms are palpably unjust.
For instance, even at Rome, with all its proverbial fastidiousness, the
singular beauty of Mezzofanti’s Latin conversation which Fleck describes
as “not particularly good,” was freely and universally admitted; and
Bucheron, the Piedmontese professor who came to Bologna prepossessed with
the idea that Mezzofanti’s Latin scholarship was meagre and superficial,
was obliged to confess, after a long and searching conversation, that his
acquaintance with the Latin language and literature was as exact as it
was comprehensive.
In like manner M. Fleck takes upon him to pronounce that Mezzofanti’s
English was “just as middling” as his Latin. Now I need hardly recall
the testimonies of Mr. Harford, Stewart Rose, Byron, Lady Morgan, Lady
Blessington, and every other English traveller who conversed with him,
as completely refuting this depreciatory estimate. The truth is, that
most of the English and Irish visitors with whom I have spoken, have
agreed with me in considering that, in his manner of speaking English,
the absence of all foreign peculiarities was so complete as to render it
difficult, in a short conversation, to detect that he was a foreigner.
“One day,” Cardinal Wiseman relates, “Mezzofanti then a prelate, visited
me, and shortly after an Irish gentleman called who had arrived that
moment in Rome. I was called out, and left them together for some time.
On my returning, Mezzofanti took leave. I asked the other who he thought
that gentleman was. He replied, looking surprised at the question, ‘_An
English Priest_, I suppose.’”
On another occasion, about the same period, the late Dr. Baines, Vicar
Apostolic of the Western district, having been present at one of the
polyglot exhibitions in the Propaganda, and having there witnessed the
extraordinary versatility of Mezzofanti’s powers, returned with him after
the exhibition. “We dined together,” said Dr. Baines, “and I entreated
him, having been in the tower of Babel all the morning, to let us stick
to English for the rest of the day. Accordingly, we did stick to English,
which he spoke as fluently as we do, and with the same accuracy, not
only of grammar but of idiom. His only trip was in saying, ‘That was
before the time when I remember,’ instead of ‘before my time.’ Once,
too, I thought him mistaken in the pronunciation of a word. But when
I returned to England, I found that my way was either provincial or
old-fashioned, and that I was wrong and he was right.”[473]
Nor was this fluency in speaking English confined to the ordinary topics
of conversation, or to the more common-place words of the language. His
vocabulary was as extensive and as various as it was select. A curious
example of this, not only as regards English but also in reference to
German, was told to me by Cardinal Wiseman.
One broiling day he and Mr. Monckton Milnes were walking in company with
Mezzofanti across the scorching pavement of the Piazza SS. Apostoli. They
were speaking German at the time.
“Well!” said Mr. Milnes, utterly overcome by the heat and glare, “this
is what you may call a—what is the German,” he added, turning to Dr.
Wiseman, “for ‘_sweltering_?’”
“‘_Schwülig_,’ of course,” suggested Mezzofanti, without a moment’s pause!
I have heard several similar anecdotes illustrating the minuteness of
his acquaintance with other languages; and when it is remembered, that
his stock of words was in great measure drawn from books, and those
generally the classics of their respective languages, it need hardly
be considered matter of surprise, that, as, in English, Lady Morgan
found “his turn of phrase and peculiar selection of words to be those
of the “Spectator,” so other foreigners have been struck by finding an
Italian model his conversational style upon the highest and most refined
standards in their respective literatures. One instance may suffice as
a specimen. Professor Carlson of the university of Upsala, who was for
a considerable time engaged in the Vatican Library, in examining the
papers of Queen Christina, and was thus thrown for weeks into constant
communication with Mezzofanti, assured my friend Mr. Wackerbarth of the
same university, that Mezzofanti spoke the language perfectly—“quite
like a native;” and that not only as regards the words, but also as
regards the accent and rhythm of the language, which is very difficult.
The Swedish and Danish languages are very much alike, though differing
widely in accent and musical character. The Professor declared, that
Mezzofanti was perfectly at home in both, as well as regards their
affinities as their differences. He added, that if there were any fault
to find with Mezzofanti’s speaking of Swedish, it was _perhaps a trifle
too grammatically accurate_: if that can be considered as a fault. This
may perhaps be better understood when explained, that in Swedish the
difference between the spoken and written language, is perhaps more
than in most languages, many words being inflected in the written,
but not in the spoken language. Thus the verb “kan,” (can,) is in the
plural, “kunna;” but in conversation the plural is “kan,” the same
as the singular. Now, from the anecdote already told regarding young
Uttini,[474] it appears that Mezzofanti was almost entirely self-taught
in Swedish; and I infer from the catalogue of his library that his course
of Swedish reading lay exclusively among the purest classics of that
language. I am informed by Mr. Wackerbarth, that Count Oxenstjerna, son
of the classical Swedish translator of Milton and Dante, who conversed
with him at Rome, found him thoroughly familiar with his father’s
works,[475] and in general critically acquainted with all the masters of
Swedish style.
Indeed there is hardly any circumstance connected with this extraordinary
gift more calculated to excite wonder than the extent and accuracy of his
acquaintance with the various literatures of the languages to which he
had applied himself. The fact is attested by so many witnesses that it is
impossible to doubt it. Numerous instances have been already cited; but
I cannot pass from this period of his life without adding a few others,
chiefly regarding oriental languages, taken almost at random from many
independent testimonies which have been communicated to me by persons who
enjoyed his intimacy during the early years of his residence at Rome.
In a commission for the revision of the liturgical books of the Armenian
rite appointed by Pope Gregory XVI., he was associated with a native
Armenian scholar, Father Arsenius Angiarakian, Abbot of the Monastery of
St. Gregory the Illuminator. This learned ecclesiastic, in a letter dated
August 15, 1855, assures me that during the frequent opportunities of
observation which a literary inquiry of such exceeding delicacy afforded,
he was astonished (_ho dovuto stupire_) at the profound knowledge of
the ancient language of Armenia, exhibited by his associate. He adds
that Mezzofanti “spoke the vulgar Armenian with perfect freedom, and in
all its dialects.” Mgr. Hurmuz, the Armenian Archbishop of Sirace, in a
letter of May 24th, in the same year, attests that Mezzofanti’s Armenian
scholarship “was not confined to the knowledge of the language, ancient
and modern; he also knew the history of the Armenian nation, and of
science and art among them, together with their periods of progress and
decay.”
Father Arsenius frequently introduced oriental visitors, especially Turks
and Persians, to Mezzofanti. Ahmed Fethi Pasha, with his Secretary,
Sami Effendi, was presented to him on his way to London in 1836. After
a long interview he declared to Father Arsenius, that “Mezzofanti was
not only perfectly at home in the vocabulary, the structure, and the
pronunciation, both of Turkish and of Persian, but thoroughly and
profoundly versed (_possedeva per eccellenza_) in both literatures—being
master of the great classic prose writers and poets of both, and their
literary history.” He received the same assurances as to both languages,
at various times, from Redschid Pasha, Ali Pasha, Fuad Effendi, and
Shekib Effendi.
A native Syrian whom M. Antoine d’Abbadie met in Rome in 1839, assured
him that “Mezzofanti’s knowledge of Arabic and fluency in speaking it
were both equally admirable.”[476]
Speaking of the literature of Greece, Monsignor Missir, the learned Greek
Archbishop of Irenopolis who has for many years resided at Rome, declares
(in a letter of May 21st, 1855,) his belief that “Mezzofanti was as fully
master of the ancient Greek, as he was of Latin or Italian, and that
there was scarce a Greek author, ancient or modern, sacred or profane,
whom he had not read.” The abate Pietro Matranga,[477] a Greek of Sicily,
and professor of Greek in the Greek College of St. Athanasius, confirms
this impression to a great extent. He states (August 17th, 1855) that “in
examining the students of the Greek College, (as was his custom for many
years) in the classical authors, both the orators and the tragedians,
Mezzofanti never had occasion to take a book into his hands; being able
on the passage being indicated by the professor, to repeat it from
memory.”
A Polish priest named Ozarowski, stated as much for Polish literature to
Dr. Cox.
Nay, even in such an out-of-the-way literature as that of Sicily,
the same abate Matranga assures me that he was equally versed. “He
delighted,” says the abate, “in repeating from memory the poetry of the
Sicilian poet, Giovanni Meli,”[478] a writer who although of the highest
fame among his countrymen, is hardly known even by name outside of his
native island.
I cannot close, however, without saying that I have not found any
evidence of his having being equally familiar with another exceedingly
important literature of the East—the ancient Syriac. Vague statements
I have heard in abundance; but no one to whom I have had access could
speak with certainty; and Signor Matteo Schiahuan, professor of that
language in the Propaganda, considered him but moderately versed therein,
(_una mediocre cognizione_.) This will appear the more difficult of
explanation, as the Syriac department of his catalogue is tolerably
extensive, and is abundantly supplied with at least the elementary books
of that language.