Chapter XI: 1834

It may perhaps be convenient to interrupt the narrative at this point, for the purpose of bringing together a number of miscellaneous reports regarding certain languages of minor note ascribed to Mezzofanti, which, through the kindness of many friends, have come into my hands. I shall select those languages especially, respecting his acquaintance with which some controversy has arisen. As my principal object in collecting these reports has simply been to obtain a body of trustworthy materials, whereupon to found an estimate of the real extent of the great linguist’s attainments, I shall not consider it necessary here to follow any exact philological arrangement; but shall present the notices of the several languages, as nearly as possible in the order of the years to which they belong, reserving for a later time the general summary of the results.

I shall commence with a language to which some allusions have been made already—the Welsh.

Mr. Watts, in his admirable paper so often cited, has recorded it, as the opinion of Mr. Thomas Ellis of the British Museum—“a Welsh gentleman, who saw Mezzofanti more than once in his later years—that he was unable to keep up, or even understand, a conversation in the language of the Cymry.”[448] It is difficult to reconcile this statement with the positive assertion of Mr. Harford, which we have seen in a former page;—that, even as early as 1817, he himself “heard Mezzofanti speak Welsh.” It might perhaps be suggested, as a solution of the difficulty, that in the long interval between Mr. Harford’s visit, and that of Mr. Ellis, Mezzofanti’s memory, tenacious as it was, had failed in this one particular; but, about the period to which we have now arrived, there are other witnesses who are quite as explicit as Mr. Harford.

Early in the year 1834, Dr. Forster, an English gentleman who has resided much abroad, and who (although, from the circumstance of his books being privately printed, little known to the English public) is the author of several curious and interesting works, visited Mezzofanti in the Vatican Library.

“To-day,” (May 14, 1834) he writes in a work entitled _Annales
d’un Physicien Voyageur_, “I visited Signor Mezzofanti,
celebrated for his knowledge of more than forty ancient and
modern languages. He is secretary of the Vatican—a small man
with an air of great intelligence, and with the organs of
language highly developed in his face. We talked a great deal
about philology, and he told me many interesting anecdotes of
his manner of learning different languages. As I was myself
acquainted with ten languages, I wished to test the ability of
this eminent linguist; and therefore proposed that we should
leave Italian for the moment, and amuse ourselves by speaking
different other languages. Having spoken in French, English,
Spanish, Portuguese, German, and Dutch, I said at last:—

‘My friend, I have almost run out my stock of modern languages,
except some which you probably do not know.’

‘Well,’ said he, ‘the dead languages, Latin and Greek, are
matters which every one learns, and which every educated man is
familiar with. We shall not mind them. But pray tell me what
others you speak.’

‘I speak a little Welsh,’ I replied.

‘Good,’ said he, ‘I also know Welsh.’ And he began to talk
to me at once, like a Welsh peasant. He knew also the other
varieties of Celtic, Gælic, Irish, and Bas-Breton.”[449]

Some time after the visit of Mr. Harford, too, but before Mezzofanti had left Bologna, when Dr. Baines, then Vicar Apostolic of the Western District of England, (in which Wales was included,) was passing through that city, the abate, concluding (erroneously, as Dr. Baines had the mortification to confess,) that the bishop of Wales must necessarily be an authority upon its language, came to him with a Welsh Bible, to ask his assistance on some points connected with the pronunciation, being already acquainted with the language itself.[450]

Another of his visitors, while at Bologna, has put on record a testimony to the same effect, which, although it does not expressly allude to Mezzofanti’s speaking the language, yet evidently supposes his acquaintance with it, and which moreover is interesting for its own sake. I allude to Dr. W. F. Edwards, of Paris, author of an able and curious essay addressed to the historian, Amedée Thierry, “On the Physiological Characters of the Races of Man, in their Relation to History.” In this essay, while combating the popular notion, that in England the ancient British race has been completely displaced by the various northern conquerors who have overrun the country, Dr. Edwards alleges in support of his own work, which he heard expressed by Mezzofanti, and which, although founded on purely philological principles,[451] he regards as a singular confirmation of his own physiological deductions.

“I owe,” he says, “to the celebrated Mezzofanti, whom I had
the pleasure of meeting at Bologna, an example of what I have
been urging; and I am glad to repeat it here for more reasons
than one. You will see in it a further confirmation of the
conclusion regarding the Britons of England, which I have
deduced from sources of a very different kind. If there is
any characteristic which distinguishes English from the other
modern languages of Europe, it is the extreme irregularity
of its pronunciation. In other languages, when you have once
mastered the fundamental sounds, you are enabled, by the aid of
certain general rules, to pronounce the words with a tolerable
approach to accuracy, even without understanding the meaning.
In English you can never pronounce until you have actually
learned the language. Mezzofanti, in speaking to me of Welsh,
traced to that language the origin of this peculiarity of the
English. I had no necessity to ask him through what channel. I
knew, as well as he, that the English could not have borrowed
from the Welsh; and that, before the Saxon invasion, the
Britons had spoken the same language which afterwards became
peculiar to Wales. Thus of his own accord and without my
seeking for it, he gave me a new proof, entirely independent of
the reasons which had already led me to the conviction that,
despite the Saxon conquest, the Britons had never ceased to
exist in England. They had for centuries been deemed extinct;
and yet he recognises their descendants, so to speak, by the
sound of their voice, as I have recognised them by their
features! What more is needed to establish the identity?”

In the marked conflict between these testimonies and the strong adverse opinion expressed by Mr. Ellis, “that the Cardinal was unable to keep up or even understand a conversation in the language of the Cymry,” nay that “he could not even read an ordinary book with facility,” I have had inquiries made through several Welsh friends, the result of which, coupled with the authorities already cited, satisfies me that Mr. Ellis was certainly mistaken in his judgment. The belief that Mezzofanti knew and spoke Welsh appears to be universal. Mr. Rhys Powel, a Welsh gentleman who was personally acquainted with him, often heard that he understood Welsh, and I have received a similar assurance from a Welsh clergyman of my acquaintance. Mr. Rhys Powel, mentions the name of the late Mr. Williams of Aberpergwin, as having “actually conversed with the Cardinal in Welsh,” during a visit to Rome some time before his eminence’s death; and a short composition of his in that language, which I submitted to two eminent Welsh scholars, is pronounced by them not only correct, but idiomatic in its structure and phraseology.

With such a number of witnesses, entirely independent of each other, and spread over so long a period, attesting Mezzofanti’s knowledge of Welsh, I can hardly hesitate to conclude that Mr. Ellis’s impression to the contrary must have arisen from some accidental misunderstanding, or perhaps from one of those casual failures from which even the most perfect are not altogether exempt. The concluding paragraph of Dr. Edward’s notice is interesting, although upon a different ground.

“It is to be regretted,” he adds, “that a man who surpasses all
others by his prodigious knowledge of languages, should content
himself with what is but an evidence of his own learning, and
should conceal from the world the science upon which that
learning is founded. It is not to his prodigious memory and
the, so to say, inborn aptitude of his mind for retaining words
and their combinations, that he owes the facility with which he
masters all languages, but to his eminently analytical mind,
which rapidly penetrates their genius and makes it its own. I
collect from himself that he studies languages, rather through
their spirit than through their letter. What do we know of the
spirit of languages? Almost nothing. But if Mezzofanti would
communicate to the world the fruit of his observations, we
should see a new science arise amongst us.”[452]

It will be recollected that Flemish was one of the minor languages which he acquired during his residence at Bologna. From the time of his settling at Rome, his opportunities of practice in this and the kindred dialect of Holland, were almost of daily occurrence. One of the earliest appears to have been afforded by his intercourse with a young student of the Germanic College, the abbé Malou, since one of the most distinguished of the Catholic literatî of Belgium,[453] for several years Professor of Scripture in the University of Louvain, and now Bishop of Bruges. Monseigneur Malou has been good enough to note down for me his recollections of his intercourse with Mezzofanti, in so far as they relate to his native language.

“During my stay in Rome (1831-35), I conversed several times
in Flemish with Cardinal Mezzofanti, and I was thus enabled
to ascertain that he understood our language thoroughly. He
spoke to me of the works of Cats and Vondel, two distinguished
Flemish poets, which he had read. Nevertheless, I fancied that
I perceived his vocabulary to be rather limited. He often
repeated the same words and phrases. He spoke with a Brabant
accent, for he had learned Flemish from some young men of
Brussels, who studied at the University of Bologna, in which
his Eminence was at that time Librarian. Monsignor Mezzofanti,
after I had spoken, remarked of himself, that I, being a
Fleming, did not speak as they do in Brabant; and hence he
had a difficulty in catching some of my expressions, which he
requested me to repeat. It is, therefore, not quite correct to
say, that he knew our different dialects; but, if he had had
occasion to learn them, he could, without doubt, have done so
with great ease.

Some days before my departure from Rome, in May, 1835, I met
this learned dignitary in the sacristy of S. Peter’s. He at
once accosted me in Flemish; and, when I had replied, he
upbraided me with having forgotten my mother tongue, for I
mixed up with it, he said, some German words. The reproach
was well founded: for I had passed about three years in the
German College, where I had learned a little German, and had
had meanwhile no occasion to speak Flemish. Such a reproof from
an Italian, who thus gave lessons in Flemish to a Fleming,
struck me as exceeding droll, and amused me not a little. This
anecdote shows what minute attention the learned Cardinal paid
to the boundary lines of kindred tongues.

I have heard Mezzofanti, in the course of one evening, speaking
Italian, English, German, Flemish, Russian, French, and the
Sicilian and Neapolitan dialects of Italian.”[454]

This poverty of his Flemish vocabulary, however, disappeared with practice. Another learned Belgian ecclesiastic, Monsignor Aerts, who subsequently to the sojourn of M. Malou in Rome, resided there for many years, as Rector of the Belgian College, reports as follows of Mezzofanti’s Flemish, such as he found it in 1837 and the following year.

“I was intimately acquainted with Cardinal Mezzofanti, during
my sojourn in Rome; that is to say, from 1837 to the moment of
his death. I saw him frequently. After the establishment in
Rome of the Belgian Ecclesiastical College, of which I was the
first President, and he the Patron, I had still more frequent
relations with his eminence. I spoke to him several times in
each month. Part of our conversation always took place in
Flemish. I can assure you that he never had to look for a word,
and that he spoke our language most freely, and with a purity
of expression and pronunciation not always to be met with among
our own countrymen. One day that I was admitted along with the
Cardinal, to an audience of the Pope Gregory XVI., during his
hour of recreation, His Holiness expressed a desire to hear
him speaking Flemish with me. We then began a little discussion
about the relative difficulty of German and Flemish. His
Eminence thought Flemish the harder of the two. The Pope called
him ‘a living Pentecost.’ He also wrote Flemish poetry: and
one day he gave me several verses of his own composition, to
send in token of remembrance to a young gentleman from Bruges
whom he had confirmed at Rome. Mezzofanti not only knew the
language itself thoroughly, but he was moreover acquainted with
its history and with the principal Flemish and Dutch authors.
I heard him speak of the works of Vondel, Cats, David, &c. He
spoke and pronounced Dutch equally well. He said, however,
that, the modern Hollanders had changed the language by
approximating to the German. He knew, also, some of the local
dialects of Flemish, especially that of Brussels. He could
even distinguish the inhabitants of Brussels by their accent,
of which I have more than once been witness. When he saw a
Fleming, he always saluted him in his own tongue; as he indeed
did with all foreigners.

In 1838, Cardinal Sterckx, Archbishop of Malines, paid a
visit to Rome, and I had the honour of being present during
several conversations which he held in Flemish with Cardinal
Mezzofanti. The latter once took a fancy to have a little
Flemish conversation with his colleague, in a consistory which
the Pope held at this time: and he himself playfully remarked
that probably that was the first time, since the origin of
the Church, that two cardinals had talked Flemish in a papal
consistory. Cardinal Sterckx told me this anecdote the same
day.”

The complete success with which he overcame the deficiency that M. Malou had observed in 1831, and the curious mastery of the various dialects which his singularly exquisite perception of the minutest peculiarities of language enabled him to acquire, are attested by another witness of the same period, Father Van Calven of the same city.

“On the 6th February, 1841,” he writes, “the Cardinal, who was
no less kind and affable than learned, administered the first
communion to my cousin, Leo van Oockerout, who was then with
his friends in Rome. Being a Belgian, a friend, and a relative,
I was invited to be present at the ceremony, which took place
in the Church of S. Peter, over the tomb of SS. Peter and
Paul. Cardinal Mezzofanti celebrated the Holy Sacrifice; and
after the Gospel, or perhaps immediately before the child’s
communion, he made a little discourse in French, in reference
to the beautiful occasion which had drawn us together. This
little discourse, which was very simple, was in excellent
French. After the ceremony was over, he called us all into
the sacristy, and there we had a conversation in Flemish. His
eminence distinguished the different dialects of our Belgian
provinces perfectly. Thus I remember distinctly that he said to
us: ‘I learned Flemish from a native of Brabant, and this is
the way I pronounce the word; but, you from Flanders, pronounce
it thus.’—I forget what was the word about which there was
question; but at any rate, the Cardinal was quite correct in
his observation.”

The same curiously delicate power of “discriminating the various dialects of the language, and of distinguishing by their accents, the inhabitants of the various provinces of Belgium,” are attested by another member of the same society, Father Legrelle. On the eve of this gentleman’s return to Belgium, he asked the Cardinal to be so good as to write his name in his _Album de Voyage_. On the very instant, and in F. Legrelle’s presence, his Eminence penned these Flemish verses, which he gave to M. Legrelle as a souvenir:—

God wept, en wyst den weg tot de volkomenheid;
Hoort zyne stem, myn Vriend, de stemme der waerheid.[455]

One of M. Legrelle’s companions, M. Leon Wilde, a native of Holland, and now a member of the Jesuit Society at Katwick, bears the same testimony to the facility and elegance with which the Cardinal spoke Dutch. M. Wilde also mentions his having written some verses in that language. But a “Tour to Rome”[456] by a Dutch professor, Dr. Wap, published at Breda, in 1839, contains so full and so interesting a notice of the great linguist, in reference to this department of his accomplishment, that, without referring further to M. Wilde’s letter, I shall content myself with translating the most important passages of Dr. Wap’s account of his visit. The author, then a professor in the military college of Breda, is now resident at Utrecht.

“Joseph Mezzofanti,” he writes, “is at present[457] in his
sixty-fifth year. He is of a slight figure, pale complexion,
black hair which is beginning to turn gray, a piercing eye,
quick utterance, and an air full of good humour, but not very
intellectual, so that one would hardly expect to discover
faculties so extraordinary under such an exterior. The first
time I saw him was in the Vatican library, in the large hall
which is furnished with tables, for the accommodation of those
who wish to read or to take notes. He was busy distributing
books, and at the same time was talking to an English lady
accompanied by some English gentlemen. I afterwards spent an
hour or two with this family, and learned that Mezzofanti had
written in the lady’s album four very graceful English lines,
regarding America, whence she had come, and Vienna, where
she was going to reside. As soon as the librarian noticed
any foreigner, he at once began a conversation with him, and
carried it on, no matter what might be the stranger’s idiom.
Prince Michael of Russia was amazed at the ease and volubility
with which Mezzofanti spoke the Polish language. He accosted
me in English, which has in some measure become indigenous to
Rome: but, finding I was from Holland, he at once continued
the conversation in the _Brussels_ dialect (as he called it,)
and told me how scanty the means were of which he had been
able to avail himself in the study of Flemish. These were: a
Flemish grammar; two authors, (Bolhuis and Ten Kate,) with
whom he was acquainted; and finally, Vondel and Cats, whom
he had carefully read. He had never seen any of Bilderdyk’s
works, and he inquired whether this scholar had not introduced
a dialect into the Dutch language. When I had given him the
necessary information, and told him that Bilderdyk, besides
a hundred other works, had written a book on the characters
of the Alphabet, another on the Gender of Substantives, and
three volumes on their roots, his delight was extreme, and he
expressed a great desire to possess these works. I undertook
to send them to him, and I took care to redeem my promise,
as soon as I returned home.[458] After this interview, I did
not presume to manifest my earnest desire for any further
interviews with him: but Mezzofanti anticipated my wishes, and
invited me to come and see him at the Propaganda, as often as
I liked. There it is that he spends some hours, every evening,
among the students, talking with each in his own tongue. I took
advantage of his kind proposal, and had thus an opportunity of
getting a nearer view of this college of the Propaganda....

Nowhere will one find so many resources for amassing treasures
of knowledge united together, as in the vast college of the
Propaganda....

Here are assembled a hundred and fourteen students from
forty-one different countries. At my request, the Rector caused
the Pater Noster to be written by sixteen foreign students in
their respective languages. Here, in the evening, in the midst
of these various nations, I met Mezzofanti, who seemed to
belong to each of them. He spoke Chinese with Leang of Canton,
as easily as he spoke Dutch with Mr. Steenhof[459] of Utrecht.
I will never forget the instructive hours which I spent there.
The natural frankness of Mezzofanti, his free and communicative
conversation, his easy tone, his gay disposition, all rendered
my farewell visit, which I twice repeated, very painful to me.

Amidst so many grave employments, Mezzofanti goes twice each
week to the house of the orphans, to teach them the catechism,
and to the barracks of the Swiss soldiers to instruct them in
the principles of religion. The library requires his care twice
in the week, for several hours in the morning; in the afternoon
he gives lessons to the pupils of the Propaganda, whose studies
he superintends; to his care are confided the public discourses
delivered on the Epiphany: almost all foreigners come to visit
him; in fine, he pays his visits in his humble equipage, and
attends at the Pope’s court when pressing affairs requires his
presence; and, notwithstanding many duties and occupations, he
still finds time to assist at the divine offices. Who will not
feel profound respect and sincere admiration for such a man?

I will here subjoin some lines which I wrote _extempore_ in
Mezzofanti’s album, together with his immediate reply.

‘Wie ooit de Pinkstergaaf in twijfel durfde trekken.
Sta hier beschaamd, verplet voor Mezzofanti’s geest,
Hij eere in hem den man, die de aard ten tolk kan strekken.
Wiens brien in ’t taalgeheim van alle volken leest.
Aanvaard, ô Telg van’t Zuid, den eerbiedgroet van’t Noorden,
Maar denk, terwijl nu oog mijn nietig schrift beziet,
Al mist der Batten spraak Italjes zang akkoorden,
Hun tongval of hun ziel leent zich tot vleijen niet.’

My veritable impromptu instantly called forth this beautiful
answer from Mezzofanti:—

‘Mynheer! als uw fraaj schrift kwam heden voor mijne oogen,
Door Uw’ goedaardigheid was ikheel opgetogen,
En zooveel in mijn geest zooveel in’t hart opklom,
Dat mijne tong verbleef med vijftig taalen stom.
Nu, opdat ik niet schijn U een ondankbaar wezen,
Bid ik U in mijn hart alleen te willen lezen.[460]

Joseph Mezzofanti.

_Rome, den 17 April, 1837._’

After writing these lines, he asked me if there were any
mistakes in them, and, if so, if I would be good enough to
point them out to him. I then noticed the word _fraaj_ in the
first line, knowing he would reply that the letter _i_ at
the end of a word should be replaced by a _j_. The _aa_ in
_taalen_, in the fourth line, he justified by a reference to
the Flemish grammar which he used at the time. As for the _d_
in the preposition _med_, which occurs in the same line, he
contended that this was the proper orthography of the word, as
it was an abbreviation of _mede_. I would have been greatly
surprised at all this, if I had not previously had occasion
to admire the delicate ear which this giant of linguistic
learning possessed for the subtleties of pronunciation, and the
wonderful perspicacity of his orthographical system: especially
as he had expressed to me his just disapprobation of the
foreign words which some of our countrymen are letting slip
into their conversation. He had already given proof to another
traveller from Holland that he was perfectly acquainted with
the difference between the words _nimmer_ and _nooit_, so that
he hardly ever used one for the other.”

Side by side with the Dutch traveller’s sketch, may be placed a still more lively account of Mezzofanti by another visitor of the Vatican, the poet Frankl, a Bohemian by birth, but chiefly known by his German writings. This sketch, besides the allusion to Mezzofanti’s skill in the poet’s native language, Bohemian, contains a slight, but not uninteresting specimen of Mezzofanti’s German vocabulary, and, moreover, illustrates very curiously the attention which he seems always to have given to the general principles of harmony, and his acquaintance with the metrical capabilities of more than one ancient and modern language. The Signor Luzatto, to whose introductory letter Frankl refers, was a friend of Mezzofanti—a distinguished Italian Jew—himself an accomplished linguist, and well known to oriental scholars by his contributions to the _Archives Israelites_, and by a work on the Babylonian Inscriptions.

“Having furnished myself,” writes Herr Frankl, “with a letter
of introduction from Luzatto of Padua, I went to the Vatican
Library, of which Mezzofanti was the head. His arrival was
looked for every moment; and I occupied the interval by
examining the long, well lighted gallery of antiquities which
is outside, and which also leads into the halls that contain
the masterpieces of ancient art in marble. I was in the act of
reading the inscription upon one of the many marble slabs which
are inserted in the wall, when a stranger who, except myself,
was the sole occupant of the gallery, said to me; ‘Here comes
Monsignor Mezzofanti!’

An undersized man, somewhat disposed towards corpulency, in a
violet cassock falling to the ancle, and a white surplice which
reached to the knee, came briskly, almost hurriedly, towards
us. He carried his four-cornered violet cap in his hand, and
thus I was better able to note his lively, though not striking
features, and his grey hair still mingled with black. About his
lips played a smile, which I afterwards observed to be their
habitual expression. He appeared to be not far from sixty. When
he came sufficiently near, I advanced to meet him with a silent
bow, and he at once received me with the greeting in German,
‘_Seyn Sie mir willkommen!_’ (‘You are welcome.’)

‘I am surprised, Monsignor,’ I replied, ‘that you address me
in German, although I have not spoken a word as yet.’ ‘Oh,’
said he, ‘a great many foreigners of all countries come to
visit me, and I have acquired a certain routine—pardon me, I
should have said a certain ‘knack,’ (die Routine—verzeihen
sie, ‘die gewandtheit’ sollte ich sagen,—) of discovering
their nationality from their physiognomy, or rather from their
features.’

‘I am sorry, Monsignor,’ I replied, ‘that it is my ill fortune
to belie this knack of yours. I am a native of Bohemia,
although not of Bohemian race, and Bohemian is my mother
tongue.’

‘To what nationality, then, do you belong?’ asked Mezzofanti in
Bohemian, without a moment’s hesitation.”

He afterwards changed the language to Hebrew.

Frankl adds, that on a second visit to the reading room of the Vatican, he found the gay animated Monsignor in the ordinary black dress of a priest; and took this opportunity to present him a copy of his “Colombo,” in which he had written the inscription, “_Dem Sprachen-chamæleon Mezzofanti._” (“To Mezzofanti, the Chameleon of language”.)

“‘Ha,’ said Mezzofanti, with a smile, ‘I have had numberless
compliments paid me; but this is a spick and span new one,’
(funkelnagel-neu.)

Upon this word he laid a special emphasis, as if to call my
attention to his well known familiarity with unusual words.

‘I see,’ he continued, ‘you have adopted the Italian form of
cantos and stanzas.’

‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘the Germans nowadays, for the most part, do
homage to the Italian forms.’

‘At last!’ said he, with a smile not unmixed with triumph.

‘Schlegel, Bürger, and Platen,’ I said, ‘have written sonnets
quite as harmonious as Petrarch’s, and Tasso’s stanza has found
its rival among the Germans.’

‘Well, at all events,’ replied Mezzofanti, ‘the Germans have
not succeeded in hexameters. Klopstock’s are incorrect and
inharmonious. What harmony is there in the line:—

‘Sing, unsterbliche Seele, des sündigen Menschen Erlösung!’
Where is the cæsura—speaking to you, I should say,
_abschnitt_—in this line? Voss, it is true, wrote correctly;
and yet an Italian will hang down his chin whenever Voss’s
hexameters are read. As for Goethe, what sort of poetry is his?
You know his elegies—for example, the hexameter which ends

——‘blaustrumpf und violet strumpf!’[461]

Surely he must have taken the Germans for a hard-hearted
nation!’

I quoted for him the burlesque couplet which was composed in
ridicule of Schiller’s and Goethe’s distichs.

‘In Weimar und Jenam acht man Hexameter wie den,
Und die Pentameter sind noch erbärmlicher.’

He repeated it at once after me, and seemed to wish to impress
it on his mind.

‘Do you know,’ he pursued, ‘what language I place before all
others, next to Greek and Italian, for constructive capability
and rhythmical harmoniousness?—The Hungarian. I know some
pieces of the later poets of Hungary, the melody of which
took me completely by surprise. Mark its future history, and
you will see in it a sudden outburst of poetic genius, which
will fully confirm my prediction. The Hungarians themselves
do not seem to be aware what a treasure they have in their
language.’[462]

‘It would be in the highest degree interesting,’ said I,
‘if you would draw up a comparative sketch of the metrical
capabilities of all the various languages that you speak. Who
is there that could speak on the subject with more authority?’

He received my suggestion with a smile, but made no reply.
He seems, indeed, to content himself with the glory of being
handed down to posterity as the Crœsus of languages, without
leaving to them the slightest permanent fruit of his immense
treasures of science.”[463]

Among these less commonly cultivated languages, I may also class Maltese. In this Mezzofanti was equally at home. As Maltese can scarcely be said to possess anything like a literature,[464] it may be presumed that he acquired it chiefly by oral instruction, partly from occasional visitors to Rome, partly from some Maltese servants who were in the Propaganda at the time of his arrival. This much at least is certain, that, in the year 1840, he spoke the language freely and familiarly. Father Andrew Schembri, of La Valetta, during a residence in Rome in that year, having conducted the preparatory spiritual exercises for a number of youths to whom the Cardinal administered the first communion in the church of San Vito, met his Eminence at breakfast in the convent attached to this church. No sooner was Father Schembri presented to him as a Maltese, than he entered into conversation with him in his own language.[465] Another Maltese ecclesiastic, Canon Falzou of the cathedral, met the Cardinal in Rome at a later date, in 1845-6. In the course of his sojourn he “had frequent opportunities, for a period of eleven months, of conversing with him in Maltese, which he spoke very well.”[466]

I need scarcely observe that, although in the capital and the principal towns of Malta, the prevailing language is Italian, the dialect spoken by the rural population contains a large admixture of foreign elements, chiefly Arabic and Greek. To what a degree the former language enters into the composition of Maltese, may be inferred from the well-known literary imposture of Vella, who attempted to pass off a forgery of his own as an Arabic history of Sicily under the Arabs.[467]

Before closing this chapter, I shall add a short note of the Count de Lavradio, Portuguese ambassador in London, and brother of the Marquis de Lavradio, who for many years held the same office in Rome. It regards Mezzofanti’s acquaintance with Portuguese, another language which very few foreigners take the trouble to acquire.

“I have always heard,” writes his excellency, “both from my
brother and from other learned Portuguese who knew Cardinal
Mezzofanti, that he was perfectly conversant with the
Portuguese language, and that he spoke it with facility and
with elegance. I myself have read letters written by him in
excellent Portuguese; particularly one very remarkable one,
addressed by him to the learned M. de Souza, for the purpose of
conveying his thanks for the offer which M. de Souza had made
to him, of a copy of the magnificent edition of Camoens, which
he had published in 1817.”

The Marquis de Lavradio here referred to, while ambassador at Rome, expressed the same opinion to Cardinal Wiseman. The Marquis, in Mezzofanti’s Portuguese, was particularly struck by the precision of his language and the completeness of his mastery over even the delicate forms of conversational phraseology. He instanced in particular one of his letters. It was perfect, he said, not only in vocabulary but in form, even down to the minutest phrases of conventional compliment and formal courtesy.