CHAPTER XVI.
[1843-1849.]
In the midst of the honours and occupations of his new dignity, Cardinal Mezzofanti sustained a severe affliction in the death of his favourite nephew, Monsignor Minarelli—the Giuseppino (Joe) so often commemorated in his early correspondence. This amiable and learned ecclesiastic instead of accompanying his uncle to Rome, where the most brilliant prospects were open to him, preferred to pursue the quiet and useful career of university life, in which he had hitherto been associated with him in Bologna. By successive steps, he had risen to the Rectorate of the University; and in recognition of his services to that institution, the honorary dignity of a prelate of the first class in the Roman Court—popularly styled del mantelletto—had been conferred on him by the Pope. The Cardinal, as is plain from his own letters and those of his Bologna friends, was warmly attached to him. While he lived in Bologna Giuseppe was his friend and companion, rather than his pupil; and the young man’s early death was felt the more deeply by him, from the congeniality of tastes and studies which had always subsisted between them.
The Cardinal’s sister, Teresa, (mother of the deceased prelate,) although she was ten years his senior, was still living in their old home at Bologna, and he continued to correspond with her up to the time of his death. His letters to her are all exceedingly simple and unaffected—so entirely of a domestic character, and without public interest, that, if I translate one of them here—the latest which has come into my hands—it is merely as a specimen of the warmth and tenderness, as well as deeply religious character of the Cardinal’s affection for his sister and for her children.
“We are on the eve of your Saint’s Day, my dearest sister. I am to say Mass on that day in the Church of the Servites; but I shall offer it for you, praying with all the fervor of my heart that God may long preserve you in health, and console you under your affliction, and that your holy patroness may protect you, and obtain for you all the graces of which you stand in need. I wish to mark the occasion by a little token of my affection, and I have already written to Gesnalde to transmit it to you. It is a mere trifle, but I know that you will only look, as you have always done in past years, to the person it comes from, and that you will give it value by accepting it, and by corresponding with me in recommending me, as I do you, to the special favour of the Almighty. As being my elder sister, you used always, when we were children, to pray for your little brother; and I know that you still continue the practice; I am most grateful for it, and I try to make you every return.
Your sons, and my niece Anna unite with me in their affectionate wishes, and beg your blessing. May God bestow his most abundant blessings on you!”
The history of the later years of the Cardinal’s life presents scarcely any incidents of any special interest. Few of the reports of the foreigners who met him at this period, differ in any material particulars from those which we have already seen. I shall content myself, therefore, with two or three of them, which may be taken as specimens of the entire, but which are selected also with a view to serve in guiding the reader in his estimate, not merely of the general attainments of the Cardinal as a linguist, but of his proficiency in the languages of the writers themselves, and in other languages, not specially commemorated hitherto.
We have already passingly alluded to the account of Mezzofanti given by the Rev. Ingraham Kip, a clergyman of the Episcopalian Church in America: but the details into which this gentleman enters, regarding his Eminence’s knowledge of the English language and literature, are so important, that it would be unpardonable to pass them by.
“He is a small lively looking man,” says Mr. Kip, “apparently over seventy. He speaks English with a slight foreign accent—yet remarkably correct. Indeed, I never before met with a foreigner who could talk for ten minutes without using some word with a shade of meaning not exactly right; yet, in the long conversation I had with the Cardinal, I detected nothing like this. He did not use a single expression or word in any way which was not strictly and idiomatically correct. He converses, too, without the slightest hesitation, never being at the least loss for the proper phrase.
In talking about him some time before to an ecclesiastic, I quoted Lady Blessington’s remark, ‘that she did not believe he had made much progress in the literature of these forty-two languages; but was rather like a man who spent his time in manufacturing keys to palaces which he had not time to enter;’ and I inquired whether this was true. ‘Try him,’ said he, laughing; and, having now the opportunity, I endeavoured to do so. I led him, therefore, to talk of Lord Byron and his works, and then of English literature generally. He gave me, in the course of his conversation, quite a discussion on the subject which was the golden period of the English language; and of course fixed on the days of Addison. He drew a comparison between the characteristics of the French, Italian, and Spanish languages; spoke of Lockhart’s translation from the Spanish, and incidentally referred to various other English writers. He then went on to speak of American literature, and paid high compliments to the pure style of some of our best writers. He expressed an opinion that, with many, it had been evidently formed by a careful study of the old authors—those ‘wells of English undefiled’—and, that within the last fifty years we had imported fewer foreign words than had been done in England. He spoke very warmly of the works of Mr. Fennimore Cooper, whose name, by the way, is better known on the continent than that of any other American author.”
As Mr. Kip, unfortunately, was not acquainted with any of the Indian languages of North America, he was unable to test the extent of the Cardinal’s attainments in these languages. His account, nevertheless, is not without interest.