At all events, whatever may have been his actual opportunities of study during the years which succeeded his deprivation, it is certain that, upon the whole, his progress during that time was not less wonderful than at the most favoured periods of his life. Northern Italy, during this troubled time, was the principal seat of the struggle between Austria and the French Republic; and from the first advance of the French in 1796, till the decisive field of Marengo in 1800, Bologna found itself alternately in the occupation of one or other of the contending powers. For nearly twelve months, however, after the battle of Trebbia, in July, 1799, the Austrians remained in undisturbed possession. The army of Austria at that day comprised in its motley ranks, representatives of most of the leading European languages—Teutonic, Slavonic, Czechish, Magyar, Romanic, &c. The intercourse with the officers and soldiery thus opened for Mezzofanti, in itself supplied a school of languages, which, taken in conjunction with the university, and its other resources, it would have been difficult to find in any other single European city, except Rome.
And these advantages presented themselves to the Abate Mezzofanti, since his advancement to the priesthood, in a way which enlisted still higher feelings than that desire for knowledge which had hitherto formed his main incentive to study.
All the accounts which have been preserved of the early years of his ministry, concur in extolling his remarkable piety, his devotedness to the duties of the confessional,[303] and above all his active and tender charity. He had a share in every work of benevolence. He loved to organize little plans for the education of the poor. Notwithstanding his numerous and pressing occupations, he was a constant visitant of the numerous charitable institutions for which Bologna, even among the munificent cities of Italy, has long been celebrated. He was particularly devoted to the sick;—not only to the class who are called in Italy “the bashful poor,” whom he loved to seek out and visit at their own houses, and to whom, poor as he was in worldly wealth, his active benevolence enabled him to render services which money could not have procured;—but also in the public hospitals, both civil and military. Now the terrible campaign of 1796-’97, and again of 1799, had filled the camps of both armies with sick and wounded soldiers; and thus in the public hospitals of Bologna were constantly to be found invalids of almost every European race. M. Manavit[304] states that, even before Mezzofanti was ordained priest, he had begun to act as interpreter to the wounded or dying in the hospitals, whether of their temporal or their spiritual wants and wishes. From the date of his ordination, of course, he was moved to the same service by a zeal still higher and more holy.
“I was at Bologna,” he himself told M. Manavit,[305] “during the time of the war. I was then young in the sacred ministry; it was my practice to visit the military hospitals. I constantly met there Hungarians, Slavonians, Germans, and Bohemians, who had been wounded in battle, or invalided during the campaign; and it pained me to the heart that from want of the means of communicating with them, I was unable to confess those among them who were Catholics, or to bring back to the Church those who were separated from her communion. In such cases, accordingly, I used to apply myself, with all my energy, to the study of the language of the patients, until I knew enough of them to make myself understood; I required no more. With these first rudiments I presented myself among the sick wards. Such of the invalids as desired it, I managed to confess; with others I held occasional conversations; and thus in a short time I acquired a considerable vocabulary. At length, through the grace of God, assisted by my private studies, and by a retentive memory, I came to know, not merely the generic languages of the nations to which the several invalids belonged, but even the peculiar dialects of their various provinces.”
In this way, being already well acquainted with German, he became master successively of Magyar, Bohemian, or Czechish, Polish, and even of the Gipsy dialect, which he learned from one of that strange race, who was a soldier in a Hungarian regiment quartered at Bologna during this period.[306] It is probable, too, that it was in the same manner he also learned Russian. It is at least certain that he was able to speak that language fluently, at the date of his acquaintance with the celebrated Suwarrow. Mezzofanti’s report of the acquirements of this “remarkable barbarian” differs widely from the notion then popularly entertained regarding him. He described him as a most accomplished linguist, and a well-read scholar. This report, it may be added, is fully confirmed by the most recent authorities, and Alison describes him as “highly educated, polished in his manners, speaking and writing seven languages with facility, and extensively read, especially upon the art of war.”[307]
It was about this time also that Mezzofanti learned Flemish. He acquired that language from a youth of Brussels, who came as a student to the University of Bologna.[308]
The reputation which he was thus gradually establishing, of itself served to extend his opportunities of exercise in languages. Every foreigner who visited Bologna sought his society for the purpose of testing personally the truth of the marvellous reports which had been circulation. In these days Bologna was the high road to Rome, and few visitors to that capital failed to tarry for a short time at Bologna, to examine the many objects of interest which it contains. To all of these Mezzofanti found a ready and welcome access. There were few with whom his fertile vocabulary did not supply some medium of communication; but, even when the stranger could not speak any except the unknown tongue, Mezzofanti’s ready ingenuity soon enabled him, as with the patients in the hospital, to establish a system for the interchange of thought. A very small number of leading words sufficed as a foundation; and the almost instinctive facility with which, by a single effort, he grasped all the principal peculiarities of the structure of each new language, speedily enabled him to acquire enough of the essential inflections of each to enter on the preliminaries of conversation. For his marvellous instinct of acquisitiveness this was enough. The iron tenacity of his memory never let go a word, a phrase, an idiom, or even a sound, which it once had mastered.
In his zeal for the extension of the circle of his knowledge of languages, too, he pushed to the utmost the valuable opportunities derivable from the converse of foreigners. “The hotel-keepers,” he told M. Manavit,[309] “were in the habit of apprising me of the arrival of all strangers at Bologna. I made no difficulty when anything was to be learned, about calling on them, interrogating them, making notes of their communications, and taking instructions from them in the pronunciation of their respective languages. A few learned Jesuits, and several Spaniards, Portuguese, and Mexicans, who resided at Bologna, afforded me valuable aid in learning both the ancient languages, and those of their own countries. I made it a rule to learn every new grammar, and to apply myself to every strange dictionary that came within my reach. I was constantly filling my head with new words; and, whenever any new strangers, whether of high or low degree, passed through Bologna, I endeavoured to turn them to account, using the one for the purpose of perfecting my pronunciation, and the other for that of learning the familiar words and turns of expression. I must confess, too, that it cost me but little trouble; for, in addition to an excellent memory, God had blessed me with an incredible flexibility of the organs of speech.”
Occasionally, too, he received applications from merchants, bankers, and even private individuals, to translate for them portions of their foreign correspondence which chanced to be written in some of the languages of less ordinary occurrence. In all such cases, Dr. Santagata[310] says, Mezzofanti was the unfailing resource; and his good nature was as ready as his knowledge was universal. He cheerfully rendered to every applicant every such assistance; and it was his invariable rule never to accept any remuneration whatsoever for this or any similar service.[311]
Even his regular priestly duties as a confessor now contributed, as his extraordinary duties in the hospitals had done before, to enlarge his stock of languages. He was soon marked out as the “foreigners’ confessor” (confessario dei forestieri) of Bologna, an office which, in Rome and other Catholic cities, is generally entrusted to a staff consisting of many individuals. Almost every foreigner was sure to find a ready resource in Mezzofanti; though it more than once happened that, as a preliminary step towards receiving the confession of the party applying for this office of his ministry, he had to place himself as a pupil in the hands of the intending penitent, and to acquire from him or her the rudiments of the language in which they were to communicate with each other. The process to him was simple enough. If the stranger was able to repeat for him the Commandments, the Lord’s Prayer, the Apostles’ Creed, or any one of those familiar prayers which are the common property of all Christian countries, or even to supply the names of a few of the leading ideas of Christian theology, as God, sin, virtue, earth, heaven, hell, &c., it was sufficient for Mezzofanti. In many cases he proceeded to build, upon a foundation not a whit more substantial than this, the whole fabric of the grammar, and to a great extent even of the vocabulary, of a language. A remarkable instance of this faculty I shall have to relate in the later years of his life. Another, which belongs to the present period, has been communicated to me by Cardinal Wiseman. “Mezzofanti told me,” says his Eminence, “that a lady from the island of Sardinia once came to Bologna, bringing with her a maid who could speak nothing but the Sardinian dialect, a soft patois composed of Latin, Italian, and Spanish (e.g., Mezzofanti told me that columba mia is Sardinian for “my wife.”) As Easter approached the girl became anxious and unhappy about confession, despairing of finding a confessor to whom she should be able to make herself understood. The lady sent for Mezzofanti; but at that time he had never thought of learning the language. He told the lady, nevertheless, that, in a fortnight, he would be prepared to hear her maid’s confession. She laughed at the idea; but Mezzofanti persisted, and came to the house every evening for about an hour. When Easter arrived, he was able to speak Sardinian fluently, and heard the girl’s confession!”