The several embassies, also, afforded another, though of course less familiar school. He often met M. Bunsen, the Minister Resident of Prussia; he was frequently the guest of the Marquis de Lavradio, the Portuguese ambassador, and Don Manuel de Barras, whose letter attesting the purity and perfection of Mezzofanti’s Castilian, is now before me, was an attaché of the Spanish Embassy.
The Propaganda, however, itself a perfect microcosm of language, was his principal, as well as his favourite school. For his simple and lively disposition, the society of the young had always possessed a special charm; and to his very latest hour of health, he continued to find his favourite relaxation among the youths of this most interesting institution. In summer, he commonly spent an hour, in winter an hour and a half, in the Propaganda, partly in the library, partly among the students, among whom he held the place alternately of master and of pupil;—and, what is still more curious, he occasionally appeared in both capacities, first learning a language from the lips of a student, and then in his turn instructing his teacher in the grammatical forms and constitution of the very language he had taught him!
Independently, indeed, of study altogether, the Propaganda was for years his favourite place of resort, and there was no place where his playful and ingenuous character was more pleasingly displayed. He mixed among the pupils as one of themselves, with all the ease of an equal, and without a shade of that laborious condescension which often makes the affability of superiors an actual penance to those whom they desire to render happy. While the cheerfulness of his conversation was often tempered by grave advice or tender exhortation, it was commonly lively and even playful, and frequently ran into an amusing exhibition which those who witnessed never could forget. In the free and familiar intercourse which he encouraged and maintained, there sometimes arose sportive trials of skill, in which the great amusement of his young friends consisted in endeavouring to puzzle him by a confusion of languages, and to provoke him into answering in a language different from that in which he was addressed. The idea of these trials (which reminded one of the old-fashioned game of “cross-question,”) appears to have originated in a good-humoured surprise, which the Pope Gregory XVI. played off on Mezzofanti soon after his arrival in Rome. The linguist, however, was equal to the emergency. Like the good knight, Sir Tristram, he proved
“Most master of himself, and least encumbered,
When over-matched, entangled, and outnumbered.”
“One day,” says M. Manavit, “Gregory XVI. provided an agreeable surprise for the polyglot prelate, and a rare treat for himself, in an improvised conversation in various tongues—a regular linguistic tournament. Among the mazy alleys of the Vatican gardens, behind one of the massive walls of verdure which form its peculiar glory, the Pope placed a certain number of the Propaganda students in ambuscade. When the time came for his ordinary walk, he invited Mezzofanti to accompany him; and, as they were proceeding gravely and solemnly, on a sudden, at a given signal, these youths grouped themselves for a moment on their knees before his Holiness, and then, quickly rising, addressed themselves to Mezzofanti, each in his own tongue, with such an abundance of words and such a volubility of tone, that, in the jargon of dialects, it was almost impossible to hear, much less to understand them. But Mezzofanti did not shrink from the conflict. With the promptness and address which were peculiar to him, he took them up singly, and replied to each in his own language, with such spirit and elegance as to amaze them all.”
In addition to these increased opportunities of exercise, he also derived much assistance, in the more obscure and uncommon department of his peculiar studies, from the libraries of Rome, and especially from that of the Propaganda. The early elementary books, grammars, vocabularies, catechisms, &c., prepared for the use of missionaries in the remote missions, have for the most part been printed at the Propaganda press: and the library of that institution contains in manuscript similar elementary treatises in languages for the study of which no printed materials existed at that time. To all these, of course, the great linguist enjoyed the freest access; and it can hardly be doubted that, during the first year of his residence in Rome, he did more to enlarge his stock of words, and to perfect his facility and fluency in conversation, than perhaps in any previous year of his life.
Immediately upon Mgr. Mai’s appointment to the Secretaryship of the Propaganda, May 15th, 1833, Mezzofanti was installed as Primo Custode, First Keeper of the Vatican Library; and about the same time he was appointed to a Canonry in St. Peter’s. In the midst of the warm congratulations which he received from all sides, it was not without considerable distrust of his own powers, that he entered upon the office of Librarian, as the successor of a scholar so eminent as Angelo Mai.
“It is no ordinary distinction,” he wrote to his friend Cav. Pezzana, “to be called to succeed Mgr. Mai in the care of the Vatican Library,—a post which has derived new brilliancy from the brilliant qualities of its latest occupant: nor can I overcome my apprehension lest the honour which I may gain by my first few hours of office may decline, when it comes to be seen how great is the difference between this distinguished man and his successor. This fear, I confess, is a drawback upon my joy at this happy event; but at the same time, I trust it will also stimulate me to make every effort that the lustre of a position in itself so honourable, may not be tarnished in my person. I have only to wish that your congratulation, coming as it does from a kindly feeling, may be an earnest of the successful exercise of the diligence I am determined to use in my new career, which is all the more grateful and honourable to me, as it furnishes more frequent occasions of corresponding with you.”