Chapter 27

Pauca dedi—nomen. Tu sane pauca petisti,Assiduus sed ego te rogo plura—preces.

Pauca dedi—nomen. Tu sane pauca petisti,

Assiduus sed ego te rogo plura—preces.

In answer to a similar request at another time, he replied—

Accipe quod poscis—nomen. Scribatur ut ipsumIn cœlo, ad Dominum tu bone funde preces.

Accipe quod poscis—nomen. Scribatur ut ipsum

In cœlo, ad Dominum tu bone funde preces.

On being presented on New Year’s day with a pair of spectacles by his friend, Dr. Peter Trombetti, of Bologna, he wrote:—

Deficit heu acies oculorum! instante senecta;Deficit;—at comis lumina tu duplicas.Lumen utrumque mihi argento dum nocte coruscatHaud mihi qui dederit decidet ex animo.

Deficit heu acies oculorum! instante senecta;

Deficit;—at comis lumina tu duplicas.

Lumen utrumque mihi argento dum nocte coruscat

Haud mihi qui dederit decidet ex animo.

A similar present at the next New Year elicited the following:—

Cum vix sufficiunt oculi mihi nocte legenti,Ecce bonus rursum lumina tu geminas.Prospera ut eveniant multis volventibus annis,Cuncta tibi, par est me geminare preces.

Cum vix sufficiunt oculi mihi nocte legenti,

Ecce bonus rursum lumina tu geminas.

Prospera ut eveniant multis volventibus annis,

Cuncta tibi, par est me geminare preces.

To another of his Bolognese friends, the Canonico Tartaglia, now rector of the Pontifical seminary, who begged some memorial, he sent the following pretty epigram:—

Sæpe ego versiculos heic dicto, stans pede in uno;Carmina sed fingo nulla linenda cedro.Qualiacumque cano velox heu dissipat aura!Unum de innumeris hoc mihi vix superest,Mittimus hoc unum interea. Exiguum accipe donumEternæ veteris pignus amicitiæ.

Sæpe ego versiculos heic dicto, stans pede in uno;

Carmina sed fingo nulla linenda cedro.

Qualiacumque cano velox heu dissipat aura!

Unum de innumeris hoc mihi vix superest,

Mittimus hoc unum interea. Exiguum accipe donum

Eternæ veteris pignus amicitiæ.

Any one who has ever tried to turn a verse in any foreign tongue, will agree with me in regarding the rapidity with which these trifles were written, as one of the most curious evidences of the writer’s mastery over the many languages in which he is known to have indulged this fancy. The really pretty Dutch verses—verses as graceful in sentiment as they are elegant in language—in reply to Dr. Wap’s address, were penned in Dr. Wap’s presence and with great rapidity. Father Legrelle’s Flemish verses were dashed off with equal quickness. The American of whom I spoke told me that the Cardinal wrote almost without a moment’s thought. It was the same for the lady mentioned by Dr. Wap, although the subject of these verses arose during the interview; and eventhe Persian stanza which he wrote for Dr. Tholuck, and which “contained several pretty ἐνθυμήσεις,” cost him only about half an hour! How many of those who consider themselves most perfect in French, Italian, or German, have ever ventured even upon a single line of poetry in any of them?

I must not omit another circumstance which I myself observed, and which struck me forcibly as illustrating the singular nicety of his ear, and still more the completeness with which he threw himself into all the details of every language which he cultivated;—I mean his manner and accent in pronouncing Latin in conversation with natives of different countries. One day I was speaking to him in company with Guido Görres, when he had occasion to quote to me Horace’s line.

Si paulum a summo decessit, vergit ad imum:—

which he pronounced quite as I should have pronounced it, and without any of the peculiarities of Italian pronunciation. He turned at once to Görres, and added—

“Or, as you would say:

Sipowlum asoommodetsessit, verghitad imum,”

introducing into it every single characteristic of the German manner of pronouncing the Latin language. I have heard the same from other foreigners. It was amusing, too, to observe that he had taken the trouble to note and to acquire the peculiar expletive or interjectional sounds, with which, as it is well known, natives of different countries unconsciously interlard their conversation, and the absence or misuseof which will sometimes serve to discover the foreign origin of one who seems to speak a language with every refinement of correctness.[530]The Englishman’s “ah!” the Frenchman’s “oh!” the whistling interjection of the Neapolitan, the grunt of the Turk, the Spaniard’s nasal twang—were all at his command.

My brief and casual intercourse with the Cardinal would not entitle me to speak of his character and disposition, were it not that my impressions are but an echo of all that has been said and written before me, of his cheerful courtesy, his open-hearted frankness, and his unaffected good nature. To all his visitors of whatever degree, he was the same—gay, amiable, and unreserved. With him humility was an instinct. It seemed as though he never thought of himself, or of any claim of his to consideration. He would hardly permit the simple mark of respect—the kissing of the ring which ordinarily accompanies the salutation of one of high ecclesiastical dignity in Italy; and his demeanour was so entirely devoid of assumption of superiority that the humblest visitor was at once made to feel at home in his company.

His conversation was uniformly gay and cheerful, and no man entered more heartily into the spirit of any little pleasantry which might arise. On one occasion, upon a melting summer day, as he was shewing the magnificent Giulio Clovio Dante, in the Vatican library, to a well-known London clergyman, the latter, in his delight at one of the beautiful miniatures by which it is illustrated—a moonlight scene—was in the act of pointing outwith his moist fingersome particular beauty which struck him, when Mezzofanti, horror-struck at the danger, caught his arm.

“Softly, my dear Doctor,” he playfully interposed: “these things may be looked at with the eyes, but not with the fingers.”

He delighted, too, in puns, and was equally ready in all languages. He laughed heartily at Cardinal Rivarola’s Italian pun against himself, about theorecchini;[531]and one day, while he was speaking German with Guido Görres, the latter having made some allusion to his Eminence’s increasing gray hairs, and spoken of him as aweiss-haar(white-haired,)

“Ach!” he replied with a gentle smile, not untinged with melancholy;—“ach! gäbe Gott dass ich, wieweiss-haar, so auchweisergeworden wäre.”[532]

It will easily be inferred from this, that, among etymologies, he was especially attracted by those which involved a play upon words:—if they admitted a pun so much the better. He was much amused by Herr Fleck’s suggestion, that the name Mezzofanti, was derived from Ἑν μέσῳ φαίνεται; and Cardinal Wiseman told me that once, after learnedly canvassing the various etymologies suggested for Felsina, the ancient name of his native city, Bologna, he laughingly brought the discussion to a close by suggesting that probably it wasFé l’asina, (the ass made it.)

Probably it was to this taste he was indebted for that familiarity with Hudibras—a writer, otherwise so unattractive to a foreigner—which took Mr. Badeley by surprise.

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