Speaking of the literature of Greece, Monsignor Missir, the learned Greek Archbishop of Irenopolis who has for many years resided at Rome, declares (in a letter of May 21st, 1855,) his belief that “Mezzofanti was as fully master of the ancient Greek, as he was of Latin or Italian, and that there was scarce a Greek author, ancient or modern, sacred or profane, whom he had not read.” The abate Pietro Matranga,[477] a Greek of Sicily, and professor of Greek in the Greek College of St. Athanasius, confirms this impression to a great extent. He states (August 17th, 1855) that “in examining the students of the Greek College, (as was his custom for many years) in the classical authors, both the orators and the tragedians, Mezzofanti never had occasion to take a book into his hands; being able on the passage being indicated by the professor, to repeat it from memory.” A Polish priest named Ozarowski, stated as much for Polish literature to Dr. Cox. Nay, even in such an out-of-the-way literature as that of Sicily, the same abate Matranga assures me that he was equally versed. “He delighted,” says the abate, “in repeating from memory the poetry of the Sicilian poet, Giovanni Meli,”[478] a writer who although of the highest fame among his countrymen, is hardly known even by name outside of his native island. I cannot close, however, without saying that I have not found any evidence of his having being equally familiar with another exceedingly important literature of the East—the ancient Syriac. Vague statements I have heard in abundance; but no one to whom I have had access could speak with certainty; and Signor Matteo Schiahuan, professor of that language in the Propaganda, considered him but moderately versed therein, (_una mediocre cognizione_.) This will appear the more difficult of explanation, as the Syriac department of his catalogue is tolerably extensive, and is abundantly supplied with at least the elementary books of that language. CHAPTER XIII. [1836-1838.] One evening about this time, Dr. Wiseman, meeting Mezzofanti in the Piazza di Spagna, inquired where he was going. “To the Propaganda,” he replied; “I have to give a lesson there.” “In what language?” asked Dr. Wiseman. “In Californian,” said Mezzofanti. “I am teaching it to the Californian youths whom we have there.” “Californian!” exclaimed his friend, “From whom can you possibly have learned that out-of-the-way tongue?” “_From themselves_,” replied Mezzofanti: “and now I am teaching it to them grammatically.” This interesting anecdote illustrates another curious phase of Mezzofanti’s marvellous faculty—the manner in which he dealt with a language, not only new to himself, but entirely unwritten, unsystematized, and, in a word, destitute of all the ordinary aids and appliances of study.