ITALIAN-HUNGARIAN LITERARY RELATIONS The study of unilateral and reciprocal literary interactions, whether between individuals or nations, has been the oldest preoccupation of comparative literature. It is almost unbelievable, then, that neither the different forms of such interaction nor the methods of comparison between authors, groups, or national literatures, have generated any theory of how and why this contact occurs. A treasure-house of concrete data may be hidden in the many thousands of volumes of comparative literary studies published thus far; nevertheless, until now no one has undertaken the task of deriving generalizations from these data in order to build a theory of literary interaction. The purpose of this paper is not to contribute more data to this treasure-house of comparative facts. In the first place, the chosen topic: "Italian-Hungarian literary relations," has been repeatedly and thoroughly researched by scholars whose publications are available in both languages and do not need any urgent updating or correcting.1 Second, one can, with good reason, ask the question: why should we compare the literature of Italy and Hungary in particular? Does this comparison not seem to be that of the smart comparatist who, possessing a few elementary methodological techniques and much sophism, is ready to compare any literature of the world with any other? The fact is that conventional methods (such as those of traditional comparative literature) provide a means of gaining valid insights and even theoretical recognitions. Routine tempts one to stick to well- trodden paths, while a few paces away the richness and vastness of the field become evident. It is hoped that the following, by no means exhaustive, survey of selected stages of Italian-Hungarian cultural - 116- relations will open vistas which also have theoretical ramifications. It is a lofty but illusory view that only movements, great authors, and particular works inspire literature. There are generally shared images, stereotypes of other cultures, that influence the public consciousness of people in different cultures and times. Stereotypes are not fixed and may change, often and even radically — yet the blunt refusal of their existence, whether by sociologists,2 or by literary scholars,3 is unwarranted. The enlightened, pragmatic, and culturally optimistic spirit of Anglo-American civilization, in particular, has assumed that the source of stereotypes was ignorance. Moreover, our culture also dictates that once the different cultures and peoples learn about each other, those stereotypes disappear. As recent North Ameri­ can sociological studies have demonstrated, stereotypes exist in multi­ cultural societies as well; however, they correspond by and large to verifiable social statistics.4 That is, in our world of multi-channelled mass information, stereotypes may be regarded as naive but by and large, statistically correct references to other cultures. Of course, this was not always the case. There is one quite unflattering and very "unscientific" characteris­ tic of Italian-Hungarian cultural relations: namely, it is the Italian concept of Hungarians as barbaric, cruel warriors. This was not the only image of the Hungarians; but it was a stubbornly recurring one from the tenth through the nineteenth centuries. While this circums­ tance refutes the rationalistic view of literary theorists on stereotypes as basically peripheral to literary studies, it also corroborates their opinion that knowledge and understanding invalidate stereotypes — or at least correct them. No one denies that there was a grain of truth in this stereotype of the Hungarians. The warlike invasions of the pagan Hungarians during the tenth century had little which would have endeared the former to the Italians. Liutprando da Pavia, bishop of Cremona, depicts the horror that the Hungarian light cavalry inflicted on his compatriots in particularly vivid images: how the invaders set the city of Pavia aflame, killing by their hailstorm of arrows those who tried to escape.5 Similar dark images evolve from the monk Benedetto's description of how the Hungarian warriors acted in Italy when Pietro di Spoleto asked for their help against Rome in 927 A.D.6 There are several other docu­ ments illustrating the shock which Italy experienced following confrontation with the thousands of deadly efficient riders, matched in skill only by Attila's invasion in 452. The analogy was too tempting, the historical counter-evidence nonexistent — hence Italians forged - 117 - the myth which was to survive for centuries, namely, that the Hunga­ rians were the descendants of the Huns and just as barbaric and destructive as the latter. It is no wonder that such a historical myth was created at an early stage of medieval civilization. It is much more remarkable that it prevailed even after Hungary had become a Christian kingdom of considerable cultural achievements. Andrew, husband of Giovanna of Naples who was a descendant of the Hungaricized Anjous and was cruelly murdered with the complicity of his wife, was called "the Hun" in the Neapolitan court.7 In the latter part of the fifteenth century, during the reign of the enlightened Hungarian monarch King Mat­ thias (1458-1490), Italian and Hungarian interrelations were perhaps stronger than ever, as demonstrated by several Italian humanist chro­ niclers, a number of whom provided fair assessments (Antonio Bon- fini, Ludovico Carbone, Battista Guarino), while others wrote overwhelmingly flattering accounts (Galeotto Marzio, Naldo Naldi) of Hungary as compared to Italy. In the same period, however, Filippo Buonaccorsi published, under the pen-name "Callimachus," a drama titled Attila (1489) in which he rehashed the old stereotype and presented Matthias as ruthless ruler posed to conquer the world. It is interesting to note that the author wrote his play in the court of King Kazimir of Poland, an enemy of King Matthias. After 1541 Hungary was partitioned into three parts, one domina­ ted by Austrian imperial interests, another by the Ottoman Empire, and the third was independent. Although the Turkish invasion of Europe also threatened Italian (notably Venetian) interests, the Ita­ lians had more options to seek peaceful settlements with Constantino­ ple than did the Hungarians. Also there were Italian historians and clergymen in the Viennese court, and their unfavourable statements on Hungary demonstrated the diplomatic skill of the Habsburgs who kept two volatile flanks of their empire, Italy and Hungary, apart, in ignorance of each other and in mutual suspicion. The remarks of Giovanni Michiel,8 Giovanni Correr,9 Gerolamo Soranzo,10 Battista Nani,11 and numerous other sixteenth and seventeenth-century chroni­ clers about the perfidy, unruliness, inhumanity, and innate anti­ democratic behaviour of the Hungarians contributed to the historical claim of the Habsburgs in occupying the entire country in 1686, after driving our the Turks, under the pretext of "civilizing" the barbaric Hungarians. After the French Revolution and during the simulta­ neous awakening of nationalism in Italy and Hungary, it became important for the Habsburgs, more than ever, to prevent the exchange - 118 - of information between the two countries. Even travel was made difficult. It is no wonder that the "Hun" stereotype of the Hungarians prevailed as late as 1822 when David Bertolotti's novel La calata degli Ungheresi in Italia nel novecento was published. With its melodramatic clichés (the Italian heroine sacrifices herself to the fierce Hungarians in order to save her town; or, the awe of the Eastern barbarians at the sight of Italy's beauties, cultural as well as feminine), the novel is probably not much worse than third-rate romantic prose in general — except that it is especially embarrasing reading for a Hungarian. Fortunately, there was another image of Hungary in Italian litera­ ture as well. Ethnocentric and partial to Italy as it may have been, it was nevertheless voiced by the more representative segment of Italian literature — indeed, occasionally by the greatest authors. This should at least recognize that men of wide scope, generosity, and true artistic attitude tend to conceptualize cultural differences in a relatively less stereotyped and hostile manner. In Medieval and Renaissance Italian writing, Hungary appears not as a land inhabited by Attila's barbaric descendants but a country of beautiful landscapes, generous hospitality, bravery, noticeable wealth, and pretty women. Even such negative statement as the following, when Giacomo Pugliese mourns for his deceased lady, demonstrates a degree of admiration noticeable already in the early thirteenth century: Se fosse mio'l reame d'Ungaria con Greza e Lamagna infino in Franza, lo gran tesoro di Santa Sofia, non poria ristorar si gran perdanza.12 Sympathy with Hungary's future well-being was spelled out by Dante in Paradiso, in which he happily noted this country's great fortune to have his benefactor, Charles Martel, as her new king.13 Although Martel died young and was just a pretender to the Hungarian throne, his son, Charles Robert, became a king and ruled Hungary for decades. "O beata Ungheria!" Dante rejoiced at the enormous luck of this country in having a great Western European-born king.14 The cordial relation between the two countries culminated in the latter part of the fifteenth century when the strong and popular Hungarian monarch, King Matthias, invited a great number of Italian humanists to his court, purchased a tremendous library which was envied even by Lorenzo de' Medici, and took Beatrice of Aragon as his second wife. Following his second marriage, the Hungarian court became fully Italian, and the aging king consented to the many whims -119- of his young wife. Among these was the appointment of Beatrice's ten-year-old nephew, Ippolito d'Esté, as Bishop of Esztergom, the highest religious position in the country. Half a century later Ariosto praised the king's insight in recognizing true genius in the young boy.15 Hungarians thought otherwise; both Beatrice and her nephew found it best to leave the country after Matthias's death.