Infamous Lady: The True Story of Countess Erzsébet Báthory (16 page)

The year 1610 began with a wedding. Erzsébet’s daughter, Katalin, was set to marry Lord György Drugeth de Homonnay on January 6
^th
. The wedding was to be held at Csejthe Castle, and Countess Báthory planned a lavish event. Despite the political intrigue beginning to swirl around her, the Countess temporarily put all out of mind.

Katalin was the youngest, and supposedly favorite, child of Erzsébet, and the one who would bring her mother food and supplies during her later incarceration. Apparently, Kata also participated in at least one torturing session with her mother. The soon-to-be Countess of Homonnay was spending time with Erzsébet at Csejthe just before her wedding day. It may be that mother was instructing daughter in the ways of being a good wife. In any case, the situation soon got out of control. Both Katalin and the Lady were reputed to have tortured and burned two servant girls in their chambers that night. A witness saw traces of torture, how the girls had been burned, and how he had heard the Lady actually put a hot iron into their vaginas. The two girls died while the wedding festivities were going on, and numerous servants and townspeople were aware of how their bodies were taken away to Kostolány for what was supposed to be a secret burial.

The church sextant at Kostolány, as well as two grave diggers, testified later under oath that the girls were covered in welts, their faces mangled. According to nursemaid, Ilona Jó, Katalin also provided her mother with a servant girl through the Countess’ stable master, Dániel Vas. More likely than not, Katalin knew exactly what would happen to the child once in her mother’s service.

The rumors continued to multiply, and the first legal steps taken against the Countess began in February of 1610. Under orders from the King, an investigation into the Countess’ alleged activities was initiated. On March 5
^th
, Györy Thurzó dispatched two letters: one to Chief Notary, András of Keresztúr, and the other to Deputy Notary and Judge, Mózes (Mojzis) Cziráky. Thurzó stated: “You know how, both in the past and present time, several serious complaints have come to us regarding the noble…Lady Erzsébet Báthory…; namely, that [she], through some sort of evil spirit, has set aside her reverence for God and man, and has killed in cruel and various ways many girls and virgins and other women who lived in her
Gynaecaeum
.”

Thurzó then ordered the two men “to collect and make inquiries of witnesses, as the law of the Kingdom requires.” No one was to be exempt: “…As soon as you receive this letter,…question every member of both the ecclesiastical state as well as the nobility and other honorable people of all classes and of both sexes.” Thurzó ordered Cziráky to question residents of Györ, Sopron, Vas, Zala and Veszprém counties; András of Keresztúr was to interrogate witnesses from Bratislava, Nitra, Trenčín and Bars counties. To encourage honesty, a heavy financial penalty would be levied against anyone who lied under oath.

From March through July of that year, András of Keresztúr interrogated 34 witnesses, completing his report on September 19, 1610. Many of the witnesses called were commoners, coming primarily from the nearby market town of Újhely. Fourteen of them were subjects of Dániel Pongrácz, the local lord who shared equitable holdings with the Nádasdys in the land surrounding Castle Beckov; seven were servants of Peter Rattkay; and five were vassals of Squire Ferenc Magochy who also also owned neighboring property. It is ironic that the servants who would never have been allowed entry onto the Countess’ lands without permission were now being invited freely to testify as to what they knew about her. They behaved with discretion, however, admitting that they had seen nothing with their own eyes, having heard only rumors. It may be that they were afraid of the powerful Lady who was still at large. Nevertheless, they relayed what they had heard. For example, Miklós Kuzkleba, a servant of Pongrácz, testified that he had heard a rumor that the Countess murdered two noble girls from Liptov County. He had also heard from his son that a girl was bound and then very violently beaten and lashed before being submerged into the ice cold water of a river.

A number of witnesses, including György Premerská, Miklós Kochanovsky and György Blanár, said that they had heard Erzsébet Báthory killed two girls during the Homonnay wedding celebration and buried them in Kostolány. Other witnesses to step forward included Matthias Muraközy, and Rev. Stephen Raczyczenus. a noble and clergyman who testified to what they had heard regarding girls lost to the
Gynaecaeum
.

It is is interesting to note, however, that of the 34 witness accounts, nothing conclusive resulted. With the exception of a single witness, Andreas Somogy, a city clerk who claimed to have seen girls with badly burned hands, not a single deponent actually saw or heard anything personally. All admitted that they knew nothing other than what someone else had told them.

Meanwhile, things were not going much better for Deputy Notary, Mózes (Mojzis) Cziráky, who began his interrogatories on March 25th. While András of Keresztúr focused his efforts on the inhabitants of the town of Újhely, Cziráky concentrated on the staff at Castle Sárvár. Most deponents were still in the Countess’ employ at that time, however, and if they did know anything, they were reluctant to speak: Sárvár Vice Castellan (Warden), Gregor Paisjárto, knew only that a dead girl had been taken out for burial but had no idea how she died; Paymaster Benedict Zalay said that his only duty was to supply the castle—not to concern himself with rumors; doctor Ambrus Barbély saw only the faces of girls to whom he had administered medicines and knew of no ill effects on their bodies; Vice Warden Paul Beöd knew nothing more than hearsay and that some girls had been taken out for burial. As before, witnesses from town knew little more than rumors of cruelty, having seen nothing personally.

Only a handful of the 18 witnesses interrogated by Cziráky offered anything promising or useful to the court: Castellan Benedict Bicsérdy had seen a bloodstain on a wall, heard the sound of beatings from outside the castle, and knew of 175 dead girls and women taken out of the house; like the others, however, he never witnessed the torturing personally. Rev. Michael Zvonaric recounted the odd story of three girls packed into a single coffin; Ferenc Török claimed to have seen girls with arms tied so tightly that the hands were blue and blood came from the fingers; Castellan Balthasar Poby claimed to know of two or three hundred who had died; and István Vagy testified to magical practices against government officials.

In all, however, it was not the kind of case-closed evidence that the King or Palatine desired, particularly when trying to bring an action against a woman of such high stature as the Lady Widow Nádasdy.

By June, with the proceedings well underway and rumors against their mother-in-law nonetheless piling up, Barons Miklós Zrínyi and Győrgy Drugeth de Homonnay met with Győrgy Thurzó for a round of secret negotiations. How, they wanted to know, could they keep this scandal from getting out of control? Thurzó was already contemplating a plan and asked the younger men if he could count on their loyalty. They agreed.

Meanwhile, Countess Báthory learned of the supposedly secret proceedings that were taking place against her. It would not have been difficult, however; by now, the inquests were public knowledge. In response, she launched a rather bold move by attempting to protest her innocence. Of the nearly dozen young noblewomen said to have died by her hands, one named Zsuszana Hernath stood out: either Zsuszana really did die of natural causes or her mother, a widow, was easily bribed. In any case, on August 24, 1610, the Countess personally appeared at the Court of Vasvár-Szombathely (Eisenburg), no doubt to the astonishment of the legal authority there, accompanied by the Widow Hernath. Mrs. Hernath proceeded to make a spontaneous declaration to the court that her daughter did not die of torture but rather from natural causes. We are not sure of the court’s reaction; we know only that this statement was never taken into account either by the judicial system, King, or Palatine.

Evidently, the Countess realized that she had not gotten very far. That said, on September 3, 1610, she wrote her Last Will and Testament, declaring that all of her assets pass equally to her three children: son, Pál, and daughters, Anna and Kata. She asked only that they wait until the presently 12-year-old Pál reach the age of majority before dividing the property and, in the meantime, take care so that no harm came to it. It is nearly certain that she was now receiving legal advice and that a trusted advisor suggested she divest herself of her property; doing so would make her a less attractive target to the King. We do know that she began corresponding with her younger cousin, Gábor Báthory, Voivod of Transylvania, regarding the legal status of her holdings and, possibly, a political alliance with him.

One month later, she returned to Sárvár where she collected most of her jewelry and other personal valuables and then ordered it sent to Csejthe Castle, officially establishing Csejthe as her new court. She likely knew the walls were closing in on her.

 
The notaries’ reports were submitted in the fall of 1610. After reviewing the documents, the matter was still not conclusive enough for Thurzó to make an arrest. However, he would have to act somehow, and soon—the King was becoming impatient. The Palatine was willing to stall at least through the Christmas holiday when Parliament was set to adjourn.

Meanwhile, relations between the Countess and Thurzó were rapidly breaking down. Fights, apparently, were even breaking out between their households. On October 20, 1610, Erzsébet Báthory fired off an angry letter to the Palatine, initiating a complaint against his servant, Kaspar Pattai. According to the Countess, this man was involved in a large controversy with her staff and also abused her entire house. “This cannot be tolerated,” she concluded, “and therefore requires protection against such an insult.”

      By November, Miklós (Nicolaus) Zrínyi wrote to Thurzó, reaffirming his and Drugeth’s loyalty. Thurzó was hatching a plot to either put the Countess away in a convent or imprison her for life in Csejthe Castle, and her sons-in-law promised not to interfere. In fact, they were preparing to take over the administration of her estates immediately upon her apprehension. Another letter from Zrínyi to Thurzó, written on December 12th, confirmed that the men had perpetual imprisonment at Csejthe Castle in mind. Whether or not they knew of the Countess’ Last Will and Testament, they were already discussing how to divide her estate. One can even glimpse a bit into Zrínyi’s personality by the concern he raises regarding his share of choice property:

      With Erzsébet’s powerful sons-in-law in league, Thurzó prepared to bring the matter to a conclusion. Before he took this final step, however, he himself had to be absolutely certain of the Countess’ guilt. In December, his Castellan at
Bytča,
Gáspár Bajáky
(also spelled Nagy-Najáky, and even Casparus Echy)) recorded the
testimonies of forty local villagers under oath who claimed, in like fashion, that they had heard stories of torture and murder at Countess Báthory’s court.
Sometime before Christmas, Thurzó went to Csejthe to meet personally with Erszébet Báthory. He informed her of the numerous accusations lodged against her and asked her to account for it. He particularly wanted to know about the girls listed in Pastor Barosius’ report and the heavy denouncements that Rev. Ponikenusz was making from the pulpit.

      The one thing that we can say about Countess Báthory is that she was an incredible actress who could lie with a smile and turn on an almost hypnotic charm. In public, she portrayed an image of noble bearing, calm stoicism, and enlightened intelligence. Everything about her
seemed
normal to her peers: her letters, the way she entertained, her always-elegant demeanor. In public, this was a noblewoman who simply raised a finger or gave a slight nod of the head to summon servants. At least in front of other aristocrats, she was not some disheveled lunatic or shrill harpie. The accusations simply did not make sense when one saw this well-spoken, level-headed woman. Thurzó, no doubt, wanted to see for himself if his distantly related kinswoman could account for the bizarre allegations.

      In any case, the Countess replied with her usual charm and measured calm. While serving tea and cakes, she assured Thurzó that such accusations were pure nonsense and the mistake of Pastor Berthoni (Barosius), a very old man—many of the girls had simply died from an epidemic and had been buried hastily and in secret to avoid a panic. So it had been at Sárvár and the other estates. The Countess might also have retold the explanation given to the aristocratic parents, including the story of the girls’ bloody fight over jewelry. Whatever she said, she managed again to delay the inevitable. Thurzó left her castle without deporting her to a convent, arresting her, or further incident.

      Immediately afterwords, however, the Countess went into one of her rages, typical of stressful events. More girls died. As mentioned, whenever Erzsébet Báthory had to put on an act in public, whether through entertaining, attending a social function, or covering her tracks, it placed an absolutely enormous stress on her. Essentially, the pressure of playing the gracious host, submissive wife, or enlightened noble caused a murderous rage to well up within her. Whether this pathology was traced to brutalization she herself received, or some other imbalance, the rage was clearly psychotic. We know that when she suffered from illness or fretted about money, it also caused her to lose control. In some cases, she could not contain her murderous rage for even minutes after the conclusion of a stressful event.