Read Infamous Lady: The True Story of Countess Erzsébet Báthory Online
Authors: Kimberly L. Craft
Ferenc had clearly reconciled with Pastor István Magyari before his death. If the aging pastor had any questions concerning Count’s Nádasdy’s own morality, one would have never known it from the words he delivered at the service:
His Grace fought the good fight against Satan, the world, temptations of the flesh, and sin. He carried forth the word of God with forethought and love. Happily is he now gone to the Lord’s table. He did not spend his leisure time in idleness but was dedicated to the reading of the Bible. He was like a good father to his subjects. He distributed food and clothing to the poor and supported the young in their studies. He ate and drank sparingly and never overburdened his heart with excess. He ate only once on Saturdays and on all days before holidays, and then only sparingly. The more recognized and great he became, rising in the eyes of his king and countrymen, the more ever so humbly he conducted himself, because any such pretensions were far removed from his inner character.
Apparently, Magyari’s loyalty—and hatred for Jesuit Archbishop, Péter Pázmány—continued even after Lord Nádasdy’s death. As mentioned, when Pázmány began to stir up theological arguments as to why the deceased war hero would not be going to heaven, Magyari quickly fired back with a series of ideological rebuttals.
Two weeks after his death, Ferenc’ cousin, Orsolya Nádasdy Pethö, sent a letter to Erzsébet Báthory. Mindful of Count Nádasdy’s death, as well as the recent betrothal of Erzsébet’s daughter, Anna, to Nicolaus Zrínyi, Orsolya wrote the following:
My beloved, gracious Lady, sweet sister,...
My dear, sweet Lady, Your Grace has completely forgotten me; perhaps you are angry with me that, my dear sweet Lady, I could not attend the funeral of my beloved Lord (Ferenc), who, acting in place of a father, was my protector! Had only God not allowed me to live to this day! I want to apologize to you, my beloved Lady, because when I received the letter from Your Grace, and I saw that the seal was black, I dropped it, my beloved Lady. I was sick for two weeks, I could not eat a bite. When I asked, when was he buried and wanted to send someone because I was very weak, I was told that it was over. The letter was sent too late.
My beloved mistress, since then I have suffered much, because hostile Pethő relatives anger me constantly. They complain: my star has fallen! Earlier, they threw my son before the penniless Lords. Oh, my dear, sweet Lady, for me he died, I am an orphan, I have no support, no hope left on this earth! No day goes by without me mourning for him. Indeed, my beloved Lady, all my sons and my whole family are dead! Now that I know I would not find them anymore, I no longer wish to live there.
I hear that my Gracious God has brought great happiness to my beloved niece (Anna). Thank God, may she be blessed with a long life and much luck. My beloved Lady, to whom I write this, I have tearfully thanked God for you. As God is my witness, even though it hurt my Maria, I have not had greater joy to know of the happiness that my niece now enjoys. God grant that my dear brother-in-law (Nicholas Zrínyi) will be a similar protector to me and my niece, like her father (Ferenc) was….
My beloved Lady, now I bring you my services: I beg you, command and order me about. Do not treat me like a stranger or as the other relatives--only as a guest, but let me serve and help you. I will gladly go a month earlier, because I am obligated, until my death, to serve your children, because of their father, who for me in joy and sorrow was like a father. Believe me, Your Grace, that I no longer wish as much good for my own children as I do for your dear children. Consider me as such a relative, forget me not, your orphaned relative, command me and let me serve you.
About my condition, I can write you that my relatives cause me all sorts of trouble. In the castle, I could not live with them, my servants were beaten; they occupied my house. God alone knows my miserable state, there is no one left to whom I could tell this that would pity me or who would give me good advice and that I could trust. My God, my beloved Lady, I have no more comforter, God took away my support and my strong confidence in this world. My wish is to see you, my beloved beautiful Lady, as long as I'm still alive. After all, etc. Written in Sztropko, according to the new (calendar) on Saint Margaret’s Day (January 18), 1604.
Your gracious servant,
Orsolya Nádasdy
P.S. I can assure you of no other news to report, except that the Christian (i.e., Protestant) predicate was pursued. In Kosice, there is no more. His Majesty has now sent out the same article (law) to the counties, saying that those who are not Catholic will lose all of their goods. They send us however, as I hear, more and inform his Majesty, that if he does not leave us to our belief (faith), then the warden of the Assembly (the parliament probably) will no longer visit, and they will not even pay the taxes anymore. What God sends us next, I do not know.
Orsolya Nádasdy Pethö’s letter described not only her own plight as a widow but also the impending tension felt by Protestant nobles whose property was increasingly the subject of hostile Catholic interests. Her correspondence is, interestingly, a foreshadowing of a similar struggle that the newly widowed—and Protesant—Countess Báthory would herself soon face.
Meanwhile, it was customary at that time for a widow to remove herself from society and formal life for at least one year to mourn. If we have any indication of what Erzsébet truly felt for Ferenc by then—or perhaps the urgency in which she felt to maintain certain appointments—it can be summed up in the fact that only four weeks after his death, she was already devoting herself to business in Vienna. She also made a personal appearance at Court that, apparently, shocked even the Emperor. In addition, deceased nobility were typically not interred until two to three months after death; thus, the speed at which both funeral and burial had taken place, including the fact that notice of the event failed to reach even close relatives like Orsolya Nádasdy Pethö, raises something of a question.
Eight months later, in September 1604, Lady Widow Nádasdy went on a lavish shopping spree, purchasing for herself and her personal attendants an exorbitant array of clothing for a lump sum of 2,942 gold and 11 denar. Both her signature and that of the Viennese merchant, Georg Pech (György or Juraj Pechy) are present on the sales document. The amount is absolutely enormous: at that time, the annual income of a senior officer of high rank, or any doctor with a good reputation, was approximately 150 silver. The amount today would be in the millions. Like all of her many transactions, the Countess always paid early or within the month, and in cash.
Erzsébet paid all remaining obligations owed by her husband and continued to support his charitable endeavors, such as providing scholarships for students and money to support Lutheran efforts at Wittenberg. She also continued litigation with his debtors, including the Royal Treasury. She assumed control over all asset management now, as illustrated by a variety of letters in her own hand from 1604, including her signature on the annual tax bill for her various properties. Despite their previous harassment, she also protected the local clergy. One of the unfortunate consequences of the Reformation was that the properties and wages of Protestant clerics, now disenfranchised from the Catholic Church, were frequently subjected to the predatory practices of local nobility. However, on January 31, 1605, Countess Báthory issued a letter ordering the protection of the clergy’s wages and property, to be held in escrow by the bailiff and available on public record to the town and village judges and citizens, so as to answer all questions and maintain integrity. Whether she made this gesture because she wanted to or had to is not known.
From correspondence, we also learn that Erzsébet traded costly and rare jewelry with a few business partners, including the same German merchant, Pech, and that she occasionally lent out cash or goods, both to servants and nobility. The list of servants from Sárvár who owed her, whether in the form of currency or raw goods, included: Sárvár Paymaster, Benedek Zalay; Paymaster, Squire Janós Zambothny (Zamabory); Court Master Benedikt Deseö; and Castellan Benedek Bicsérdy, all of whom would later be called to testify against her.
Yet, during the same time, it is said that the monks who lived across the street from her Viennese manor were so disturbed by the screaming of tortured girls coming from her residence that they hurled their pots at the walls in anguish. The woman who spent her free time torturing servant girls in private was a complete paradox in public, providing scholarships, supporting the clergy, making helpful loans to needy staff, paying all of her bills promptly, and appearing at high-society affairs.
We cannot say exactly what triggered the escalation of torture and murder after Ferenc’ death in 1604. The couple was obviously not close by then, and Erzsébet was certainly used to running the estates by herself. By all accounts, her daily life did not change very much. She did, however, rely on certain things for her support; namely, the steady stream of income that Ferenc had provided while alive, and the military as well as social protection that his office brought to her. Although her vast properties generated great wealth, the estates were enormously expensive to operate, and the tax bill increasingly heavy. In addition, much of this wealth consisted of real estate holdings, crops, and livestock—not always quickly or easily convertible to cash. Erzsébet had come to rely on the quick cash provided when Ferenc and his troops plundered the treasuries of Turks as well as the occasional, offending European noble or merchant. When the money dried up and the protection evaporated, it appears that her mental state deteriorated just as quickly. She was vulnerable now and knew it. By this time, she was also in her mid forties and aging fast in an era when few people lived past fifty.
13
ESCALATION (1604-1610
)
Sometime before the year 1605, Erzsébet Báthory surrounded herself with an intimate cohort of servants. In addition to Anna Darvolya, four others—an unusual mix of three old women and a disfigured boy—would come to serve as her chief torturers and even execution squad. The four included: a boy named János Újváry, known simply as Ficzkó; her children’s wet nurse, the elderly widow Ilona (Helena) Jó Nagy; an elderly friend of Ilona Jó, named Dorottya (Dorothea) Szentes; and an elderly washerwoman named Katalin (Katarina or Kata) Beneczky.
Ficzkó was brought into the Countess’ service, allegedly by force, some time between 1590 and 1595, likely 1593 or 1594. We are not sure exactly how old Ficzkó was; however, the trial documents, as well as letters of the period, refer to him as a “young lad.” Witnesses called him a “boy” or “kid,” and later on, when convicted in 1611 for torturing and murdering servants, his sentence would be reduced, in part, due to his “youthful age.”
During this time period, the age of majority, or adulthood, varied based on country and circumstance. For most of Europe, one could inherit property at the age of 21, considered majority. However, under Roman law, which was still being applied throughout Europe, including countries such as Hapsburg-controlled Austria, one was not considered a full “adult” for purposes of criminal conviction until the age of 25. Depending on the legal standard used during the proceedings, Ficzkó thus could not have been more than mid-twenties, and was probably younger than that. This also indicates that he was no more than eight or ten years old when first brought to Erzsébet’s court.
Some commentators believe that Erzsébet called Ficzkó by the name of “Thorko,” and that he taught her various magical spells. Given Ficzkó’s young age, however, this would have been highly unlikely. In addition, we know from Rev. Ponikenusz’ letter of January 1, 1611 that Thorko (or Torkoss) was actually a woman who lived “miles beyond Sárvár.” The name first appears in a letter dated some time around 1594, when Erzsébet supposedly wrote to Ferenc: “Thorko has taught me a lovely new one. Catch a black hen and beat it to death with a white cane. Keep the blood and smear a little of it on your enemy. If you get no chance to smear it on his body, then get one of his articles of clothing and smear the hen’s blood on it.”
Chronicles from the time indicate that Ficzkó was disfigured, something akin to the “Igor” character known today. It may be that he was sold into slavery as a child or, perhaps, had been part of a sideshow act before being taken to the Lady’s court. One wonders why the Countess accepted him into her service at all: like the other young people that came into her employ, Erzsébet would have paid the parents or guardians, often poor people, a sum of money in exchange for the child. Márton Deak’s wife, allegedly the person who brought him to the Countess’ court by force, might have kidnapped or taken on Ficzkó as an abandoned baby, looking for an opportunity to sell him off. It also may be that the Countess felt sorry for this unusual, disfigured child; it is unlikely that he had any sort of gainful skills at the time.
However, Ficzkó appears to have done anything that the Countess desired, and this may have been what ultimately made him so useful. He apparently also ran around the estates as he pleased, getting into fights and running off his mouth regarding the bodies hidden or people he had killed. At least one witness, a judge, confronted the Countess about him; she apparently did nothing to discipline him.
Ilona Jó Nagy, referred to as the widow of the “bald coachman,” served as the wet nurse to Erzsébet’s children, including the Nádasdy girls and Pál. She stated that she had lived in the Countess’ house since 1600. By the time of trial in 1611, the surviving Nádasdy girls, Anna and Katalin, were adults in their twenties, with Pál just reaching the teen years. Thus, Ilona Jó would have worked for the Nádasdys at Sárvár during the children’s early years. The trial documents, in fact, state that Ilona Jó was the cruelest of the accomplices and that, because of this, she was later brought from Sárvár to Csejthe by Erzsébet.