Infamous Lady: The True Story of Countess Erzsébet Báthory (4 page)

Only one thing now stood in the way of Tamás securing the massive Kanizsai holdings for himself: the Kanizsai family was still loyal to Ferdinand. If Nádasdy was to take possession of Orsolya’s massive tracts of land, villages, and castles, he would have to change his allegiance yet again, back to Ferdinand and the Hapsburgs. Negotiations began; Tamás promised loyalty to his original lord, Ferdinand, in exchange for his wife’s properties. Happy to have him back, Ferdinand agreed, promising Nádasdy additional grants of land from the Emperor as a wedding gift.

Angered by Nádasdy’s treachery, however, Szapolyai and the Turks vowed revenge. In 1532, Turkish forces attacked Nádasdy’s towns of Sárvár and Leka (Lockenhaus), acquired from Orsolya’s family. In each instance, the small garrisons of both towns managed to repel the Turks (considered a miracle by the local people). Luckily for Tamás Nádasdy, the Hapsburgs and the Ottoman Turks began peace talks soon after and reached another cease-fire agreement in June 1533: Ferdinand acknowledged Sultan Suleyman as “father and suzerain,” agreed to pay an annual tribute, and give up all Hungarian holdings acquired after the original Ottoman conquest. His rival, Szapolyai, was crowned king of central Hungary, serving under the sultan.

Peace restored, matters quieted for Tamás Nádasdy. So long as he paid tribute, he was left alone. Returning now to his vast estates, he married Orsolya in 1535 and immediately set about turning Sárvár into a true Renaissance city. He built a magnificent new castle on the marshes and established a cultural center in the crumbling, war-struck town. In 1534 he founded a school and, in 1537, a printing house in Újsziget. Nádasdy placed János Sylvester in charge of both, also appointing him teacher at the school. Sylvester promptly translated the New Testament into Hungarian and printed it in 1541, creating the first printed book in Hungary. Although a Catholic when he needed to be (particularly around Ferdinand and the Hapsburgs), Tamás Nádasdy also championed the new Protestant movement, inviting Lutheran scholars to Sárvár. He filled his palace with artwork and surrounded himself with scientists, doctors, humanists, theologians, musicians, and painters while rising steadily through the political ranks.

The peace between Ferdinand and the Turks was not to last, unfortunately, and even Szapolyai began to fear unchecked Turkish expansion. Clashes continued and diplomacy, as well as warfare, took Tamás Nádasdy away from home frequently. From 1537 onwards, he became one of Ferdinand's most influential counselors, spending much of each year at Court in Vienna and Prague. Subsequently, he defended the border provinces against the Turks. In 1540, the same year that János Szapolyai died, Tamás Nádasdy was appointed iudex curie regie (royal court judge); in 1547 he presided over the Diet of Nagyszombat, and finally, in 1559, was elected Palatine (Prime Minister) of Hungary by the Diet of Pozsony (now Bratislava, Slovakia).

5

THE LETTERS OF TAMÁS AND ORSOLYA NÁDASDY

As a result of her tutelage at Ecsed, Erzsébet Báthory learned to write in the controlled, classical style of Latin and Greek, typically avoiding any sort of flowery language or poetics. In later letters to her husband, in fact, she avoided any “kiss-and-tell” language, using only simple and respectful forms of address and conclusions, such as, “your loving wife,” or “at your service.” Indeed, her tone was often formal, with expressions such as: “Congratulations on your good fortune,” or, “I have received your numerous letters. Let God keep you in good health.”

This is in stark contrast to the often lyrical and even poetic letters between Tamás and Orsolya Nádasdy. Tamás, for example, would frequently tease about his age, calling himself “your old grey vulture,” or “your old cod piece,” and write in full phrases, such as, “Your letter caused me great pleasure.” Although some commentators claim that Orsolya Nádasdy could neither read nor write, this is not true. The letters between Tamás and Orsolya Nádasdy are some of the finest examples of mid-sixteenth-century writing of the nobility, and a great deal of correspondence, written in their own hands, has been preserved to this day. Orsolya was unable to read and write when the couple first married; Tamás saw to it, however, that she received tutoring. Within a few years, she was fluent, although she still found it physically difficult to write, and it took her considerable time to do so.

From their letters, we also learn much about their relationship, including the ill health that Orsolya frequently suffered. The act of writing, apparently, was even thought to contribute to her weakened condition: “My beloved Orsolya,” cautioned Tamás in 1552, “you have done well not to write with your own hand. You are not to do so henceforth either, because it is common knowledge that whereas three fingers are writing, the whole body is at work.”

One month later, she dictated the following: “Why I cannot write myself, Your Honor, You must forgive me, for I dare not exert myself in bed, not even with writing.”

Despite the time and (physical) effort required, it would appear that the two preferred the privacy of writing directly to one another rather than dictating their content to scribes. They reserved dictation only when rushed or ill. For example, in 1553, Orsolya apologized: “…Your Honor should forgive me for having this letter written in another hand, for I could not perform it myself, owing to the urgent departure of the post.”

The Palatine himself also apologized for having been too busy to write: “Forgive me, therefore, my beloved kinswoman, for not writing this letter in my own hand, for the many activities I conduct.”

On another occasion, Tamás urged, “Write to me every day, I beseech you, about your condition, but do not tire yourself, for whatever you may entrust either the estate steward or the castellan to write [have them do for you], but whatever is not becoming to be written about by them (such as women’s maladies) you should have my woman sister take down when she has no headaches.” (This “woman sister” was a relative of Tamás Nádasdy, the widow of István Majláth).

Orsolya was treated by the noted doctor and herbalist, Gáspár Körös. Apparently, his treatments helped. By 1560, she was able to write again by herself and used her letter to reassure her husband of her improving condition: “My handwriting is proof enough,” she reasoned, “that a sick person cannot write this much.”

The following day, he replied: “Do give me a reply to my letter, I beseech you. When you write that you are in good health and I can learn about this by seeing letters in your own hand, then I believe you, and I also rejoice because of your healthy state….I have also written to you more with my two hands in these days.”

6

FERENC NÁDASDY

Although frequently separated by business deals, affairs of state, or warfare, Tamás and Orsolya Nádasdy tried repeatedly to have children: they had two sons, László and Márton, both of whom died young. By the mid 1550’s, Tamás was nearing 60 years of age and, given the correspondence between them, Orsolya was apparently still in an on-and-off-again state of ill health. Time was running out.

      Desperate for a male heir, the couple entered into a contract with nobleman Gábor Majláth so as to adopt from his family and thus consolidate the clans’ fortunes. However, just as the agreement concluded, it was announced that Orsolya was pregnant. Although the news no doubt dashed the Majláth family’s hopes of buying into a dynastic fortune, the birth of the Nádasdys’ long-awaited heir, Ferenc, was obviously a source of great joy for them. Ferenc was born on October 6, 1555. Tamás was away at court and met his new son for the first time upon returning home for Christmas a few months later.

      There is no question that Orsolya and Tamás doted over the boy who would someday become Hungary’s national war hero and Erzsébet Báthory’s husband. Orsolya maintained meticulous journals on his academic progress and filled pages of letters with commentary on his every move. Tamás wrote frequently to his son, often referring to himself as, “Your Old Daddy,” or “Your Old Lieutenant.” They gave their son the nickname, Ferkó.

      Like any child, Ferkó frequently requested gifts of toys and food from his father. By the time the boy reached the age of five, it was determined that he should no longer expect to get something for nothing. Writing to Orsolya, Tamás said that he had bought the requested gift this time, but: “Unless he writes himself next time, I shall not send or give him anything.”

      That said, young Ferkó penned the following letter to his father:

      Both Tamás and Orsolya worried about the unstable political situation and the boy’s future in an increasingly dangerous world. It is said that when Ferkó was less than a year old, his father ordered that the child be raised such that he never have “soft eyes.” Tamás also felt that the boy was terribly spoiled by his mother. In another letter to Orsolya, he told her to entrust Ferkó to someone who would “spank him when necessary.” It is likely that young Ferenc began military training at an early age. Judging by the boy’s letters, however, playing soldier was already one of his favorite games.

      In 1560, when Ferenc was five, the Nádasdy family inherited a playmate for him—a little boy named Györkó Öry. In his will, the child’s father left the boy to the Nádasdys as a permanent servant. Tamás sent Györkó to Sárvár with the message that “Ferenc should receive him into his court.” The fact that Ferenc had his own court at the age of five was exceptional; being an only child, however, was also exceptional.

      The couple would not live to see their only son grow up, however, nor have the pleasure of meeting their grandchildren. Tamás Nádasdy passed away first, in 1562, when Ferenc was only seven. After a lengthy period of mourning, including the erection of a massive memorial to her husband, Orsolya began to consider her son’s future more seriously, as well as her own. Her young Ferkó was already studying with some of the greatest minds of the time at Sárvár, including the noted preacher and botanist, István Beythe (1532-1612). Ferenc studied with Beythe until the age of ten, when Beythe left Sárvár in 1565. From there, Demeter Sibolti (Tholnensis) assumed the role of primary tutor, from 1565-68. At the age of 12 (1567), Ferenc left for Vienna to further his education, accompanied by Demeter Sibolti and other Lutheran tutors. He would remain there for two years, until 1569. Ferenc must have enjoyed his work with Sibolti; in July of 1568, he wrote that he was a “grateful pupil.” Ferenc also began formal military training as a cadet assigned to barracks set up along the Austro-Hungarian border. While at the King’s Court, he met up with two boys that would also have notable careers in Hungarian history: István Bocskai (1557-1606), leader of the revolution in Transylvania, and the famous Hungarian poet, Bálint Balassi (1554-1594).

       However, as his mother recounted, her son was growing up to be a skilled athlete and warrior, popular with the other boys, but “no scholar.” She worried more than once over what would become of him when his strength failed. For the time being, though, a military career seemed nearly certain: by the time Ferenc reached his teen years, border skirmishes and raids with the Turks were occurring again.

      Meanwhile, young Ferenc freely came and went, enjoying his school friends and pursuits, while his mother continued to obsess about his future and her own. Orsolya’s health problems continued, and she would need to find a wife for him soon. Soon, the business of managing the vast Kanizsai-Nádasdy estates would fall upon him, and it was clear that he needed a strong—and intelligent—helpmate. In addition, in order to preserve the vast family fortune, he would also require a young lady of equal or better wealth and social status.

      The choice seemed obvious: young Erzsébet Báthory was already known for her superior intelligence even as a child, and, more important, her illustrious family name held even more prestige and status than that of the Kanizsai-Nádasdys. In addition, Erzsébet’s mother, Anna, and Orsolya Nádasdy were related through marriage on the Dragffy side of the family. Talks between the families began with the goal of a marriage contract.

       While some marriage proposals amongst the nobility were spontaneous, most were negotiated heavily with great emphasis placed on following strict rules and lengthy periods of courtship. Property terms were also carefully crafted, considering that vast tracts of land, possessions and money would either transfer hands or stay within a family, as clans united politically as well as economically. Beneficiaries had to be considered, as did the preservation and enhancement of power on both sides. In some cases, families even negotiated the unthinkable: an assassination or “mysterious death” of a party to the marriage contract could result in a forfeiture or reversion of assets.

      On December 21, 1572, with the wedding contract concluded, the now 12-year-old Erzsébet Báthory was formally engaged to 17-year-old Count Ferenc Nádasdy de Nádasd et Fogarasföld at Castle Csicsva. Around this time, she left her family home in the countryside to travel to the Nádasdy family seat at Sárvár. We cannot be sure if Erzsébet ever visited Sárvár before this, but we can say with relative certainty that she must have been somewhat awed, if not culture shocked, upon arrival. Unlike the Báthory family, steeped in its long history that emphasized classical training and the traditions of the Middle Ages, the Nádasdy family’s palace at Sárvár was bursting with all that was new—music, art, books, inventions, and religion—with an eye clearly toward the future.