Although much has been made of the terrible relationship between young Erzsébet and her mother-in-law, Countess Orsolya Nádasdy, that they hated each other and that Erzsébet learned various methods of cruelty from watching her future mother-in-law discipline servants at Sárvár, such animosity—or lessons in cruelty—could not have lasted very long. Orsolya Nádasdy died in the spring of 1571—possibly before the young Erzsébet even arrived at Sárvár. How well the child knew her prior to the engagement is questionable, but they certainly did not spend any meaningful amount of time together.
Without Orsolya’s watchful eye, and with her fiancé off at school or away on adventures with friends, Erzsébet probably had considerable free time. The Nádasdy court flaunted its money on parties and patronizing the arts: artists, philosophers, schools, and libraries flourished there. It is likely that young Erzsébet indulged at least a few of her intellectual passions here, studying with some of Europe’s great tutors on staff at Sárvár. If nothing else, she was certainly exposed to the most contemporary thought of her time.
On the other hand, she may also have been quite unhappy there. The culture at Sárvár was quite different from her upbringing at Ecsed. The Báthory family appears to have either indulged or simply ignored young Erzsébet, in any case permitting her to engage in her male pursuits and frequent temper tantrums. At Sárvár, however, it was a different matter. She was being groomed now to be a wife and noblewoman of high station, which included eating, dressing, walking, and speaking like a lady. The showdowns between this strong-willed country girl and her courtly tutors must have been formidable, to say the least.
Sárvár was also a large and well-run estate, and there may have been long stretches of time in which Erzsébet went unsupervised with little to do. Likely, she got into trouble. That may explain a story that has persisted to this day: in 1573, two years before her wedding, the thirteen-year-old became involved in an illicit affair with a young man while staying at the Nádasdy manor in Trnava. The gossip of history tells us that his name was Ladislav Bende. The property in Trnava does indeed exist, and a certain László, or Ladislav, Bende did, indeed, live there.
Located on the Danube in the fortified walls of Trnava, the bride-to-be occupied a small manor house during that summer. There, she became attracted to a young man named László Bende. He supposedly had a magnetic personality and heroic manner. Some commentators state that he was a servant and table waiter; others claim that he was a young nobleman.
In 1894, Ferdinand von Strobl Ravelsberg authored a biography of the Countess entitled, Die Blutgräfin (Erzsébet Báthory): Ein Sitten und Charakterbild (The Blood Countess (Elizabeth Bathory): A Study and Character Portrait). Writing under the pen name, R.A. von Elsberg, he wrote that her virginity was robbed (virginitatem suam) and she was brought into perpetual infamy (in perpetuam infamiam). According to the story, Erzsébet became pregnant by Bende and gave birth to a daughter. The baby immediately disappeared, taken somewhere into Sedmohrad (Transylvania), probably Wallachia (today, part of Romania). Accordingly, the Báthory family did everything possible to cover up the scandal, including hush money to raise the child in secret; as etiquette dictated, the wedding with Ferenc Nádasdy proceeded in spite of the bride’s transgression. Legend also has it that the furious bridegroom had László Bende castrated, throwing his severed private parts to the dogs.
Von Elsberg provided the additional details that a pregnant Erzsébet Báthory actually appeared before the priests at the Cathedral Chapter of Esztergom on the day before the Feast of St. Martin (November 11) to lodge a formal complaint and admission that seven months prior, during Holy Week, she had been forcibly abducted by Ladislav Bende and then raped. The seducer had also drugged her with an extract of hempseed. Von Elsberg speculated that a failed abortion was initially attempted when the pregnancy was discovered. Moreover, to appease the bridegroom’s family and permit the wedding to proceed, both complaint against Bende and documentation of the rape were required from the church. The future bride’s reputation now cleared, she was “in an instant made a countess, and as such, imposed as the wife of Ferenc Nádasdy.” Von Elsberg states that two documents, both with the same date, were prepared by church authorities: Protestaria Elisabethae Bathory, sub fol. 210 Liber II, and Civitate libera regia Tyrnavense feria II, proxima ante festum S. Martini episcope et confessoris 1609.
If this indeed true, then one can only wonder about the strange date of both church records: 1609. This is because in November of the year 1609, when the teenaged countess supposedly made her accusation against the rapist, Erzsébet Báthory was 49 years old—hardly a virgin maiden. (Von Elsberg, unfortunately, does not seem to notice the bizarre discrepancy.)
In 1932, the Slovakian author, Jožo Nižňanský, wrote his own biography of the Countess, “Lady of Csejthe” (Cachtická Pani). With all the trappings of a great Gothic novel, he brought serialized legends of the so-called Bloody Lady back to life, thrilling a new generation who had never heard of Countess Báthory. Whether its details are true or not, Nižňanský also rekindled interest in the story of Erzsébet’s torrid love affair with László Bende and the lost baby.
7
THE WEDDING (1575)
Pre-marital affair or not, the wedding took place according to plan. On May 8, 1575 (months before either of their birthdays), 14-year-old Erzsébet and 19-year-old Ferenc married at Varanno Castle in Vranov (present-day Slovakia) in a celebration that went on for days. At this point, the parents of both bride and groom were deceased. However, the alliance of these two powerful families was essentially an affair of state conducted by legions of courtiers and remaining aunts, uncles, and cousins. By all accounts, its lavishness rivaled that of a king’s wedding, with 4,500 invited guests, including an invitation to the Holy Roman Emperor himself, Maximillian II (son of Tamás Nádasdy’s on-and-off-again protector, Ferdinand). Nothing suggests that Maximillian wished to avoid the event; however, fearful of traveling through Turkish-occupied lands from his court in Prague, the Emperor sent his apologies along with an official delegation and lavish gift.
Two weeks before the wedding, in an imperial, hand-written letter addressed to the Hungarian Court Chamber in Vienna, the Emporer wrote:
We have respectfully asked Ferenc Nádasdy, after he proposed marriage to the late Count György Báthory’s daughter, Erzsébet Báthory—to be joyfully celebrated on Sunday the 8th, in the coming month of May at Varanno—to know that it is our delight and desire to send our wedding envoy delegation. And (we) graciously granted, in accord with his obedient request, an order for a master craftsman to build a decorative credenza. We commend their mercy that they receive a silver-overlaid goblet or a picher and basin valued at 200 Thaler to be brought to them instead of our appearance at their wedding, the delivery of which is to be ordered. In addition, we graciously want you to know that the Roman Empress, our amiable, beloved spouse, thought Nádasdy should also receive a goblet worth 100 Thaler, and we desire to allocate the money for that. So we have also graciously granted that our amiable, beloved sons, Rudolph, King of Hungary, and Archduke Ernst of Austria, should also provide cups worth 150 Thaler, as well as have the credenza inscribed, and issue this gracious command: Your choice will certainly be honored, whether they bring the serving cups with them and herewith order them, or you have the craftsman make them in a style similar to our Spanish Court (as otherwise will not pay for it). This indicates our gracious will and opinion. Prague, 26 April 1575.
Amidst the roar of trumpets, drums, and ceremonial cannon and musket firing, the wedding festivities began with a joust and tournament. Cantoring past field banners and flags, the young groom rode in to the cheers of the attending visitors, including his bride-to-be. Here he attempted to prove not only his athletic ability but also his loyalty by securing the wreath or garter that would be worn by his new bride. It is certain that he won the tournament, presenting his Lady with her prize at the end of the event.
Later, his retinue would me
et up with the bridal party where the young people exchanged jokes, flirtations, and gifts. It was here that Ferenc formally presented his bride with her wedding gift: Castle Csejthe (Hung.: Csejte; Slovak: Čachtice) and its 17 accompanying villages. The property had been acquired by his mother in 1569, and she had given it to Ferenc as a gift. He now transferred it to Erzsébet. We are not certain of her reaction; perhaps, the 14-year-old girl would have preferred something more whimsical or personal than property she had likely never seen. In any case, she accepted.
As the guests moved on to the halls and temporary pavilions to enjoy the first round of feasting and music, the final ritual took place before the wedding ceremony: Ferenc would have to prove his loyalty and love for his new bride. The bride, along with members of the bridal retinue, covered their faces with veils, and each girl paraded before Ferenc pretending to be the bride-to-be. In a comic show, the young ladies imitated the bride with dramaticized gestures and movements, and it was up to him to select the true bride over her imitators. Upon selecting the correct young lady, Erzsébet lifted her veil, revealing her face to a round of applause and a kiss from the groom.
Now, the actual religious ceremony could take place. In those days, the bride did not wear a white wedding gown. Young ladies from common families wore traditional, brightly-colored dresses. A noble like Erzsébet wore an elaborate gown ladeled with silks, embroidery, and jewels. (She would keep this gown her entire life and actually mentioned it in her Will of 1610.) As Ferenc had been raised a Lutheran, the Protestant service was somewhat similar to a Catholic Wedding Mass. A blue ribbon united the hands of the couple as the union was blessed.
Now married, the young couple was escorted to the banquet hall where they and their retinue were seated at a long table on a raised dais. The most important guests were seated in the hall with them at long tables; other guests dined in ancillary pavilions outside. Feasting, drinking and music went on for hours, including traditional Hungarian, Spanish, Italian and Polish dances. For the invited clergy who were not permitted to touch the bride yet still desired a dance with her, they circled around her or touched the blue ribbon in her hand. At the end of the day, the groom’s retinue escorted the bridal couple by torchlight to the bridal chamber. They would stand vigil to ensure that the couple consummated the marriage before retiring themselves or continuing with the festivities.
Although the specifics are lost to us today, we do have some idea of how elaborate the wedding must have been and what was typical for the high nobility of the time. For example, when György Thurzó’s daughter Zsuzsanna wed in 1603, records detail the tremendous amount of food required for the festivity. Spices and fruit were purchased in Vienna, while animals, produce, and oats were obtained from surrounding estates. Thurzo purchased 200 pounds of pepper, 50 pounds of ginger, 25 pounds of garlic bulbs, 4 pounds of hazelnut, 1000 lemons, 500 oranges, and 253 pounds of honey. From his barons, Thurzo demanded, among other things, 36 bulls, 118 calves, 103 sheep, 58 lambs, 119 pigs, 185 rabbits, 526 geese, 381 capons, 785 chickens, 420 ducks, 5,333 eggs, 1,600 trout, countless crayfish, and 35 carts of oats. And the wedding of Ferenc and Erzsébet was likely similar—perhaps even larger—than this.
Commentators mention that Erzsébet chose to retain her maiden name rather than take her husband’s, citing the fact that hers was older and more prestigious. They go on to say that Ferenc even added her name to his own, thus becoming Ferenc Báthory-Nádasdy. Documents from the period indicate that Countess Báthory signed correspondence, as well as her last will and testament, in her own name. Her contemporaries, however, did not always acknowledge the Báthory surname—nor did her husband. In public addresses and court documents, she was typically referred to as “Lady Nádasdy” or, in later years, “Lady Widow Nádasdy.” Letters, as well as a portrait of Ferenc, lists his name not as Báthory-Nádasdy but as Ferenc Nádasdy or Ferenc Nádasdy de Nádasd et Fogarasföld.
Both Ferenc and Erzsébet inherited their parents’ vast properties, generating enormous wealth for the new couple. Collectively, they would own thousands of acres of land throughout various counties, along with dozens of towns and more than 20 castles across present-day Hungary, Slovakia, Austria, Romania, and the Czech Republic, including: Lánzser, Léka (or Lockenaus, the burial place of Tamás and Orsolya Nádasdy) and Sopronkeresztúr in present-day Austria; Beckó (Beckov), Csejthe (including castle and 17 villages), Csicsva, Dévény, Nagybicse, Rozgony, and Varannó in Slovakia and the Czech Republic; Fogaras, Somlyó, and Szátmar in present-day Romania; and Buják, Egervár, Füzér, Kapuvar, Nagyecsed, Nagykanizsa, Onod, and Sárvár in present-day Hungary. In a short time, in fact, they would possess more wealth than the King of Hungary.
8
THE EARLY YEARS OF MARRIAGE (1575-1585)
It is hard to know the exact relationship between Ferenc and Erzsébet, except from what we learn through witness testimony and the couple’s correspondence. By all accounts, Erzsébet was a good wife and mother, at least publicly. With the exception of her alleged pre-marital indiscretion, she did nothing to raise eyes in the early years of her marriage. She attended official functions with her husband, publicly practiced religion, gave money to the poor, protected widows, and even assisted with the administration of health care for her staff and surrounding villagers. Based on her own letters, we know of several instances where she intervened on behalf of destitute women, including one whose husband was captured by the Turks and another whose daughter was raped and impregnated. In fact, György Thurzó, later Palatine of Hungary and the man who would someday apprehend the “Bloody Countess,” commented to one of his own daughters that she “should be more like” Erzsébet.
In 1578, three years after their wedding, Ottoman Turks were again conducting open raids across the countryside. Mindful that Ferenc’ father, Tamás, had betrayed both Szapolyai and the Turks, the younger Nádasdy now set about refortifying the family properties and collecting an army in preparation to meet the enemy. He had prepared for this moment his entire life, and the thrill of finally riding off to battle must have been exhilarating for him. Ferenc, together with his military comrades, Zrínyi, Erdödy, Batthyányi, and Palffy, would come to be known as the “unholy quintet,” and clash repeatedly with the Turks over the years. Ferenc would soon earn the title, “High Stable Master” in 1587, as well as “The Black Bey” (a Turkish title, meaning “chieftan” or “lord”) and “The Black Knight of Hungary” from his enemies. In his role as Captain of the Hungarian Army, he would eventually spend his entire life engaged in warfare against the Ottoman Turks.
For his 18-year-old wife, however, Ferenc’ departure left her alone for long periods of time in the huge family home at Sárvár. The couple had not yet had children, and Sárvár, by all accounts, continued to be well staffed and well run. Until she fully established herself as mistress of the house and chief administrator of the vast estates in her husband’s absence, she probably had little to do.
Commentators suggest that, during this time, Erzsébet made frequent trips to visit her bisexual aunt, Klara, with whom she learned witchcraft, torture, and how to make love to women. Given Klara’s estimated date of birth some time around the early 1520’s, she would have been nearly 60 years old now in an age when few people survived to 50. We are not certain if she was even alive at this point, but would have at least been in her waning years. How instructive she was to her young niece is questionable, if the stories are true at all.
While Erzsébet’s aunt is reputed to have practiced witchcraft, we also know that many women accused of such during the period were actually practitioners of folk art and herbal medicine. Such practices were not limited to the peasantry or so-called “forest witches,” but popular amongst the nobility, as well. Ironically, folk medicine was fairly tolerated during Erzsébet’s time; some years later, during the witchhunts that blazed across Europe, such practices would come under intense scrutiny.
Commentators also suggest that a bored Erzsébet spent her free time e
ngaging in sexual horseplay with male servants, particularly a man named István Jezorlay. However, in the legions of trial documents and testimony of approximately three hundred servants and eyewitnesses, no emphasis is placed on any sort of repeated or blatant sexual misconduct on the part of Erzsébet. Only one witness, in fact—Janós Felon—accused her of having an affair once with a young soldier and servant, Vitus Trombitás, before he was killed at the front fighting for Ferenc Nádasdy. This is not to say that Erzsébet never engaged in illicit activities; however, if she did, she and her servants were exceptionally discreet. Even when under lock and key years later, her servants both past and present probably still feared her. However, many servants were no longer in her direct employ by then and, during the last round of depositions, knew that she had little hope of ever being released. Thus, apart from fear or healthy respect, they had little to lose by disclosing past misdeeds. The fact that they said so little on the matter, particularly in an age when women, in general, were routinely accused of sexual misconduct or some form of witchcraft—no matter the main charge—is significant.
Also significant is that the four accomplices who participated in the most heinous deeds near the end of Erzsébet’s life—all of whom had their testimony extracted under torture—made no mention of sexual misconduct on her part either. Witnesses, particularly amongst the Sárvár staff, do mention that certain portions of Sárvár Castle were under guard and that access was forbidden. Nevertheless, the witnesses believed that such secret chambers were used for torturing servants rather than illicit sex play.
Infamous Lady: The True Story of Countess Erzsébet Báthory Page 4
