Like other clergymen in his situation, the elderly pastor at Csejthe, 90-year-old Rev. András Barosius (Berthoni), was concerned over the Countess’ bizarre and repeated requests for funerals. When his questions went unanswered, he began to keep a record of the bodies, and this document eventually made its way into the hands of both Palatine and King. Erzsébet had dealt with this type of situation before at Sárvár, under Pastor Magyari. In those days, however, Ferenc Nádasdy was there to protect her. Whether through charm, reputation or bribery, the Count had always managed to extricate himself and his wife from harm, appeasing the clergy every time questions arose over mysterious deaths.
Now, however, the Countess was on her own. And this time, the clergy was beginning to speak out and stand up to her wherever the killings were taking place. At Keresztúr, for example, where girls had been killed at Erzsébet’s estate, Pastor Pyrethräus (or Pythiräus or Piterius) flatly refused to bury the continuous stream of maidens who had died of “unknown and mysterious causes.” Despite the Countess’ threats, he stood his ground. In return, she ordered her servants to bury the girls secretly at night in the town cemetery.
At Csejthe, Pastor Barosius updated his in-coming successor, Reverend János Ponikenusz, on the strange events and rumors going on there, as well. Ponikenusz was also made aware of his predecessor’s continuous arguments with the Countess over the death of so many young girls. Each time the elderly man tried to speak up, the Countess would snap, “Do not ask how they died. Just bury them!”
Intimidated, Pastor Barosius complied, but he began drawing up his report and documenting all of the bodies that had been buried in secret. In one entry that shocked even György Thurzó, the pastor wrote that on a single night he had buried no less than nine virgins, all of whom had died of the same “unknown and mysterious causes.”
When Ponikenusz took over at Csejthe, he decided to see for himself what was happening. Following up on a rumor, he went down to explore a series of underground tunnels that connected the church and castle. The Countess and her staff used these tunnels for storage where they housed heirlooms, Ottoman treasures, wines, and documents. Along with the crypt of Count Kristóf Orságh, one-time owner of Csejthe Castle, Rev. Ponikenusz found something else far more ghastly. Amidst what he described as “an unbearable stench,” he discovered nine unsealed boxes that contained the remains of recently mutilated girls.
Upon discovering the bodies in the tunnels, he hurried back to the church to write a letter to his superior, the Very Rev. Élias Lányi: “Oh such terrible deeds,” he wrote, “such unheard of cruelties! In my opinion there has never existed a worse killer under the sun. But I must not go on, for my heart is bleeding and I cannot speak any more.”
Ponikenusz attempted to send the letter, but it was promptly intercepted by the Countess’ staff. Upon learning that the letter had been captured, he feared the worst for himself and tried to escape out of town. Castle staff went after him, however, and sent him back to the church with a stern warning. The bodies, meanwhile, were taken away to Leseticz for burial, according to witness, Tamás Zima.
It was at this point that Ponikenusz began plotting how to get his letters, as well as his own newly-found information from Pastor Barosius’ disturbing report, to the authorities without being discovered. Ponikenusz evidently figured out how to do it, and the report was secretly delivered to Palatine György Thurzó. It is likely that a second copy was also delivered to King Mátyás II, for it is the King who specifically demanded an investigation into allegations that had reached his Court regarded certain “inhuman and ferocious acts” of Erszébet Báthory. The King was especially displeased that some of these acts had been committed against daughters of the nobility. As Palatine, György Thurzó had full authority to act in the King’s name and was ordered to convene an investigation.
For Thurzó, this must have been delicate: he had been given Ferenc Nádasdy’s deathbed request to care for the Lady Widow Nádasdy and her children. In addition to his friendship with the late Count, György Thurzó and Countess Báthory were also personally close. Correspondence indicates that they referred to each other as “cousin,” attended their respective children’s weddings and, in general, kept company together during the holidays. Countess Báthory was also cordial with Thurzó’s young wife, Erzsébet Czobor. Given her high station, he knew that it would take a special act of Parliament even to bring formal charges against the Countess. György Thurzó probably hoped to appease the King, quiet things down and then let the matter die. Letters to Erzsébet’s son-in-law, as well as public statements, indicate that Thurzó initially planned to put the Countess away in a convent. György Thurzó was not naïve, however; he also knew that the Crown had a personal interest in seeing Erzsébet Báthory convicted criminally. Should that happen, the King’s debt to her could be cancelled and, possibly, her lands ceded to him.
It is difficult to truly understand Thurzó’s relationship with the Countess: some commentators have vilified him as a man who sought only to betray and deprive her of her property. And yet, history does not bear this out: at all times, Thurzó conducted his coming dealings, albeit secret ones, with both Báthory and Nádasdy family members and, in fact, worked hard to make certain that neither King nor Church confiscated their properties. Other than protecting the interests of fellow Protestants, Thurzó does not appear to have benefited, at least financially, from his pending prosecution of the Countess.
Others have argued the opposite, claiming that Thurzó and the Countess shared a romantic relationship and that he did all in his power to protect her. Yet history does not demonstrate this fully, either: as Lord Palatine, Thurzó had a job to do, and both Monarchy and Parliament were watching him carefully. While, without question, he worked tirelessly to spare the Countess from the death penalty, Thurzó ultimately sentenced her to life imprisonment. He also testified in court as to having caught her in the act of torturing and murdering servants, declared publicly that she did not deserve to breathe air or see light, and referenced her with epithats such as, “wild animal,” “bestial,” “damned,” “bloody,” “godless,” and “cursed”; hardly the words or actions of a lover.
We do know, however, that Thurzó placed his confidence in the Hapsburgs as the only force viable enough to conquer the marauding Turks. While the Transylvanians maintained a relative form of independence from both Hapsburgs and Turks, their loyalties swayed back and forth between the two opposing forces depending on their own self-interests. Erzsébet Báthory’s relatives, Voivods of Transylvania, were now advocating a rebellion against the Hapsburgs and a new alliance with the Turks. This made Thurzó nervous. In 1608, Erzsébet began financing her cousin, Gábor, placing her in a dangerous position; her loyalty to the Crown was now at question. Prior to this, her brother István Báthory had educated and raised Gábor at his court and, upon Count Báthory’s death, also left the young man with considerable wealth and weaponry.
Thurzó truly believed that Erzsébet’s cousins, Gábor and Zsigmond, were stirring up a dangerous form of trouble that would ultimately threaten the interests of Hungarian landlords and nobles like himself; Gábor Báthory, in fact, would soon declare war on the Hapsburgs. And Erzsébet made it clear, on more than one occasion, that she supported her cousins against the King. That said, there was motivation on Thurzó’s part, whether personally or as Palatine of Hungary, to curtail the power of the Báthory family in the interest of the nation.
The year 1610 began with a wedding. Erzsébet’s daughter, Katalin, was set to marry Lord György Drugeth de Homonnay on January 6th. 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 5th, 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:
….At your command, I sent my most loyal, main men and servants to Csejthe so that Mrs. Nádasdy can remain there in peace, as we have all agreed with you—also, so that no harm will come to the property and that the Royal Treasury cannot assess anything against it and, above all, so that no further injustice will be added to the family…. However, I would like to remind you that we have not yet agreed concerning the allocation of property—indeed, it may not even happen quickly, and I would object to that. I do not know in which way Your Grace will decide; in any case, I am convinced that I am to receive an equal share along with the other relatives, and I also want the same part of the property on this side as well as the other side of the Danube. I am aware of Your Grace’s benevolence certainly and, in my heart, I hope that you are pleased with my advantage….
Infamous Lady: The True Story of Countess Erzsébet Báthory Page 12
