Infamous Lady: The True Story of Countess Erzsébet Báthory (5 page)

BOOK: Infamous Lady: The True Story of Countess Erzsébet Báthory
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      In Erzsébet’s time, the castle at Sárvár was approached by a long rampart and surrounded by a moat as wide as a river. The town and castle sat amidst wetlands with a few homes situated on boggy islands that accommodated staff. In the summer, the stench of swamp water, along with clouds of mosquitoes, plagued the residents, while biting insects tormented the horses in their stables. It is no wonder that, in the future, Erzsébet would typically spend summers at her other estates, preferring to reside at Sárvár court only in the colder months of winter. The young Countess was probably used to these conditions, however; her own family estate at Ecsed also sat amidst its share of bogs, marshes, and wetlands.

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 8
th
, 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 meet 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.

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