Regarding Janós Ficzkó, his age and fewer crimes somewhat lessen his punishment: he shall be beheaded, the corpse placed on the pyre, and burned together with the other two criminals. Regarding the last, Katalin, the statements of both of these two defendants, as well as some witnesses will be excused, and the statement of Janós Ficzkó alone cannot convict her: it seems to us that she should be returned to the dungeon and remain there for some time until perhaps other more clear evidence is given against her. This is our verdict on the accused, publicly pronounced and soon thereafter to be duly completed.
Given in the aforementioned market town of Bytča on the 7th of January in the year of the Lord 1611.
Theodosius Szirmay, Georg Lehotzky, Kaspar Ordody, Janós Záturetzky, Nikolaus Hrábovszky, Janós Borsitzky, judicial chair; Gabriel Hlinitzky, Assessor; Michael Prusinszky, Stephan Mársovszky, Benedikt Kozár, Nikolaus Mársovszky, Stephan Akay and Janós Medveczky, Janós St. Mariay, István Akay, Janós Draskovszky, György Záluszky, and Michael St. Mariay, also known as Hlinitzky.
. . . .
The three condemned were led that same day to the place of execution, where a crowd gathered to watch. A huge, flaming pyre was prepared near the river, while the public executioner sharpened his axe and heated his iron tongs before the crowd and the condemned. Ilona Jó was taken first. She was restrained while the executioner clamped the iron tongs onto her first finger. He wrenched it out amidst screams, not only from the condemned but from Dorka and members of the crowd. It is alleged that after her fourth finger was torn out, Ilona Jó fainted. At this point, she was probably given a fatal blow or strike and then thrown into the bonfire. Dorota apparently fainted, as well, having seen Ilona Jó’s sentence carried out; her fingers removed and the death blow delivered, she, too, was then thrown into the fire. Ficzkó went last. When the executioner’s axe came down onto his neck, severing the head, his dead body was thrown into the fire on top of the women. After sentencing was carried out, a gibbet was erected outside of Csejthe Castle to indicate that justice had been done.
During that same month of January, on the 24th , the residents of Bytča witnessed yet another satisfaction of justice. In probably what was not a very long ceremony, and no doubt lacking in formal process, the blind spinster and forest witch, the same person who made the magical cake for the Countess, was led to the place of execution. Erszi “Majorova” (also translated as “Beta, Slovak woman,” “Busorka of Myjava” or the “Mistress of Miava”) was then burned alive as a witch.
We know nothing more regarding the fate of Katalin Beneczky, the accomplice who managed to escape immediate execution. It seems that no further evidence was ever brought against her, nor a sentence carried out. Likely, after a period of time, she was quietly released.
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THE FATE OF COUNTESS BÁTHORY (1611-1614)
What was perhaps most interesting was Győrgy Thurzó’s allegation, during the proceedings, that he had caught Countess Báthory in flagrante delicto—in other words, red-handed or in the act of commiting the crime. However, when King Mátyás’ representative insisted that Erzsébet be brought in personally for interrogation, Thurzó refused:
As long as I am Lord Palatine in Hungary, this will not come to pass. The family that has won such high honors on the battlefield shall not be disgraced in the eyes of the nation by the murky shadow of this bestial female. In the interest of future generations of the Nádasdys, everything is to be done in secret for, if a court were to try her, all of Hungary would learn of her murders and it would contravene our laws to spare her life. However, having seen her crimes with my own eyes, I have had to abandon my plan to place her in a convent for the rest of her life.
For the panel of sitting judges, as well as the King’s representative, this must have seemed highly unusual: the Palatine had just accused the Countess personally, yet refused the court permission to question her? Nádasdy honor or not, the pressure on Thurzó from the King to bring Erzsébet to justice was enormous; despite this, however, he held fast, and one has to wonder why. Because of her high station, the court could not convict or sentence the Countess without confirmation from both King and Parliament. On the other hand, the justices certainly had a right to question her. Thurzó’s assertion of power here as prime minister was a bold and certainly risky move: he was essentially telling the King that, for now, he alone would control the proceedings. As we shall later see, this move was not without its complications.
One has to wonder if, indeed, Thurzó was telling the complete truth about what he had seen at Csejthe Manor and Castle. Perhaps this is what caused him to waiver here. Specifically, Thurzó, as well as the other eyewitnesses in the castle raid, all agreed to having seen dead girls and girls suffering imprisonment and torture upon their arrival. There is no doubt that Erzsébet’s four accomplices were present and participating in one way or another in the torturing and killing. Thurzó’s letter to his wife, written the following day, states: “Now, those who tortured and murdered the innocent—those evil women in league with that young lad who in silent cruelty assisted with their atrocities—were sent to Bytča.” This implies that only the four accomplices were caught in the act. It is interesting that Thurzó does not specify the Countess’ direct participation here, particularly when we know that he and his wife were wondering, just a few days prior, whether she personally harmed her servants or not. One would think that Thurzó would have finally answered that burning question without hesitation. Instead, all he said is that he had imprisoned the Widow Nádasdy in her castle tower and that: “There was another girl who’d been tortured and even others whom this cursed, bloody lady had imprisoned and went about torturing.” From the verb tense, we still cannot tell for certain if the imprisonment and torturing occurred in the present or the past—in other words, on the day in question or prior to that—or if Thurzó was yet certain, through actual observation or merely by implication, as to whether the Countess herself performed the deeds.
However, Thurzó could still allege her guilt, one way or another, with a clever legal loophole: the doctrine of respondeat superior. This legal doctrine which, in Latin, means “let the master answer” (and is sometimes called the “Master-Servant Rule”), states that the master is responsible for the actions of his or her servants. In Erzsébet’s time, if a servant harmed another’s person or property, the lord or lady could be held personally responsible and have to make good on any claims. Thus, if the Countess’ servants were caught in the act of torturing or murdering, even if Thurzó did not actually see Lady Widow Nádasdy personally involved, he could still allege her guilt vicariously through them. It may be, too, that he found an article of her clothing, still stained with blood. Of course, he might actually have caught her red-handed but, unfortunately, we cannot be sure. Thus, we speculate that Thurzó’s lingering doubt caused him to hesitate.
Indeed, throughout this time, we know that he and the Countess corresponded and that she continued to maintain her innocence. She also accused him of failing to protect her honor, claims she could hardly make had he actually caught her red-handed. While judgment against her four servants was swift and their guilt clear beyond a shadow of doubt, there appeared to be continued hesitation regarding the Countess.
Back at Castle Csejthe, still under house arrest, Countess Erzsébet Báthory embarked on a letter writing campaign to free herself. She sought both the assistance of her relative, Gábor Báthory, as well as the opportunity to put on the greatest performance of her life: namely, testifying to her own innocence. György Thurzó repeatedly denied her petitions to appear on her own behalf. Such testimony, he argued, would only further damage the family’s reputation. She, in turn, accused him of not defending her honor.
Meanwhile, Rev. Ponikenusz was so disturbed by the threats made by the Countess when he last visited her in prison, that he immediately wrote a letter to his superior, Reverend Élias Lányi. Lanyí had just served as an official in the last proceeding against the Countess’ fou
r accomplices and held the ear of the Palatine. Ponikenusz informed him of his conversation with the Countess and asked for intercession on his behalf from Palatine György Thurzó as well as Counts Zrínyi and Homonnay: “Soon I will have many enemies,” he wrote, “so I commend your venerable jurisdiction immediately and ask that His Highness deign to support me, unworthy as I am, including the Lord Homonnay as well as the mighty (Nádasdy) son or daughters, and not to refuse the protection of his power.”
When Erszébet spoke of the Hajdukes and Gábor Báthory, her cousin and Voivod of Transylvania, she was not making idle threats. He, indeed, had been gathering troops across the river—but not necessarily to rescue her. By 1610, Gábor, along with others, was inciting rebellion against King Mátyás, and it may be that Erzsébet was encouraging him to link up with those in her own lands that were displeased with the King; as mentioned, she had been financing his campaign since 1608. Staging her rescue would be a convenient flourish. Meanwhile, she continued to accuse György Thurzó of acting illegally by holding her under house arrest.
We are not exactly certain of Erzsébet’s living conditions while under house arrest or whether she spent the entire time in the underground dungeon where she was originally brought. We do know that she was kept apprised of the proceedings and that she had access to parchment, ink, and messengers so as to send and receive letters. She also had at least a few remaining loyal (or fearful) staff members in place and, as the story goes, was staging an escape plan to reach her younger cousin Gábor in Transylvania. We are not certain of how far she got with her plans. We do know, however, that György Thurzó, along with her relatives, arrived soon after the trial for a showdown with the Countess.
The Palatine was definitely not pleased with her threats to Ponikenusz or her attempted collaboration with Gábor Báthory. In addition, she had also been threatening him with the “dire consequences of his illegal actions.”
In any case, in front of her relatives, György Thurzó lost his temper. On his own authority, he pronounced sentence: “You, Erzsébet, are like a wild animal. You are in the last months of your life. You do not deserve to breathe the air on earth or see the light of the Lord. You shall disappear from this world and shall never reappear in it again. As the shadows envelop you, may you find time to repent your bestial life. I hereby condemn you, Lady of Csejthe, to lifelong imprisonment in your own castle.”
We can be sure that this did not go over well with the Countess. Thurzó had pronounced life imprisonment; all that remained now was a confirmation of the sentence. Countess Báthory immediately petitioned for an appeal and chance to defend herself. Meanwhile, Thurzó and the family hoped that with justice done to her four accomplices and the Countess sentenced, the matter would finally end. It did not. King Mátyás had no intention of letting the matter rest—or letting Countess Báthory avoid the executioner’s axe while his debt to her remained outstanding. His representative insisted on bringing yet another judicial hearing—this one directed against the Countess personally—on behalf of His Majesty the King.
The legalities were complicated; the King firmly believed that if Erzsébet received the death penalty, her property would cede to the Crown and his debts to her be cancelled. Thus, he would do everything in his power to see her dead. He was angered, in fact, that nothing had brought the death penalty upon the Countess during the two proceedings and demanded that the Lady Widow Nádasdy be interrogated immediately so as to mete out proper justice.
In a letter dated January 14, 1611, King Mátyás spoke of experiencing “serious displeasure, paralyzing fear and internal shuddering” upon learning that Widow Nádasdy killed “more than 300 innocent virgins and women, of both noble and lower levels, who served her as maids, and of whom no such action was deserved, without any involvement of the judiciary, in a most monstrous and cruel manner, their bodies mutilated, burned with hot irons, their flesh ripped out, roasted on the fire and this roasted flesh then allowed to be served.”
After declaring the need for justice, the King then demanded that the Countess be interrogated at Castle Csejthe. He issued the following order to Thurzó:
We instruct you earnestly and we give you the emergency order as soon as your receive this letter, that you immediately summon this woman Erzsébet Báthory on the said date or through dates of letters to your bondsmen and by warrant of the honorable Chapter of the Metropolitan Church of Esztergom to appear at Castle Csejthe with leave to discover and discuss her aforementioned immense and outrageous deeds and that the judgment proceed and be carried out in fulfillment of the law, whether she appears personally or sends someone or not, and warn at the front where you set the date and place that she personally or by legal representation appear before you. Your handling of the matter, however, given the insistence of the parties involved, has to be done in accordance with the law. Anything else shall not proceed.
In a postal script, the King added that he had ordered Mózes Cziráky and András of Keresztúr to “stay on to collect testimonies from all of the Nádasdy places of residence on both sides of the Danube as soon as possible….” He added that the testimony “gathered by the torture of the old women should not be neglected.” In conclusion, he ordered Thurzó to send the authenticated information to the King’s own representative.
We realize from this letter that King Mátyás no longer has complete trust in Thurzó: he independently appointed a president over a special legal council and ordered the Countess’ interrogation with no regard to the life sentence which Thurzó pronounced.
The Church was also weighing in on the matter. Catholic nobles lobbied the Hungarian Parliament in support of King Mátyás, expressing displeasure over the leniency shown by the Protestant Lord Palatine. Although some might have felt genuine moral outrage, a political agenda was also at work. The Thirty Years War (1618-1648) between Catholics and Protestants was looming. This struggle would eventually turn the region into a bloody wasteland, particularly in Germany, and signs of it were mounting. King Mátyás was a Catholic, and the Church desired a reunification of Catholic-held lands in western Hungary with those northern and eastern lands held mostly by Protestants, under Mátyás’ control. The Catholic Hapsburgs were putting down Protestant rebellions ruthlessly and taking away Protestant lands all across Austria. If the King played his cards right, he was next in line to become Emperor. Pleasing the Church meant a great deal to him—and that included securing Erzsébet Báthory’s vast holdings for the Catholic Hapsburgs.
Thurzó’s replies to the King indicated a rather awkward attempt to quibble over the legalities and complexities of the case; he was buying time, of course, and he knew it. The King was determined to get his way, however, and Thurzó needed a better strategy: life imprisonment for Lady Nádasdy would not satisfy His Majesty. But Thurzó, along with the Báthory and Nádasdy families, also realized that this was now becoming a showdown between Catholic and Protestant interests: if the King could commandeer the Báthory-Nádasdy estates, then the holdings of a Protestant like Thurzó could be next.
On a personal level, the necessary interrogation of Countess Báthory would also result in her being tortured to extract a confession. The precedent of publicly humiliating a high noble—a woman, no less—and her illustrious family could not be set. Immediately, the powerful families embarked on a letter writing campaign, aided by Thurzó, to explain to His Majesty that the interrogation and death of Lady Widow Nádasdy would not necessarily accomplish the King’s purpose; rather, Thurzó’s life sentence should remain in place.
Probably all of Erszébet’s family members, including her children and sons-in- law, by now realized that their own property rights were also at stake, so closely tied to hers. Should the King confiscate her estate, they could lose their own holdings, including inheritances and currently held lands. In addition, a public trial and execution, including disclosure of such horrific deeds, would bring unprecedented disgrace upon both families.
In a letter to György Thurzó date
d February 12, 1611, Erzsébet’s son-in-law, Miklós Zrínyi, thanked him for his “kinsman-like goodwill” and wrote:
….I have received and understood your sincere letter along with the copy of the letter from His Royal Majesty to you and the copy of your answer to it. And although with sad heart and suffering I heard the news of the shameful and miserable situation of my wife's mother, Mrs. Nádasdy - in view of her immense, shameful deeds, I must confess that, regarding a penalty, you have chosen the lesser of two evils. The judgment of Your Grace served us for the better, because it has preserved our honor and shielded us from too great a shame. When, in your letters, you made known to us the will of His Royal Majesty, including punishment by horrible, judicial torture, we, her relatives, felt that we must all die of shame and disgrace. But Your Grace, as our benign, truly beloved cousin and Lord, has prevented our shame, having imposed the best kind of punishment in perpetuo carceri inclusa delineatur and not public punishment, which would shame all of us, including her children and the memory of her pious, blessed and good, knightly husband. We want to thank Your Grace for the rest of our lives and repay you with all our available strength; we wish to offer you a humble token of our mortal existence. We ask that you, therefore, implore His Majesty to reconsider his decision so that it is in accord with your previous verdict and to be content with your judgment and not to litigate against her in public. This would, as you can imagine, cause much shame and harm to us. By God have we placed our hope in you that you and His Majesty will decide this case in our favor, as we trust you will govern. For a more detailed discussion of this matter, I send my devout servant, Mr. András Milley, to you. I ask you as my benevolent, beloved Lord and brother, to believe his words and allow him to return to me with the desired answer. Lifelong will I repay you. May God grant Your Grace long life.
Infamous Lady: The True Story of Countess Erzsébet Báthory Page 17