Countess Dracula

by Tony Thorne

  Nicholas Barosius, the priest of Vrbové village, said that he had seen girls suffering from injuries both at the castle and at the manor-house in Čachtice. He also asserted that Countess Báthory had threatened that, if she was imprisoned, Gábor Báthory, the Prince of Transylvania, would come and rescue her.

  The next to give evidence was John Sl’uka, a member of the minor gentry, also from Vrbové, who had been named the previous year as the person sent to obtain poisons from the pharmacist at Trnava. He confirmed this and said that the substance was antimony, and that the supplier, Dr Martin, had asked him what such a large quantity was needed for because it could kill many people.

  The name of the ninetieth witness is already familiar to us from the secret letter sent by Pastor Ponikenus at the time of Elisabeth’s arrest:5 this was Andrew Priderović, who was listed as a squire from the village of Čachtice. Priderović said that he had been present at the manor-house when the Countess had been taken away to the castle to be imprisoned. He also said that he had seen for himself the body of a young girl being loaded into a coach. He had heard from others, and the doctor could verify, that one girl’s corpse had been seen with traces of rope marks around the neck and marks of mutilation on the rest of her body. A woman had also been bound because she had refused to allow her daughter to be taken away, and another girl had wounds in her body so deep that a whole fist could be placed in them. The injuries looked as if they had been made by the tongs used in torturing.

  John Jeleň, also a squire from Čachtice, said that he had seen three young girls who had been carried to Lešetice for burial and two others who had been buried at Kostol’any. One of these two maidens was from Trnava and the other was from the Nitra region (he did not name them). John Andačy, one of the Čachtice castle wardens, repeated the story of the murders at the time of George Drugeth’s wedding. He added that a girl who had been mutilated was treated by the surgeon from Nové Mesto nad Váhom. Another of the castle wardens, a second Michael Horváth, referred to the occasion on which dogs dug up bodies from a small garden near the manor-house: he asserted that seven maidens had been buried there.

  The ninety-seventh witness to be examined was the target of Andrew Priderović’s anger, Jan Abrahamides Ponikenus himself, the priest of Čachtice who had supplied details of the Lady’s atrocities in a letter to his superior in the last days of the previous year. On this occasion Ponikenus, after giving his age as thirty-eight and stating that he had been in his post at Čachtice for eight years, said that during his incumbency he had heard many dreadful things concerning the Widow Nádasdy. He said that he had heard from a servant who had been ‘in the place where the doomed girls were sent to recover’. This servant had spied on the goings-on in these quarters through a crack in the wooden panelling and had seen a group of crones holding lighted candles ‘gathered around the stomach of a naked woman’. Ponikenus’ informant had no inkling, he said, of what the old women were up to.

  It was the following witness who supplied details of cannibalism: the squire Martin Čanády stated that Elisabeth Báthory murdered the sister of squire John Belanský when the young woman was at her court. She also murdered squire George Tuchinský’s daughter. He knew also that she put a hot iron bar into the genitals of a girl who was the daughter of Benedict the barber-surgeon, the brother of John Čápový (referred to elsewhere as Čáfordý and Čápový), the castle warden at Beckov. What is more, he had knowledge that the lady had sausages made from the flesh of dead girls and served them at meals. George Kéry of Beckov confirmed the cruel murders of the daughters of Belanský and Tuchinský, as did several other witnesses, and George Szombathy of Beckov, one of Daniel Pongrácz’s administrators, declared that Tuchinský had told him that Báthory had cruelly killed his daughter and buried her at Kostol’any.

  Dorothy, the wife of George Stankovský of Beckov, said that she knew that one Anna Velika had brought the daughter of Benedict Barbel, the sister of Čápový, alias Szabó, the Beckov castle warden, whom she had tortured. The victim was named as Anna by a later witness, the magistrate George Tarnócy, who also said that Báthory had used a heated iron bar to torture.

  Peter Szabó, a local official from Beckov, said that he had seen with his own eyes a number of girls suffering from many wounds and bruises. He had heard that Nicholas Kardoss’ wife (someone mentioned by several other witnesses) had brought two girls for the Countess. John Kun, who served Francis Mágóchy at Beckov, said that his kinsman Sándor Kun, who was the court master at the Nádasdy manor-house in Čachtice, told him that girls were made to sit in baths of scalding water and that the Countess tore their flesh from their shoulders and dislocated their arms.

  Several other women testified, among them Dorothy Jezernická, wife of Francis Bárdy, a squire. She claimed that in 1590 she sent her own daughter Elisabeth to Countess Báthory’s court and that Báthory cruelly murdered the girl. Frusina Latkócy, another squire’s wife, stated that she had frequently seen with her own eyes young women suffering from weakness and wounds and covered with bruises at the Nádasdy court. All the remaining witnesses either referred to or repeated the information given by others.

  Several questions immediately arise in connection with this evidence. Why, if they were still living (which is not certain), were the bereaved fathers, the nobles Belanský and Tuchinský, not called to testify in person? The answer may be that they both lived in Liptov county, which was not wholly under George Thurzó’s direct control. Additionally, it is vital to remember that only the lesser nobility could be called upon to appear before a court without an order from the King himself. If these men were of the rank of Pongrácz, Mágóchy or Megyery, for example, they, like those notables and like other named aristocrats – Zichy, Sittkey and the rest – could never be summoned.

  Why was Dorothy Jezernická allowed to accuse the Countess of murdering her daughter without being required to go into more detail about the circumstances? And why did Pastor Ponikenus, who in his letter had been so prolific in describing the horrors inflicted by the Lady, say so little, giving only the second-hand account of the women hovering over a naked body (explained by Elisabeth’s defenders today as a healing or gynaecological process), leaving it to his fellow-witness Martin Canády to make the only mention of cooking and eating human flesh, and to his fellow-priest Barosius to impute disloyalty to the crown?

  Two other points have been overlooked by previous commentators. Andrew Priderović is one of the only witnesses in all the hearings whose name has come down to us in another context.6 He was the person who angrily disrupted the Lutheran sermon given by Ponikenus in December 1610, a man whom the priest characterised as ‘an instrument of the Devil’. It seems certain that Priderović was close to the Countess (he may have actually been dining with her at the manor-house when the raid took place) and had been intimidating her enemies, the local Lutherans, on her behalf. Yet now her own man was prepared to echo the accusations against his Lady, quoting hearsay but even adding his own eyewitness account for good measure. Of course Priderović may have been a craven liar or even a double agent, but a more plausible explanation is that he, like so many other witnesses who had formerly been part of her circle, had been coerced by threats, torture or bribes into testifying against Elisabeth.

  The last comment to append to this batch of testimonies is to note that Pastor Ponikenus spoke no Hungarian, which means that interpreters or translators must have played a part in the transcription of confessions. As well as proving that not all the citizens of Upper Hungary were multilingual, as is sometimes claimed today, this goes some way to explaining the many inconsistencies and confusions in the written records of the proceedings.

  It was during February that Count Zrínyi and Paul Nádasdy wrote to Thurzó with their pleas for a resolution which would combine mercy for Elisabeth with the least shame for the families.7

  On 26 February 1611, King Matthias again wrote to Thurzó to insist that a proper trial be held; he wanted a formal arraignment
and a properly constituted interrogation.8 On 5 March, Thurzó promised that ‘the affair of great importance concerning Mistress Nádasdy’ would be brought before the justices of the country in the following spring, between 8 and 22 March, suddenly agreeing disingenuously that ‘it should be brought to a conclusion and examined according to the legal regulations of the country’.9

  Matthias sent a new message on 18 March in which he ignored the Palatine’s assurances and inquired about Thurzó’s compliance with his (Matthias’) previous letter, instructing Thurzó to bring Countess Báthory before the tabular court in Bratislava forthwith.10 It is quite clear that the King was still not prepared to be worn down by Thurzó’s delaying tactics and pettifogging, but if Thurzó did not dare to countermand the King’s decrees, Matthias knew that to brush aside his vice-regent’s arguments and overrule him would bring him into open conflict with the Magyar lords. The Palatine did not reply at once, but on 23 March he sent a letter in which he discusses the threat from Prince Gábor Báthory without mentioning the case of the Prince’s aunt at all.11 He returns to the case in a letter written on 30 March in which he admits that, despite previous reports, the formal trial proceedings had not been initiated for several good reasons, which in his opinion were not profitable to debate (he nevertheless went on to discuss them).12 Thurzó – a man well versed in law and holder of the country’s highest legal office – suggested that he had done his best in accordance with the customs of the land in managing the affair and was in agreement with the treasury counsellors, who themselves had agreed with the justices of the country, arguing that he had foregone ‘proper’ procedure and had not formally summonsed the accused because, once in custody, the prisoner should be considered as legally dead, and thus could not be arraigned. Thurzó added that the court had recessed for Easter, that not enough evidence had yet been collected and in addition that crimes of this nature were so rarely committed by women that it was not clear under whose jurisdiction they fell or what the proper punishment was. With all this in mind he respectfully pressed the King to accept his pronouncement of permanent loss of liberty upon Elisabeth.

  Some of these novel and contradictory interpretations were set out, only slightly more coherently, in the letter from the Hungarian Royal Treasury (the Fiscus) in Bratislava to the King in Vienna, dated 31 March 1611:

  Taking into consideration the several obstacles from the point of view of common law and the customs of the land, we have determined that this trial does not belong simply and properly within the jurisdiction of the Royal Treasury. And the reasons for this are the following: From the examination which was commenced by the notaries, of which they report that they have begun but not yet concluded, nothing of obvious guilt can be ascertained, and for this reason the work of the Treasury would be in vain. In any case, regarding the simple homicide [the killing of a commoner or commoners] that she had committed, an act meriting punishment, and also in the murdering of noble persons, which should be punished in your Highness’ courts by the loss of one’s head, this is not the affair of the Treasury but of the parties concerned to debate and to commence a trial, and it is possible we fear that a possible compromise between the relatives of the murdered person would be much simpler for the accused than with the Treasury’s representative, and that is why the Treasury would have been excluded from the negotiations and from such a compromise.13

  In practice the punishment meted out to nobles in serious cases usually consisted of the loss of one’s properties or of one’s head, rarely both, and might even be a question of choice by the accused. Not mentioned by Thurzó himself or by the Fiscus is the fact that anyone putting a senior aristocrat on trial on such grave charges would risk ruin or even conceivably execution themselves if the case were lost and counter-charges brought.

  Even if the Treasury became involved in this affair, it could not hope for any great gain. The Treasury would receive the third part remaining after separating the part to be given to the sons and daughters according to the second part of the Sixtieth Article from the wealth of the person who is condemned to lose their head, and because the remaining two parts should be given to the judge who is his excellency the Palatine himself.

  It seems likely that at this stage George Thurzó still had hopes of grabbing some of Elisabeth’s wealth for himself, either by way of an eventual trial, or by blackmailing the family members into giving up some of their shares. The first option was risky, and hopes of the second option must have faded after the heirs had stood firm. But the threat of a trial would still bring the sons-in-law to heel, and Thurzó could offer to let them keep the properties in return for acquiescing in her neutralising.

  However, it is probable that even this small gain would not be granted to the Treasury as the above-mentioned Mistress Nádasdy, her ladyship, as it is said, some years ago resigned from her estates and wealth and gave them to her son and all her rights she also gave to her son. Now as a prisoner and in captivity, she possesses nothing and in reality she does not enjoy the income from her estates, which means that even if she were declared to be guilty, she could forfeit nothing, but the Royal Treasury would likewise have no advantage of it. Thus the effort and labour invested in this matter and all the other expenditure and monies devoted to the matter would be quite in vain. Nonetheless, besides, it is within the power of your Majesty to decide the further fate of the accused person, but even regarding this we could not achieve a more favourable outcome, even if his Majesty were to order that the accused, who is in any case in the custody of her judges, should be brought before the Diet and after the consideration of her guilt and the sentence of the Diet, should be punished after arraignment according to the second part of the Seventy-fifth Article. For until now we have not had the opportunity to arraign her before a court, in part because of the lack of time, partly because the notaries have not publicly announced the interrogation, and of course, have not concluded it. As all those judges and persons in your Majesty’s court are of the opinion that the Royal Treasury have nothing to gain, it is up to your Majesty’s favour or desire, whether the process be advertised and commenced against the above-mentioned lady, with the aim of pronouncing the punishment of beheading, and it is likewise your choice to decide whether to let stand the punishment according to which she should be kept in close captivity in perpetuity, in appreciation of the great deeds of her late husband, who was a great and useful servant of your Majesty, and also taking into account the great service of her sons [actually sons-in-law] and daughters. . .

  Thomas Viskelety

  Francis Loránt

  Counsellors of the Chamber

  The letter from the Treasury, which, if not actually dictated by George Thurzó, would have been drafted according to his wishes, amounts to an attempt to browbeat the King into acceding to Thurzó’s unilateral sentencing of Elisabeth. The barrage of reasons put forward to explain why a formal trial would be futile is at least partly specious; the claims that there had not been time formally to summons the accused is particularly absurd – Matthias knew well that Thurzó had been gathering evidence for more than a year. Likewise the legalistic assertion that no guilt had yet been determined, when the Palatine had already condemned the lady, whom he claimed he had caught in the act.

  The document’s intention is clearly to bolster the Palatine’s arguments as set out in his letters and to persuade Matthias that proceeding against Elisabeth will be far too troublesome, for little guaranteed reward, and will in any case risk upsetting powerful and – for the time being – loyal subjects of His Majesty. The letter incidentally confirms that the terms of Elisabeth’s will had been broadcast; it also suggests that none of the victims’ families had yet called for a trial and that no private deals had already been struck with aggrieved relatives.

  On 17 April 1611 Matthias replied from Prague, saying that he understood the views of the Palatine and of the judges.14 In recognition of the services performed by the late Francis Nádasdy, and in view of the pleas for clemency
that had been lodged by his widow’s relatives, the King was minded formally to consent to the Palatine’s verdict of incarceration for life. This was the decision that the family had prayed for and that Thurzó had schemed to achieve. But, having made this concession to his trusted ally, the King was not prepared to let the matter drop. He still insisted that proper proceedings should be started from scratch, partly because of Mistress Nádasdy’s rightful complaint (presumably Elisabeth had managed to transmit an oral or written protest from her prison, but there is no record of this), partly because of the astonishment expressed by certain (unnamed) noblemen at the violation of the rights of the nobility, and partly because the disapproval of Prince Gábor Báthory of Transylvania could be anticipated. The King refers to the improper arrest, investigation and imprisonment without trial as an ‘unspeakable, unheard of and abnormal case’, and a ‘process contrary to law’.

  At this point the to and fro of official missives stops and there is a long interval while the Palatine’s investigations followed their unhurried course. With hindsight we can see that, even if his obstructions had come perilously close to lèse-majesté, he had managed thus far to pre-empt a political trial directed from Vienna, with all its attendant threats to stability in Hungary. At the same time it was not in Thurzó’s personal interests to bring things to a conclusion; he had gambled that his own outrageous behaviour in seizing Countess Báthory would be eclipsed in the eyes of their fellow-peers by the scandal of her brutalities, but they would need time to get over this provocation. The estates had been saved, but the Palatine might still be able to stake a claim if the family showed signs of changing their loyalties.

  On 17 December 1611, nearly a year after the execution of Elisabeth’s trusted servants and the start of her imprisonment, the last round of the investigation that we know of was closed and the confessions of the final witnesses were certified. This time only twelve witnesses had been questioned, but these were mostly people of good social standing, some of whom were Elisabeth’s most senior courtiers: they came from the town of Sopron and the county of Vas, in which the western Nádasdy-Báthory estates of Sárvár, Léka and Keresztúr were situated.15