Countess Dracula (13 page)

On the first Sunday of Advent past, during the evening service when I was explaining the lesson, a person named Andrew Priderovi
ć
– a living instrument of the Devil – dared to contradict me publicly – did I say ‘me'? – dared to oppose the pure Holy Spirit itself, saying aloud to a student standing next to him: ‘Does this priest preach the truth? I do not understand!' The student answered him holding the New Testament before him: ‘Behold! See the text itself.' He left the church spouting all kinds of evil words. On the following day a certain nobleman, who was betrothed [or ‘at a betrothal ceremony'], for no reason greeted me thus – pardon me for using these words – ‘You are a rascal, a bastard, I will drag you out of this parish by the scruff of your neck like a dog.' I protested and left, and in accordance with the decision of the Synod in Žilina reported the case to the superior authorities, who promised me protection.
⁹

This glimpse of the tensions in the local congregations and the bullying behaviour of nobles may be an example of provocation by rival Calvinists, or else is part of a personal feud between Elisabeth and her agents and her Lutheran enemies. (It was Count Thurzó who had
personally convoked the Žilina synod to establish Lutheran privileges and agree procedures for the new faith.) Ponikenus then exults:

But behold, beyond all expectations – my good Lord! – what has happened! It is at once miraculous and evil. Our Jezebel (my meaning is Elisabeth Báthory) has had just punishment for her misdeeds. She was incarcerated. She was put into a stone-walled prison for ever. What should I add to that? (I believed that it was my official duty to invite some of my fellow-priests to console her with prayers and to protect her from temptation [presumably the temptation to take her own life].)

No sooner had we saluted her and expressed our pity at her case but she said straightaway: ‘You two pastors, you are the reason for my imprisonment.'

Reverend Zacharias, the pastor from Lešetice, offered excuses in Hungarian which she accepted and she became calmer saying to us, ‘You are not the reason, but the parson of
Č
achtice certainly is. For he fulminated against me in each of his sermons.'
¹⁰

The power of sermons must not be underestimated; these were the means of disseminating news, opinions or propaganda, but also gave the opportunity for clerics to mesmerise, entertain and terrify their parishioners with their eloquence. Comparisons with the power of the modern mass media are not necessarily facile or overstated. Among the non-Magyar populations of the Kingdom of Hungary, the local priests and their rhetoric had another vital function: they began to legitimise the people's language. Before the Reformation the Slav dialects of Upper Hungary had been ignored or forbidden, but with their use in church they began to be written down, then standardised and codified.

We can imagine the situation in
Č
achtice where the Lutheran priests trod a wary path between defending the serfs whose language they conversed in, appeasing Lady Nádasdy their local patron, and sometimes acting as spies for their ultimate master, the Palatine.

Reverend Zacharias answered: ‘Do not believe that, Madam!' The woman said, ‘I can even prove that with witnesses!' I said, ‘I was preaching the Gospel and, Madam, whenever your conscience felt itself pricked, it was not because of me, for I never mentioned you by name.' The prisoner answered: ‘You, you must die first, then Sir
Megyery. You two are the reason for my grievous imprisonment. Do you not think that it will provoke turmoil? East of the Tisza an uprising will start and soon they will be here. Even the Duke of Transylvania will take revenge for the injustice done me.'
¹¹

The writer is tactful enough to substitute the title ‘Duke'
(dux)
for the ‘Prince'
(princeps)
by which Elisabeth's nephew was honoured in Transylvania: this very issue of titles had enraged Thurzó in his negotiations with Gábor Báthory. The Tisza was the river which separated the politically unstable counties of eastern Hungary from the mainly loyal Habsburg dominions of the west. After this devastating suggestion of treason – a capital crime – on the part of the Lady, Ponikenus hints at the existence of co-conspirators before turning abruptly to a more sinister:

I discovered what she said in Hungarian from my interpreters only at home. But she never mentioned who she was going to entrust with the task of requesting the army. Nor did she name the person whose idea it was. I believe she trusted in the service of those whom she asked for help when she was captured. Much has recently been brought to light; what must be taken into account most especially and above all, is what happened this year [sic], before the twenty-ninth of December, 1610. Before she was caught she had lost a superstitious prayer which had been given her by the tenant-farmer's wife [Erzsi Majorosné] from Myjava. When she missed it she sent her steward to the woman and asked him to write it down immediately as he heard it from her and to bring it to her. The woman, who was an adept in witchcraft, did not want to say it at once, but timed it for midnight. Then she went out, and looking at the stars and the motion of the clouds prayed with the following words, asking the steward to record them:

‘God help! God help! You little cloud! God help little cloud! God grant, God grant health to Elisabeth Báthory. Send, send me little cloud, ninety cats, I command you, who are the lord of the cats. Command them and gather them wherever they are, whether beyond the mountains, or beyond the waters or the sea, gather those ninety cats and send them away to bite King Matthias' heart, to bite my lord Palatine's heart, and let them eat
the heart of the red Megyery, and Moses Cziráky's heart, too, so that Elisabeth Báthory may come to no harm! Holy Trinity do these things!'

According to confessions, this and others similar have been written down and kept by the steward. See, Reverend Sir, how the Devil makes his subjects blind and by what means he leads them astray. Before the steward returned with the bewitching words (she commanded him under penalty of beheading to write down accurately the words of the tenant-farmer's wife and bring them to her) the Lady had already been led to the castle.
¹²

Cloud-conjuring formulae seem to have been particularly common, perhaps because at certain times it was easy to predict changes in the weather and then claim credit for them. Elisabeth's incantation is also notable for mixing Christian sentiment with pagan superstition in the manner of Caribbean voodoo or
santeria.
¹³

Ponikenus continues: ‘A man whose name was Torkos, and who used to live a mile from Sárvár, gave this advice to her: Choose one black hen, beat it with a white stick, keep its blood and use it against your enemies in this way; if you touch with the blood your enemies or their clothes, they will not harm you . . .'
¹⁴
He underlines the pernicious prevalence of witchcraft, a Protestant obsession which led his church's rivals, the Calvinists, to mount wholesale pogroms among the country's peasantry later in the sixteenth century:

You can judge my Reverend Lord what a sinful soul is within this paragon of evil! But she still places her hopes in the county court, and is still blaming the Lutheran priests for her disaster, just as the local people are saying that the Lutheran priests have caused this scandal.

Yesterday we had much difficulty with her. Reverend Zacharias asked her: ‘Do you believe in Christ who was born and died and rose for you and won the remission of your sins?'

‘Even Peter the Smith [the personification of the simplest rustic] knows that!' she said. Reverend Zacharias wanted to give her a prayerbook, but she refused to take it: ‘I do not need it.' Then I asked her: ‘I wished to know, who was it who said to you that I was the cause of your trouble?' ‘I am not obliged to answer to your question. Now you are furious with me, soon you will
have twofold cause to be angry.' But I said, ‘I am not angry, but I should like to be fair, and make it clear that I am not the cause of your imprisonment.' Then she said again: ‘I was the patron – like a mother – to your priests, from the smallest to the highest one, I have never done anything against them, neither the slightest not the highest, I have done nothing even against you yourself.' I asked her to remember me always with good feelings, because I pray always to God for her prosperity and to grant mercy to her for her sins. She answered: ‘Praying to God for the prosperity of others is always praiseworthy behaviour.'

We can picture Elisabeth's furious sarcasm in the face of the pastor's pious condescension and nervous bumpkin manners. Then Ponikenus pauses, fearful that his message might be intercepted: ‘We were discussing in this way, but the subject is more fit to speak of in words and not to be written in a letter. But I was writing this because I want the three old women and the young Ficzkó to be questioned, who were carried from her to Byt
č
a, I want them to confess their sins, how much they enjoyed the killing, and what else they have done . . .' Here is the ostensible reason for the letter: to ensure that the truly guilty individuals will be brought to book.

We heard from those maids who are still living that they were forced to eat their own flesh, which was fried on an open fire. The flesh of other maids was chopped and mashed, as with mushrooms in the preparation of a meal, and was cooked and served to young men who knew not what they were eating. Oh Thyestean banquet! Oh what brutality! I think there were no greater executioners under the sun than they were. But I must hold my feelings, I can write no more of it for the pain of my soul is so great.

Cannibal feasts were a staple of the horror-folklore of the time, and were probably based on historical fact. As well as the roasting of the rebel Dózsa on an iron throne, anyone living in Hungary at that time would probably have heard of the Tatar Khan's treatment of envoys from Hungary that was reported by Edward Barton, the English ambassador to Constantinople in 1593:

This Prince of the Tartars is sayd lately to have taken sixe Hungarish spyes, whom calling before him, he commanded presently three of them to be rosted in the presence of their fellowes, and calling his captaines about him caused them all to eat part of the said rosted spyes . . . and cutting off the noses and ears of the other three spyes, had them returne and report what they had seene . . .
¹⁴

The Vicar of
Č
achtice's thoughts turned to his own vulnerability:

However I have too many enemies, therefore I have to ask your protection my Reverend Lord, pray for me to our Lord and please ask his Lordship [Thurzó] to take me under his protection, because I am afraid that Lord Homonnay or the son of the lady or her daughters will attack me. Although I am sure that Elisabeth Báthory was already killing maidens ten years ago, because in the time of my predecessor, Andrew Berthoni, maids were buried in the church at night, which is well known by the inhabitants of
Č
achtice. Even Stephen Magyari, who died eight years ago, warned the lady in his speech publicly, and this is also well known in her court among the servants who are still living. I have spoken the truth.

Rejoice in our Lord

Č
achtice, the first day of January 1611.
         Jan Ponikenus, priest and senior

At the end of his letter Ponikenus has not managed to unburden himself of all that he has to express. Before the message is sent, he takes up his pen again:

P.S.
The paper was not able to hold all that I wished to let you know, although I do not wish to abuse your patience, but you must be aware of the following: in the last days of December, when I returned from the castle and sent home my priestly brothers from Lešete and Vrbové, I was thinking upon my sermon. Then I took supper, after it I prayed with my servants, and then I went back to my study. Shortly my wife came to me and we were discussing these horrible matters. Suddenly I heard cats mewing on the upper floor, I can explain it clearly in my
own language . . . [here Ponikenus switches to Slovak]
¹⁵
. . . so that voice was not a normal miaow, I went after the voice and ordered my servant, ‘Jano, if you see any cat, just beat it!' But we found no cat. My servant said: ‘There are mice in the storeroom.' I checked the said place, but there was no cat in there. But when I was descending the staircase, straightaway six cats and dogs were biting my legs. ‘Get you to hell!' I shouted and they disappeared so soon that my servant did not see them. See, my Reverend, this was a game of the Devil.

The presence that had terrified him was presumably that of the ninety cats and their canine allies. It is not clear whether Ponikenus could see them, or merely felt their teeth, but the Protestant clergy firmly believed that evil was tangible – Luther himself saw the Devil sitting on a wall and mocking him.

On Christmas Eve Majorosné was bathing the lady using several herbs, and as I heard, they wanted to bake bread using that water. They wanted to bake that bread for their enemies.

So the devil was caught in his own trap. You will hear other things from others, but pray God with me to help us against our enemies. God be with us!

The said Majorosné, as I have heard, has withered.

Ponikenus himself says that the purpose of this hasty communication is to ‘investigate well those servants taken to Byt
č
a': singling them out and taking for granted their guilt, as he does here, must have helped to seal their fate, as well as making Erzsi Majorosné's death inevitable. (His closing words, the reference to that woman's ‘withering', are obscure, but suggest some form of divine retribution: ‘wasting away' was a common description applied all over Europe to the victims both of sorcery and of God's punishment of it.) But his letter concentrates rather on the sins of their mistress and indicts her for mass-murder, sorcery and high treason – three separate capital charges. It is no wonder that Ponikenus appeals to the Palatine for protection.