A couple of weeks ago I had an opportunity to detour from western Hungary and take a side trip to visit Cachtice Castle (Čachtický hrad – Slovak, Csejte vára – Magyar) in northwestern Slovakia. This was a chance I did not take. It was the second time in five years I have passed up the opportunity to visit Cachtice, the infamous castle where “the Blood Countess” Elizabeth Bathory may or may not have committed some of her worst atrocities. Bathory’s ranking as the most prolific female serial killer in history has been increasingly disputed as modern historians closely study the accusations brought against her. What is not in dispute, Bathory’s enduring infamy.
In Hungary, where due to nationalist sentiments the Countess’ reputation is usually given a more vigorous defense, legend still manages to outweigh reality. Case in point, at the restored Bathory castle in Nyirbator, Hungary the exhibits include a mock-up of the countess bathing in a tub of a young female victim’s blood, as she was said to have done in order to preserve her beautiful complexion. If the place in which Bathory was born promotes her in this way than it is easy to imagine her dreadful reputation in other areas of Hungary or across the border in Slovakia.
A Horrific Appeal, A Deadly Allure
The horrific appeal of the Elizabeth Bathory story has boosted tourism in off the beaten path places such as Nyirbator and Sarvar, Hungary, home to a fine castle where the Countess lived for many years with her husband Ferenc Nadasdy. One would think that Cachtice would be the sinister set piece at the bloody heart of Bathory fanaticism. Her crimes there were the stuff of legend. She reputedly carried out appalling acts of torture with every device imaginable on young, innocent women. While the ruined castle gets its fair share of visitors, more often than not Cachtice gets overlooked. It is on the way to nowhere in particular unless one is traveling along the western border region of Slovakia. The reason I once again decided to skip a journey to Cachtice is because it does not hold the same allure for me that it once did.
I traveled to Sarvar Castle a few years back hoping to experience some of the trepidation and fear that had drawn me to the stories of Bathory’s bloody exploits. The castle is in excellent condition, but there was nothing eerie or evocative of the Blood Countess. I did not find much mention of what may or may not have occurred there in the late 16th century. My most enduring memory of that visit was of a mother and father with their children playing together on the grassy grounds. From what I have discovered through research, Cachtice looks to be a much different and wilder experience. I still plan on traveling there in the coming years, not so much to revisit the scene of Elizabeth Bathory’s purported crimes, but instead to contemplate her last years spent in solitary confinement and the final surreal night of her life.
Convicted In The Court Of Royal Opinion
My imagined image of Castle Cachtice is of a Gothic house of horrors. A ferociously intimidating mountaintop stronghold with iron grey gates, towering bastions set amidst a supernatural scene, where earth shattering thunderstorms and massive bolts of deadly lightning strike its bastions on a nightly basis. Of course, my overactive imaginings have been unduly influenced by Dracula movies and Edgar Allen Poe stories. Historically, Cachtice did not look anything like that and the castle’s present state is one of a crumbling ruin. The peacefulness which permeates the site today is not altogether different from the final years that Elizabeth Bathory spent at Cachtice from 1611 to 1614 after she was convicted in the court of royal opinion.
The countess never stood trial. She was not given the opportunity to defend herself in a court of law to rebut the accusations against her. The powers that be at the time, including the Holy Roman Emperor Matthias and the Hungarian Palatine (equivalent to prime minster) Gyorgy Thurzo made sure it was that way. The Emperor owed a large debt to Lady Bathory. Many historians now believe that the Countess was setup. She was a wealthy, powerful single woman, one of the largest landowners in Hungary and a potential threat to the emperor’s rule. The Countess also had powerful Protestant relatives in eastern Hungary, who with her help could possibly have made an attempt to overthrow the Catholic Habsburgs. She had to be subdued. A tribunal in December 1611 sentenced Elizabeth Bathory to perpetual life imprisonment. Stonemasons arrived at Cachtice and walled the Countess up in a room. This is where she would live out the rest of her life.
Passing Into Infamy
The Countess’ final years were spent in solitary confinement. A few family members came to visit. She also spent time writing correspondence. Her only other outlet to the world was a small opening where a guard would pass food to her each day. It must have been a lonely, depressing existence. Just a few years earlier she held the power of life and death over her servants. Now her only servant was a guard watching over her imprisonment. She had once been the most powerful woman in Hungary. Now she inhabited a small, drafty space in a forlorn castle along the borderlands. Few people in Hungarian history have fallen so far from the heights of power in so short a time. Was the Countess haunted by her crimes, seething with anger over the accusations that had brought her down or deeply depressed at what her life had become? Her enemies, including Thurzo’s own wife, came to the castle and stole away with much of Bathory’s jewelry. No one would have dared to do such a thing when she ruled over Cachtice. Now she was helpless to stop such petty plunder. Her land, her riches, her freedom had all been taken away, but madness was still there to accompany her all the way to the grave.
On the final night of her life, Sunday August 21, 1634, the Countess called for her guard and complained about having poor circulation, specifically in her hands. The guard told her that she was fine. He instructed her to lie down. With a pillow under her legs, rather than her head, she began to sing aloud in a beautiful, melodic voice. Where once there had been screaming, there was now only a sweet melody. These were the last words anyone heard from Elizabeth Bathory, with that she passed into history and infamy.