Countess Báthory Reprise
I hope you’ve read my most recent post about Countess Erzsébet Báthory de Ecsed, the so-called “Blood Countess.” I was overwhelmed with the support the countess received from my readers. Many were outraged that I even called her the Blood Countess, a moniker that has been ascribed to her for centuries. I must agree the arguments vindicating her from the mythic atrocities are strong, and I did not intend to perpetuate falsehoods about her. That said, we must always keep a balanced, if not open perspective, and have a willingness to have one’s opinion changed, because otherwise, we stop listening and are doomed to an echo chamber that endlessly repeats our own thoughts.
The attacks on Erzsébet Báthory de Ecsed may have been instigated for multiple reasons. There’s no doubt the countess was an accomplished leader and administrator. She managed a vast portfolio of landholdings and wealth. Some have theorized the gynaeceum she hosted was more than a school of etiquette and courtly manners. It was a place where she may have mentored young girls in new ways of thinking about the role of women in both society and the home. I find it easy to imagine Erzsébet involved in such an endeavor. This alone could label her a disruptive influence that needed to be silenced. Tragically, the women living on her estates became central figures in the campaign to dethrone and execute her. Further, she held vast tracks of land in Hungary, and with land comes wealth and power. Knowing the immutability of human nature, I find it easy to imagine men behaving in devious and self-serving ways, creating false narratives to achieve their ends: seizing her lands and power. My post discussed in detail the use of hearsay in the trials of her servants. In a time when hearsay and political motivations often shaped legal outcomes, the absence of a formal trial for Erzsébet is telling. The facts were never strong enough. Still, she was arrested and imprisoned until her death.
Even with our modern sensibilities and four hundred years of hindsight, we must remember even the best informed theories are still just that. No hard evidence exists either way. Yes, most historians believe this or that may have happened, and one of their narratives will be the best explanation at hand. Still, we must hold our certainties in such things more lightly, allowing for divergent perspectives, the hallmark of an educated society, a democratic society even. By allowing for multiple viewpoints, we aren’t condoning every belief but creating the framework that allows us to express our own beliefs with respect.
How often have we learned centuries later that a lionized or demonized individual was not at all what we thought them to be? How do we know the current perspective is correct? A more nuanced understanding often emerges, forcing us to move beyond simplistic good-versus-evil dichotomies and recognize the humanity of individuals within their specific contexts.
History is filled with figures whose stories have been shaped by selective memory. For instance, Joan of Arc is remembered as a martyr and saint who led France to victory. She is celebrated for her divine visions and bravery. Yet, historians now see her as a skilled, politically astute leader whose accomplishments went beyond mysticism. Like Erzsébet, Joan’s story has been shaped by selective memory—one emphasizes her virtues, the other her supposed vices. In both cases, myth obscures the nuanced reality. The ultimate irony is that though they shared many of the same qualities, Joan was celebrated, while Erzsébet reviled, her virtues forgotten, supplanted with myths and lies.
Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not saying absolute truth doesn’t exist. Rather, we must be committed to a critical review of facts and adjust accordingly when new information or learning comes to light. Also, in my experience, truth is almost never a simple thing. Most often, its complexity obscures the simplicity we crave, demanding that we think deeply instead. We often cast aside the complex answer for the simple, because it demands less of us.
So, consider this a call to listen with the openness to change. Our world would benefit from such people engaged in the political debate of our time, rather than the polarized shouting that characterizes our current political debate. In the end, our understanding of history—and each other—would deepen, pulling us together as a society rather than driving us apart.
