Bathory: Nadasdy and Reputation, Reputation

"Drugeth! Draw!" Ferenc Nadasdy (Elliot Sowards) threatens Count Drugeth (Nathan Ducker) right before the King (Joshua Carroll), Adjuct Zavodsky (Sarah Jean Tilford) and Duke Thurzo (Chris Aruffo)

“Drugeth! Draw!” Ferenc Nadasdy (Elliot Sowards) threatens Count Drugeth (Nathan Ducker) right before the King (Joshua Carroll), Adjuct Zavodsky (Sarah Jean Tilford) and Duke Thurzo (Chris Aruffo). Lighting by Benjamin Dionysus. Costumes by Delena Bradley. Photo by iNDie Grant Productions

In three of his four scenes in Countess Bathory, Count Ferenc de Nadasdy (Elizabeth Bathory’s husband) begins by presenting himself as a romantic knight: he speaks of love more than anything else, and presents both a charming exterior and an intense devotion to his wife; at least, in a hypothetical sense. In his third scene, he shows that he is willing to commit gross violence and even beard the king himself for the sake of Elizabeth’s reputation. But therein lies the truth: the “romantic knight of old” quickly reveals himself to be far more concerned with reputation, with appearances, than with any manifest love. And when the world fails to conform to his romantic notions of proper behavior, a boorish monster appears in place of the knight.

Only slightly less visible than his adoration for beautiful Elizabeth is Nadasdy’s utter disdain for commoners, his dismissive attitude toward women (which was of course typical of the times, and entirely too common even today), and his not-at-all-surprising ignorance and hatred for other nationalities and beliefs (King Matthias II calls Suleiman “magnificent” twice, while Nadasdy calls the Turkish “dogs” and “blasphemous”). No one comments on any of these failings, of course. Any criticism of Nadasdy centers on his passionate defense of his wife’s reputation.

Reputation, in the end, utterly destroys poor Ferenc. Elizabeth all but begs him to stay with her rather than go to war, but he points out he would likely be executed for refusing the King’s orders. After she assures him that her money and power could prevent such a fate, Ferenc reveals that it’s not really his life he’s worried about, but the honor of his name. He chooses “death before dishonor,” but sadly no one else seems to share his romantic notions of the world.

In that critical third scene, Nadasdy barrels into the room demanding to kill Zavodsky (again, a commoner) for damaging his wife’s reputation. He is presumably already due out on the Turkish front, yet there he is defending Elizabeth’s reputation. While saving her good name would presumably help her as well, his MacDuff-like unwillingness to actually be there with his wife makes his priorities highly suspect.

In act 1, the Wedding Scene, the subject of Elizabeth’s rule over Castle Csejthe is lightly touched upon, and Nadasdy makes it clear that his wife enjoys his absolute authority in his absense. It may well be that the Black Knight is more concerned about his wife’s reflection on himself than her own well-being.

It’s only at the tipping point of no return when Ferenc reveals clear, unquestionable love for Elizabeth. After the King affirms his own absolute right through divine selection, Ferenc responds with an impassioned dismissal of God in any form, along with all other absolutes, declaring Elizabeth as superior to all absolute (and abstract) forms of love. He describes her power and beauty as something beyond definition, holding power over parts of himself he cannot describe. From there, he’s past the horizon, and the Machiavelian politics of reality quickly dump him into his decidedly prosaic fate.

In literature, we all appreciate a gray, complex, fascinating villain. In real life, we like our bad guys mustachioed and top-hatted. Ferenc Nadasady gives us a little bit of both.

“It is not Love I praise, but mine own Love,
That Queen whose beauty shameth Paradise
And turneth Venus’ cheek to mottled Clay,
Whose passions turn the turning of the Spheres
To still and tepid pools where blowflies freeze.
My body is my King’s, my soul is God’s,
But those secret divisions of myself
That even I could never name distinct,
These all-enduring partitions of Me,
Exist alone to benefit my She,
Whom without which this Knight would cease to be.”

COUNTESS BATHORY is back, Thursday – Saturday. Reservations are full, but walkups are welcome.

June 9 – 25
Thursday, Friday, and Saturday at 7:30pm
4001 N Ravenswood Ave, Ste 405
ALL SEATS ARE FREE

Countess Bathory, Theater Stuff

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