curiosities

Marczibányi-Karátsonyi castle

Where the Echoes of Drowned Spirits and the Melancholy Tunes of Franz Liszt Intertwine in a Sinister Legacy

Shrouded in the whispers of the past, the Marczibányi-Karátsonyi castle in Kamenitz Park veils a more sinister narrative beneath its historic facade. Once a symbol of Hungarian nobility's grandeur, built from 1797 to 1811, its asymmetrical classic style belies the eerie tales that seep from its very foundations. The saga commenced in 1745 with General Baron Uffeln's relocation, but the land truly awakened under Count Lőrinc Marczibányi's ambitions to resurrect viticulture from the shadows of Syrmia's forgotten wine legacy, tarnished by Ottoman bans.


The transition to the Karácsonyi family in the mid-19th century, through Countess Maria Marczibányi's marriage to Count Guido Karácsonyi, marked a pivotal yet ominous chapter. The castle, surrounded by an English landscape park and sculptures whispering of opulence, became a hub of cultural and social gatherings, often graced by the presence of Franz Liszt. Yet, this majestic setting was marred by legends and curses, like the tale of the drowned builders whose spirits were claimed by the Danube each year during construction, never to surface again, their essence trapped within the castle walls.


The park, meticulously designed to channel the Danube's wrath, harbored trees from distant lands, creating a facade of tranquility that masked the dread lurking beneath. Sculptures, once vibrant, now stand mutilated or lost, their fragmented forms a grim testament to the castle's darker history. The once-celebrated artificial lake has succumbed to marsh, echoing the decay that grips the heart of this estate.


Within the castle's atrium courtyard and under the stoic gaze of classicist columns, a sense of unease prevails. The grand ballroom, where laughter and music once resonated, now hosts an eerie silence, pierced occasionally by whispers of the past. Tales of the Karácsonyi lineage, plagued by sickness and haunted by auditory hallucinations of drowned builders' songs, add a chilling layer to the castle's legacy. The count's attempts to impress guests with high-quality wines and extravagant parks now seem like desperate bids to overshadow the sinister undercurrents that define the estate.


The Marczibányi-Karátsonyi castle, with its rich history and architectural beauty, remains a potent symbol of Syrmia's past. Yet, beneath its grandeur lies a morose tale of drowned souls, lost legacies, and a haunting that permeates its halls, making it a monument not just to nobility but to the eerie, unseen forces that have shaped its destiny.