Ashfield’s letter, signed in blood, revisited
Clements Historical Manuscript revisted by historian Jonathan Smyth
You may remember a few months ago, we looked at the story of a letter partially wrote in blood by an Italian woman which turned up in the manuscript collection of M.L.S. Clements of Ashfield Lodge, near Cootehill. Since then, I have had the luck to see a full copy of the Clements Historical Manuscript Commission’s report, which contained many more letters from the unrequited pen of Camilla Constanza Sazienza to her would be paramour, John Molesworth, who was a relative of the Coote family, of Bellamont, Cootehill.
To recap, Miss Sazienza and John had formed an attachment around 1714 while he was living in Turin when he was in the service of the Court of Sardinia. John who was the ‘second Viscount Molesworth’ had left Italy for a time around 1720, later to return as a married man, but married to another woman.
Miss Sazienza in her despair wrote to him and told of her undying love in a letter signed with her own blood whilst she was living in a convent. The recently viewed letters reveal more details.
On February 6, 1721, Camilla Sazienza, of Florence, wrote that she had known the honourable John Moleworth, envoy of Turin, for the past seven years and ‘reproached him for in inconstancy.’ John having married since their last encounter, had left his Miss Sazinza quite unhappy and yet, she offered to send him ‘figs and wine’ while saying that her tears would be enough to fill a wine barrel, ‘if they could be collected.’ Some of the letters, even though they were unsigned, are written in the same vein which the manuscripts compiler said was certainly by the same author.
In a letter from May 23, 1721, she apologises for her disparaging remarks about Molesworth’s wife. Then, seven days later, she corresponds with him again, saying that she fears the letters are being opened because of ‘quarantine’ (presumably the convent was keeping an eye on things). Camilla Sazienza hoped to see John within the next eight days, ‘though not alone.’ Camilla would spend her evenings at church when she was unable to sleep because of the ‘anxiety’ she felt about him. She complained that her affection was not being ‘reciprocated as it should be.’
A few months later, in October, Miss Sazienza began losing patience with Molesworth who was not replying to her letters. Camilla spoke of how anxious she was at night, fearing him to be sick. Soon, she found out that he was alright and that he was writing to other friends for what she said was for political reasons. She could be told that he was the ‘virtuoso’, the toast of the town. Camilla could not hide her jealousy, and told him, he was ‘a more faithful correspondent to Pandolfini’ than he was to her.
In February 1722, matters were much more convivial. Miss Sazienza was more gracious, telling Moleworth, ‘I must express my very good thanks for the crucifix, which all my friends admire, and for all your generosity.’ Molesworth had given Camilla money it seems, as she has been able to buy new clothes for her sister. Camilla explained that she has arranged to have an artist paint her portrait, standing by a barred window. Arranging the portrait was no easy task, as she explained, ‘men are not admitted into this house (convent) with the same freedom as women.’ She finishes the letter, by speaking of a dream with a barbed message: ‘I dreamt I saw you with the lady we know of (Mrs Molesworth) who was with child which causes me to fear an increase of your affection for the lady.’ As for the portrait, she said that she intended to smuggle it to him in ‘a case of fruit.’
There is evidence of a response from Molesworth on March 6, 1722. Camilla was concerned about ‘John’s illness’, which she believed was due to severe heat and advises him to drink broth. And about him she says, ‘ your fever seems to have become polite from its association with you, and always gives due notice of its coming.’ She adds in some gossip, asking if he has heard about the ‘witch nun’, an incident that happened not too far from away.
During Easter, she wrote to Molesworth on March 24, 1723, and asserted that ‘as it is Easter, the season of reconciliation for all Christians, I wish to be reconciled with you’ and added, that the portrait would be sent soon, although she had ‘gone without two meals’ to work for him.
On May 10, 1723, she wrote in an angrier tone, having been watching the carriages from her window, ‘expecting’ Molesworth to come to Florence, or at least to have visited her local church. Forcefully, she tells him: ‘Come to see me; I have much to tell you, but I suppose there will be no opportunity, for you will bring your wife.’ On another occasion, Moleworth accused Camilla of upbraiding him. Another time, Camilla told him she was drinking milk and that her complexion had never been so good.
In 1725, Camilla Sazienza wrote about plays in which she was now taking part at carnivals and invited John to see her new villa, with the kind of windows that ‘allow one’ to look out from without being seen, ‘unless they want to be seen.’
In one of her last letters, she reminisces about the past when they were once happy together and ‘now we are almost old’, she added, ‘still I hope we shall dance in the new villa.’ The portrait was still awaiting delivery. This time she considered the possibility of sending it in a box of ‘lemon cake.’ In the following year John Moleworth died.
Other documents in the Clements manuscript collection include letters between John Molesworth and his wife; and a letter from Thomas Coote, Cootehill to his nephew, William Molesworth MP, Dublin, in 1730.