14 October 1784

Rocca Sorrentina, Italy

Gabriel and I arrived by boat three days since. The journey was exhausting and already I am abandoned by my spouse. He is off to Milan where there is to be a new opera house. Gabriel hopes to find employment there. Given the difficulties of travel and the availability of a fine room here at the Villa Vesuviana, we decided it would be better for me to take respite from the journey. Gabriel will send for me if it seems he will be in Milan more than a few short weeks or he will return here himself if there is nothing to keep him in that city.

Irony of ironies, my rooms here were most recently occupied by my old "friend," Frances Burney, that ungrateful woman still living the life of an ingenue well past its appropriate time. I am told she was here for some many months and made friends in the community, most notably a daughter of the infamous Marquis de Sade. I too am acquainted with Lorsagne and have to wonder how one so sophisticated can tolerate the silliness of the child-woman. Perhaps Miss Burney has at last learned to better appreciate the attentions of her betters? I never understood how our dear Dr. Johnson could bear to be so frequently in her company. And then there is Samuel Crisp. The bond between that man and the novelist is equally inexplicable to me.

Nevertheless, the rooms here are lovely and the grounds are exquisite. Today, after taking tea-- one assumes the staff of such an estate will know how to brew a proper pot of tea -- I plan to explore the village. I am told there are several dress shops. I suppose it is too much to expect elegance here on an island so far from even Italian civilization, such as it is. But one makes do with what is available.

The newlywed Mrs. Piozzi takes tea at Villa Vesuviana in Italy.