ntsman's splendid table that I met
Calogeso Plato, now archbishop of Novgorod, and then chaplain to the
empress. This monk was a Russian, and a master of ruses, understood
Greek, and spoke Latin and French, and was what would be called a fine
man. It was no wonder that he rose to such a height, as in Russia the
nobility never lower themselves by accepting church dignities.

Da Loglio had given me a letter for the Princess Daschkoff, and I took it
to her country house, at the distance of three versts from St.
Petersburg. She had been exiled from the capital, because, having
assisted Catherine to ascend the throne, she claimed to share it with
her.

I found the princess mourning for the loss of her husband. She welcomed
me kindly, and promised to speak to M. Panin on my behalf; and three days
later she wrote to me that I could call on that nobleman as soon as I
liked. This was a specimen of the empress's magnanimity; she had
disgraced the princess, but she allowed her favourite minister to pay his
court to her every evening. I have heard, on good authority, that Panin
was not the princess's lover, but her father. She is now the President of
the Academy of Science, and I suppose the literati must look upon her as
another Minerva, or else they would be ashamed to have a woman at their
head. For completeness' sake the Russians should get a woman to command
their armies, but Joan d'Arcs are scarce.

Melissino and I were present at an extraordinary ceremony on the Day of
the Epiphany, namely the blessing of the Neva, then covered with five
feet of ice.

After the benediction of the waters children were baptized by being
plunged into a large hole which had been made in the ice. On the day on
which I was present the priest happened to let one of the children slip
through his hands.

"Drugoi!" he cried.

That is, "Give me another." But my surprise may be imagined when I saw
that the father and mother of the child were in an ecstasy of joy; they
were certain that the babe had been carried straight to heaven. Happy
ignorance!

I had a letter from the Florentine Madame Bregonci for her friend the
Venetian Roccolini, who had left Venice to go and sing at the St.
Petersburg Theatre, though she did not know a note of music, and had
never appeared on the stage. The empress laughed at her, and said she
feared there was no opening in St. Petersburg for her peculiar talents,
but the Roccolini, who was known as La Vicenza, was not