We had on board the Princess Lieven and her two youngest sons, the Princes George and Arthur, called after the late king[38] and the Duke of Wellington—the one about thirteen, the other nine—fine boys. Count Matuscervie was also on board, bound for Aberdeenshire on a hunting expedition. He is excessively fond of horse-racing, hunting and all field sports, and seems to take much greater delight in talking of these subjects, than those of a serious nature. The princess has in a great degree lost that beauty which captivated the king and the Duke of W. Her nose is now sharp and her face somewhat red; but her manners and conversation are very fine. I consider her superior to Matuscervie as a diplomatist.[39] I endeavored to cultivate her good graces, not by assiduous attentions, which are often annoying, but by kind and respectful conduct towards her whenever the opportunity occurred unsought. I succeeded. She is a woman and possesses all the superstitious feelings in regard to omens which distinguish the Russians. The count and myself made a bet on the length of the voyage, and drank the wine before its termination. This gave her much uneasiness, and the wind became more violent immediately after. The count wrote a complimentary certificate in the captain’s [log] book, and it was signed before the close of the voyage. Immediately after we had quite a storm, which continued the whole night. I should have been alarmed myself, but thanks to the Yankee captain with whom I crossed the Atlantic, who would carry sail in a hurricane. Captain Dietz, of the boat, a round-faced and pleasant Dutchman, and a naturalized citizen of the United States, attributed our bad voyage entirely to the circumstance of having a parson aboard (The Rev. Mr. Kneill). He swore he could show all his [log] books and prove that, since he commanded a vessel, he had never made a single prosperous voyage with a clergyman on board. This was added to the stock of the princess’s superstition, and I found her uneasy at the idea of having him on board, on their passage from Hamburg to London. I told her I considered it almost a moral phenomenon to see such a woman believing in these presages. She said she had not _un esprit fort_. She could not help it. She said Lady Holland was as bad as herself in this respect. It was she [Lady Holland] who had first informed her that it was bad luck to set out on a journey on Friday. The princess did not believe it; but she had once tried it; her carriage was broken, and she injured, so as not to be entirely recovered for a year. Lord Wellington, she said, never thought himself wrong. He was always right, in his opinion. He had committed three great blunders whilst he was minister.