_January 28th._--At Stoke from Saturday to Monday. On returning to town, we heard that the Persian war was over, Palmerston's usual luck bringing a settlement of the only question that could be embarrassing on the eve of the meeting of Parliament. But the news only comes telegraphically, so unless confirmed must be doubtful, and cannot be named in the Speech.[1]
Two remarkable deaths have occurred, one of which touches me nearly, that of Madame de Lieven; the other is that of the Duke of Rutland. Madame de Lieven died, after a short illness, of a severe attack of bronchitis, the Duke having lingered for many months. Very different characters. Madame de Lieven came to this country at the end of 1812 or beginning of 1813 on the war breaking out between Russia and France. Pozzo di Borgo had preceded the Lievens to renew diplomatic relations and make arrangements with us. She was at that time young, at least in the prime of life, and though without any pretensions to beauty, and indeed with some personal defects, she had so fine an air and manner, and a countenance so pretty and so full of intelligence, as to be on the whole a very striking and attractive person, quite enough so to have lovers, several of whom she engaged in succession without seriously attaching herself to any. Those who were most notoriously her slaves at different times were the present Lord Willoughby, the Duke of Sutherland (then Lord Gower), the Duke of Cannizzaro (then Count St. Antonio), and the Duke of Palmella, who was particularly clever and agreeable. Madame de Lieven was a _très grande dame_, with abilities of a very fine order, great tact and _finesse_, and taking a boundless pleasure in the society of the great world and in political affairs of every sort. People here were not slow to acknowledge her merits and social excellence, and she almost immediately took her place in the cream of the cream of English society, forming close intimacies with the most conspicuous women in it, and assiduously cultivating relations with the most remarkable men of all parties. These personal _liaisons_ sometimes led her into political partisanship not always prudent and rather inconsistent with her position, character, and functions here. But I do not believe she was ever mixed up in any intrigues, nor even, at a later period, that she was justly obnoxious to the charge of caballing and mischief-making which has been so lavishly cast upon her. She had an insatiable curiosity for political information, and a not unnatural desire to make herself useful and agreeable to her own Court by imparting to her Imperial masters and mistresses all the information she acquired and the anecdotes she picked up. Accordingly while she was in England, which was from 1812 to 1834, she devoted herself to society, not without selection, but without exclusion, except that she sought and habitually confined herself to the highest and best. The Regent, afterwards George IV., delighted in her company, and she was a frequent guest at the Pavilion, and on very intimate terms with Lady Conyngham, for although Madame de Lieven was not very tolerant of mediocrity, and social and colloquial superiority was necessary to her existence, she always made great allowances for Royalty and those immediately connected with it. She used to be a great deal at Oatlands, and was one of the few intimate friends of the Duchess of York, herself very intelligent, and who therefore had in the eyes of Madame de Lieven the double charm of her position and her agreeableness. It was her duty as well as her inclination to cultivate the members of all the successive Cabinets which passed before her, and she became the friend of Lord Castlereagh, of Canning, the Duke of Wellington, Lord Grey, Lord Palmerston, John Russell, Aberdeen, and many others of inferior note, and she was likewise one of the _habitués_ of Holland House, which was always more or less neutral ground, even when Lord Holland was himself a member of the government.