It is usually supposed, particularly by bachelors of much cynicism and small experience, that a pretty or beautiful woman cannot bear to have about her any but the plainest hags of her sex. It is, therefore, very odd that the Courts of beautiful queens have always been noted for the lovely women who adorned them.

Particularly distinguished in this way was the Second Empire, when the Empress Eugenie, who has been called the loveliest woman in Europe, was surrounded by a bevy of beauties who made the greater mark on their time because they were all so keenly interested, if not in politics, at least in the intrigues of politics.

The moralist would find food for reflection in the fact that most of these beautiful ladies were very sad women in after-life. A famous beauty died in poverty only a few years ago, and it was only in 1899 that the never-to-be-forgotten Countess of Castiglione passed away from a life which, for many years, had been one of the deepest mystery and seclusion. For these brilliant women, all in their time deeply mixed with politics, the intermediaries between countries and Ministers, the confidantes of famous men, recognised with great frankness that it was not their intelligence which gave them power, but their beauty, and when that waned they felt that life was over, and that nothing but absolute privacy and mystery could spare them the humiliation of watching their power vanish.

Madame de Castiglione was the daughter of the chief secretary to the King of Piedmont, and through her mother she inherited some of the best blood of the stormy and beautiful city of Florence. She was herself a remarkable child. At the age of twelve, which would be about 1855, she was tall and lovely as at twenty. When she was thirteen she was already a society beauty. She had rich brown hair, clear eyes, and perfect features. When she walked on the Cascine, an audible murmur of admiration followed her from the beauty-loving Florentines. Before she was fifteen she had rejected more suitors than most girls have the chance of accepting in their whole life.

A One-sided Affection

About this time a young man of good birth, good fortune, and great dissipation, by name Count Castiglione, came to London to look for a wife. He wished her to be very beautiful, and although he himself might have been satisfied by some of the lovely English girls of that period, he heard from Count Walew-ski, then Ambassador in London, that in Florence there dwelt a young girl of such surpassing loveliness that no woman in Europe could equal her. Back to Florence went the Count, quite in the manner of the prince in a fairy tale, but completely unlike him in every other respect. He obtained an introduction to the Marchioness Oldoini, and the very sight of her daughter struck him first dumb, and then garrulous with admiration. She was dressed in blue, and her eyes matched her dress. In them dwelt a look of wonderful softness, which seems, however, to have been in the nature of a practical joke on the part of Nature. There was a dimple in her chin, which is, of course, an irresistible attraction to any man, and has before now bowled over a judge on the bench, a jury in the box, and all the counsel on the opposite side.

The Count hastened on the marriage, even though the lovely girl told him she cared very little about him, and if, later on, they were not happy it would be his responsibility. However, he was far too much in love not to marry her on any terms, but it is on record that during the ceremony she "bore herself like a very Iphigenia."

A Wilful Wife

It must be admitted that, although he had had fair warning that his wife was not likely to be a devoted and obedient spouse, she took such free advantage of the liberty she had claimed as might have staggered any man. Etiquette demanded, as, indeed, good taste and good feeling in all countries demand, that the bride should visit her husband's mother. However, the lovely Virginie thought this would bore her, so she said she would not do it, and nothing would move her. The Count begged, implored, swore, threatened, ordered, blustered, coaxed, commanded, all in vain. Finally, one day when they were driving together, he ordered the coachman to go to his mother's house. Not a word from Virginie. Presently the carriage drove across a bridge above the river. Quick as lightning she snatched off her shoes and stockings, flung them over the parapet into the water, and said, "I suppose you will scarcely compel me to walk into the house barefoot? The conversation during the rest of the drive is not recorded. She was absolutely cold to him, and when, at the end of two years, his fortune came to an end, she was very far from liking him the better on that account.

The luxurious palace near Turin in which they lived was always full of visitors. The frank boredom of its chatelaine when left alone with her husband rendered this inevitable. She had plenty of friends, however, and admirers. The King of Piedmont adored her. He was not so attractive as Count Castiglione, but he was a king, and the Countess knew very well what she wanted of the world, and never lost a chance of taking it. She was ambitious, and when she smiled upon the King she did very well for herself. For Cavour, the famous Minister, watching the way in which she played one man off against the other, perceived in her diplomatic qualities which would make her invaluable in the secret service of the country.

A Beautiful Diplomat

The first thing he wished her to do was to go to the Court of Napoleon III., and she was very willing, for a strange feeling of destiny drew her towards the successor of the Great Napoleon. She therefore went to Paris, where a warm welcome awaited her. In childhood she had already met Louis Napoleon, and, indeed, her father had been his guardian. The fame of her beauty went before her, and invitations awaited her by the hundred, but she chose to make her first entrance into Parisian society at a great ball at the Tuileries.