Miss Burdett-Coutts was not to be won by an adventurous French Prince, although he was the nephew of Napoleon I.
Turn and turn about the Prince made advances to--
1. The daughter of the Prince de Wasa, husband of a daughter of the Grand Duchess of Baden (née Stéphanie Louise Adrienne de Beauharnais).
2. Princess Adelaide of Hohenzollern, niece of Queen Victoria’s consort, and sister of that Prince Leopold whose selection by Prim to occupy the vacant throne of Spain, in 1870, led up to the war.
3. A daughter of the Prince de Wagram, who “did not please him,” and who married Prince Joachim Murat.
4. The Infante Marie Christine, a daughter of Don François de Paule, and sister of the consort of Queen Isabelle II.
Doubtless he had an affection for his cousin, Princesse Mathilde, and felt a pang when the news reached him, at Ham, of her marriage with the Russian Prince, Anatole Demidoff. Neither as President of the Republic nor as Emperor of the French would the royal houses of Europe have anything to do with the son of Queen Hortense.
Mlle. Eugénie de Montijo, Comtesse de Téba? She was unheard of as yet.
There was never any question in the minds of those who were ever so little behind the scenes that Napoleon III. so completely “lost his head” over “the beautiful Spaniard” that he seriously proposed to her without knowing whither his impetuosity was carrying him. That marriage was far from the Emperor’s intentions originally is highly probable. When, however, he saw there was nothing for it but to make the young lady his Empress, he allowed himself to be led with scarcely a word of remonstrance and only the faintest of objections. His Majesty had to deal with an experienced woman of the world in Mme. de Montijo, and with a clever one in the person of Mlle. Eugénie de Montijo. It was a question of “marriage or no marriage,” and the ladies gained the day. The flirtation was remarkably strong while it lasted, and the Emperor made himself the laughing-stock and butt of most of his monde, whose ridicule, however, could not divert His Majesty from pursuing his campaign with infatuated ardour.
Numberless stories are told of this diverting love-chase. Every year, in October, there was a great gathering of guests at Compiègne. On one of these occasions a société d’élite sat round a table playing cards while waiting for tea. It was noticed that Mlle. de Montijo sat on the Emperor’s right, and, the wives of some of the Ministers being present, the circumstance was regarded as a sign of the times. The game was vingt-et-un, and Mlle. de Montijo, who did not seem to be very expert, consulted her neighbour on the left when she was in doubt what to do. Presently, after looking at her cards, she showed them to the Emperor, letting her eyes play the part of an inquirer. Napoleon III. replied, “Keep them; you have a very good hand.” “No,” she remarked, “they’re not good enough; I want all or nothing!” and she asked for more cards, whereupon the dealer tossed her what proved to be an ace. Of course she won, and she took up the stake with a smile which was interpreted by those present as the triumph of the will over fortune.