Gladys Deacon was once heralded as one of the world’s most beautiful women.

She overcame a traumatic childhood to become the “belle of the ball” in Parisian society, she became a Duchess and she had famous men falling over themselves to impress her.

Her life revolved around a murder, an abduction and a stint modelling for Pond’s soap — Rodin and Proust both commented on her bewitching beauty, her intelligence and sharp wit. World famous artist Boldini painted her portrait.

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And yet the very thing that made her famous — her stunning looks — played a huge part in her downfall as Gladys’ world disintegrated in a whirlwind of divorce, a botched beauty treatment and a turn as a reclusive “crazy dog lady” before she died in a mental hospital.

How on earth did a woman as beautiful and fiercely intelligent as Gladys Deacon end her life as a recluse? Here’s her fascinating story (and it features a happy ending of a kind).

A MURDER AND AN ABDUCTION

Gladys Marie Deacon had a tragic and very unusual childhood. She was born to wealthy American parents, along with three sisters and a brother who died in infancy.

According to Gladys Deacon’s biographer, Hugo Vickers, Gladys’ mother, Florence Deacon, had a very active social life and moved in fascinating and colourful circles. Mrs Deacon socialised with highly esteemed people such as French sculptor Auguste Rodin, art historian Bernard Berenson and eccentric royalist Count Robert de Montesquiou.

When her marriage to Edward Deacon deteriorated, she began an affair with a Frenchman named Emile Abeille.

In 1892, when Gladys was 10, her father discovered his wife was cheating on him with Abeille. Enraged, he pursued Mrs Deacon and her lover throughout France, eventually tracking them down at the Hotel Splendide at Cannes where they were enjoying a romantic weekend.

Mr Deacon apparently staked out the hotel, and when he heard his wife’s voice inside one of the rooms, he convinced hotel staff to open the door. Then he barged into the room with a loaded gun and fired three shots at Abeille, who staggered out into the hallway in front of horrified hotel guests.

Abeille lingered for a day at hospital before dying of his wounds. (Some reports say Abeille was cowering behind a sofa. Other reports claim the couple were in bed at the time of the shooting.) Either way, Mr Deacon handed himself in to local police, having satisfied his desire for vengeance.

He was imprisoned for just 12 months after being acquitted of manslaughter but found guilty of “intending to wound” Abeille.

Interesting note: This was the era when the French were incredibly lenient about “crimes of passion”.

Meanwhile, with her father behind bars, Gladys was sent to Convent de l’Assomption at Auteuil for her schooling. But her mother didn’t want to leave her at the convent for long, and she was fearful her husband would try to take custody of her once he was released from prison. Somehow, Mrs Deacon managed to find a way to abduct Gladys from the convent and bring her to her Paris home.

When Mr Deacon was released from prison, he went to the convent to collect Gladys, only to find she’d already been taken by her mother. A divorce and a court case followed, and Mr Deacon was awarded full custody of the children. We can only imagine this would have been devastating for Mrs Deacon, especially when her ex-husband took the girls to the US where they stayed for the next three years.

But the family’s stay in the US was to be short-lived; Mr Deacon was suffering from a mental illness and was admitted to McLean Hospital, near Boston. He died of “a paralysis of the brain” (syphilis) in 1901. On his death, Gladys and her sisters were sent back to Paris to live with their mother.

AN OBSESSION WITH THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH

According to Vickers, when she was as young as 14, Gladys was intrigued about the story of the famous American railroad heiress Consuelo Vanderbilt who was engaged to Charles Spencer-Churchill, the ninth Duke of Marlborough (he was the first cousin and close friend of Winston Churchill).

Gladys fantasised about being old enough to have been able to marry him. To marry a duke and become a duchess was the very fairytale that she dreamt for herself.

According to Mary Lovell, author of The Churchills, Gladys wrote to her mother: “If only I were a little older, I might catch him yet. I am too young though mature in the arts of woman’s witchcraft and what is the use of one without the other?”

In 1897, when Gladys was 16, her mother took her to London where she was thrilled to meet the Duke of Marlborough, the object of her girlish fantasies. There was still a large stench of scandal surrounding Mrs Deacon in the aftermath of her lover’s murder, but clearly that scandal didn’t get in the way of her acceptance in the London social scene (perhaps the scandal made her all the more attractive.)

It wasn’t long before Gladys scored an invitation to the Duke’s home, Blenheim Palace, an enormous stone palace that was built for the first duke as a reward for helping defeat the French at Blenheim in 1703 during the War of the Spanish Succession.

At the Palace, the Duke’s wife Consuelo had recently given birth and was said to be pleased to have Gladys stay with them, given they were only four years apart in age.

According to Vickers, Consuelo wrote of Gladys: “She is a beautiful girl, endowed with a bright intellect, possessed of exceptional powers of conversation. I was soon subjugated by the charm of companionship and we began a friendship.”

During Gladys’ stay at the palace, another house guest fell for her charms; the Crown Prince of Prussia.

The Prince took one look at Gladys and fell madly in love with her. Vickers wrote: “When they were driving to Oxford in a carriage, he kept turning around to the consternation of everybody, in order to gaze at Ms Deacon sitting in the back seat.”

But Gladys wasn’t keen on the Crown Prince, even when he offered her a diamond ring. She only had eyes for the Duke.

Four years later, Gladys accepted another invitation to Blenheim Palace, but this time she was invited to stay for six months, and that’s when her love affair with the man of her dreams began, lasting for 20 years.

A MESMERISING BEAUTY

Many men claimed to either have fallen in love with Gladys or, at least, been mesmerised by her beauty: philosopher Hermann von Keyserling, Prince Roffredo Caetani, Dukes of Camastra, Norfolk, Newcastle and Connaught, the poet Robert Trevelyan and Lord Warwick, just to name a few.

Marcel Proust wrote of her: “I never saw a girl with such beauty, such magnificent intelligence, such goodness and charm.” World renowned artist Giovanni Boldini painted her portrait.

Her blue eyes were said to be so beautiful; one glance would drive men crazy with desire. Realising the power of her eyes, she had her home filled with works of art depicting her eyes (even her gravestone).

Gladys once claimed that she’d slept with “every prime minister in Europe and many kings”.

But back to the Duke: Luckily for Gladys, the Duke’s marriage to Consuelo was not quite a perfect match: She’d married him because the Vanderbilt family was keen on the “Duchess” title for their daughter. The Duke married her for her millions. In other words, it was a loveless marriage, and when the couple separated, Gladys became the Duke’s lover until he officially divorced Consuelo and married Gladys. In Paris in 1921, Gladys’ teenage dream had finally come true.

BOTCHED BEAUTY TREATMENT

Behind Gladys’ wedding veil was something she’d kept secret from all but her closest friends: the results of a botched beauty treatment. For a woman who was famous for her good looks, even featuring in a Pond’s soap advertisement, Gladys was concerned from a young age that her looks were fading.

According to Vickers, Gladys was particularly concerned about her nose, complaining it had a “kink” in it. She decided, when she was still in her early 30s, that she would travel to Paris where a revolutionary treatment was underway to achieve a perfect “Grecian profile”.

But the treatment was a disaster. It involved having paraffin wax injected into her nose and jawline. Days after the “revolutionary” new treatment, the wax slipped, leaving Gladys with a permanently bulky jaw. She was said to be devastated and ordered her staff to remove all mirrors from her rooms.

“CRAZY DOG LADY”

As a way to entertain herself now that she wasn’t keen to socialise anymore, Gladys began breeding Blenheim spaniels and was so successful there were dozens of dogs roaming around the palace. This infuriated the Duke, mostly because the dogs were ruining the valuable carpets. But Gladys did little to appease her husband, and she was said to have a fierce temper. As her behaviour became more erratic, the couple began to drift apart.

According to Vickers, Gladys confided in house guests that she kept a loaded revolver on her bedside table.

When asked by guests why she kept the gun by her bed, she told them it was to prevent the Duke from entering her bedroom.

“I might just shoot the Duke,” Gladys said.

Word got back to the Duke about his gun-toting wife, and he took her threats seriously. Fearing his wife was ready to shoot him, in 1933 he fired Gladys’ staff and fled Blenheim Palace. He left her alone at the palace for two years before he evicted her. Gladys apparently stood at the steps of the palace and photographed the vans as they took her belongings away. She moved to a London residence owned by the Duke until he evicted her from there too, cutting off the gas and electricity.

The couple planned to divorce, but before that could happen, the Duke died, and Gladys eventually settled, with her dogs, at an isolated farmhouse in the remote village of Mixbury, filling it with treasures she’d collected over the years, including her enormous book collection, a small statue by Rodin and her portrait by Boldini.

She referred to herself as “Mrs Spencer” and only had her loyal Polish servant for company. He visited her every day for several years, and she’d lower a key from an upstairs window so he could let himself in.

But in 1962, neighbours were concerned that they hadn’t seen Gladys for years, and when doctors intervened, she was forcibly removed to St Andrew’s psychiatric hospital where she remained for 15 years. Gladys died in 1977 at the age of 96.

But Gladys’ story doesn’t end entirely tragically.

According to Vickers, who visited Gladys in 1975 at the hospital, she was still the most fascinating woman he has ever met. She was still fiercely intelligent. The sharp wit she was renowned for in her youth was, apparently, still there.

Vickers wrote: “Whilst sitting in this reclusive atmosphere she was reading the newspaper, keeping diaries, noting what was going on in the world and was as shrewd as anything.”

LJ Charleston is a freelance historical journalist. Continue the conversation @LJCharleston

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