The Idler

HENRY CYRIL PAGET

The Fifth Marquess of Anglesey converted the family chapel into a theatre and squandered his fortune on fancy jewellery for his band of amateur players. The family tried to erase his memory, but SIMON McAUSLANE has the inside story. Illustration by Lorna Miller

Henry Cyril Paget, Fifth Marquess of Anglesey, died bankrupt aged just 29 in 1905. His life had been devoted to the unbridled and unashamed squandering of a very large private fortune. Like Des Esseintes, the dissolute, infinitely wealthy antihero of Huysmans’ A Rebours, Paget spent everything on the creation of his own opulent world, driven by an obsessional pursuit of aesthetic fulfillment. Whereas Des Esseintes became insular and retreated into private darkness, Henry Cyril Paget did quite the opposite – an extremely flamboyant extrovert, his principle interests were dressing up, collecting and wearing very expensive jewellery, dancing and staging lavish theatrical extravaganzas.

The Pagets were a particularly illustrious and respected Victorian dynasty. Henry Cyril’s grandfather, Sir Henry William Paget MP had raised a regiment of infantry, served in Flanders and commanded the cavalry with great distinction in Spain. It was at Waterloo, however, that he established the Paget name forever, or, at least until his grandson was to come along some sixty years later. He lost a leg during one of the early assaults, but insisted on carrying on until the battle was won. His extraordinary, stoic bravery earned him unconditional tributory awe from the Establishment, and the affectionate family nickname ‘one leg’.

Henry Cyril’s nickname was ‘The Dancing Marquess’, and was probably used less than affectionately by the rest of his family. He was born in 1875 and brought up in France, largely in the company of theatrical people. These formative years clearly instilled a deep love of showing off, and, sure enough, his first fait accompli upon entering the family seat at Plas Newydd was to convert the centuries old chapel into a theatre. From 1901 onwards, he staged a series of productions whose scale and cost were boundless. Casts of 50 or 60 were clad in luxurious, fantastic costumes and large amounts of jewellery. Paget was especially fond of ‘Aladdin’, and it is believed this light opera was the most performed work by his company. He played the part of Pekoe, and during the interval would perform his celebrated ‘Butterfly Dance’. What this actually consisted of is unclear, although large gossamer-effect wings and huge clusters of colourful jewels, and a great deal of running around with arms flapping can be guessed at. Hence ‘The Dancing Marquess’.

In just four years, Paget blew his entire fortune on luxurious goods, clothes, jewels and the upkeep of very large casts of actors for his productions which would tour Britain and the Continent. It is not known how much he actually spent, but the jewellery alone for his own Henry V costume cost ��40,000, or for over ��4,000,000 by today’s values. That was just one costume out of hundreds made for his company over the years.

Sadly, very little information about Henry Cyril Paget exists today. Unlike his forebears and successors, he is not listed in Who Was Who. After his death he was succeeded by his cousin, the Sixth Marquess of Anglesey, whose first priority was to reconvert the chapel and systematically destroy all evidence that Henry Cyril Paget had ever existed. There are no private papers, correspondence, diaries or itineraries left at all. The existence today of cast lists, visitors’ books and theatre programmes would be especially invaluable, for it will now never be known who his friends, and, of course, large casts of players actually were, who they performed to, and where. It’s not inconceivable that Paget was at least known to Oscar Wilde, Saki, Winston Churchill and Edwardian Society.

Nonetheless, his outrageous life proved to be literally so, for it was clearly a fit of outrage that his successor unhesitantly condemned him to obscurity and disgrace.

This seems a shame, for Henrty Cyril Paget was almost certainly an exuberant, popular and, in his own way, brave man, both ahead of his time and of it too. He died in Monte Carlo – the circumstances are unclear, but it would seem he had completely burnt himself out and spent his huge fortune. The bankruptcy sale of his effects lasted an incredible seventeen days. An obituary in ‘The Bystander’ cruelly compared him to his heroic grandfather and stated: ‘His example will remain one of the strongest arguments against our hereditary system that the most ardent revolutionary would wish for.’

Perhaps one step towards the rehabilitation of Paget would be a less cruel comparison to his heroic grandfather. Both, in their very different ways, displayed an indomitable spirit, originality, and determination and courage which an unkind view could say wavered into the realm of abject stupidity. Both, too, were surely in posession of great charisma and a primal Joie da vivre, for how else could they have bonded large groups of people, be they actors or cavalry, and turned them into disciples?

‘The Bystander’s’ obituary did, however, go on to concede that Henry Cyril Paget was much loved by estate workers and locals in Anglesey. The high liklehood of finding stray emeralds and rubies in the locale could have been a factor of course, but true affection for a riotuously amusing eccentric who lived in the most glorious manner of all – that of not caring a damn – seems likely too.