The Mad Marquis Henry Cyril Paget and his "Theatre of Joy"

This British aristocrat made history not for wars or politics, but for his unbridled passion for the stage, luxury, and outrageousness. Henry Cyril Paget, heir to an ancient title, turned his own life into an endless spectacle, evoking the admiration, bewilderment, and irritation of his contemporaries. Was he a genius of self-expression or a symbol of absolute recklessness? Let's find out.

Henry Cyril Paget, 5th Marquess of Anglesey, was born on June 16, 1875, in Paris. His mother, Blanche Mary Boyd, was the second wife of the British peer Henry Paget, 4th Marquess of Anglesey. However, rumors persisted in London that such an extraordinary child could not possibly be the reserved lord's natural son. Paternity was attributed to the famous French actor Benoît-Constant Coquelin.

Whether this was actually the case is unknown. But Coquelin was a longtime friend of the Boyd family and later married Edith, Henry's aunt. It was his aunt who raised the boy: his mother died when he was only two years old. In prim English circles, it was later whispered that the Paget offspring became a "black sheep" precisely because he grew up not in strict England, but with "strange French relatives."

Henry first came to Britain at the age of eight. He was brought to his father's family estate, Plas Newydd, on the Welsh island of Anglesey. By then, the Marquess had already remarried, and neither he nor his new wife showed any interest in the child. There were no other children in the vast house, and the boy's only companionship was his devout Scottish nanny.

Henry grew up in luxury: expensive interiors, servants, dozens of pets. Animals and an elderly nanny constituted his entire social circle. Perhaps it was this lack of peers that so profoundly influenced the future marquis, who would later live his entire life "in public" and shock all of Europe.

His home education gave way to the prestigious Eton College. At the same time, Henry was commissioned as a lieutenant in the 2nd Volunteer Battalion of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers, where his father was the honorary colonel.

Already in the army, young Paget showed his uniqueness. He stood out among his comrades for his obsessive concern for his appearance: a ring on every finger, and every morning, he applied whitewash to his face. Lieutenant Paget considered himself too dark, and this greatly upset him.

The real show began in 1898. In January, Henry married his cousin Lillian Flores Chetwynd. The marriage was a classic aristocratic ritual: before becoming the head of the family, one had to marry the "right" girl.

Henry sincerely admired Lillian—her beauty, reminiscent of Pre-Raphaelite paintings—but this feeling was something entirely different. During their honeymoon in Paris, he took his young wife to a jewelry store and bought everything in the display cases. That evening, in the most expensive hotel room, he undressed his wife, laid her on the bed, covered her body with jewelry worth hundreds of thousands of pounds… and peacefully went to sleep. He had absolutely no interest in sexual intimacy.

In October of that same year, 1898, his father died, leaving his son a colossal fortune. From that moment on, the events for which the "Dancing Marquis" would go down in history began—and nearly sent the ancient family into exile.

With unlimited access to money, Henry was finally able to indulge his passion for luxury and spectacles.

The family's annual income was approximately 110,000 pounds sterling—roughly 1.43 billion rubles in today's money. It would seem impossible to spend such sums. But not for Sir Henry. He hosted grand receptions for hundreds of guests at his estates.

Luxury became his life's purpose, but the marquis had a rather idiosyncratic taste. He strolled through Mayfair painted, perfumed, draped in diamonds, with a white poodle tucked under his arm—the dog's collar adorned with pink ribbons and those same diamonds.

He also adored technological progress. The garage contained five cars, each custom-made, trimmed with precious metals and rare woods. The exhaust pipes were equipped with perfume sprayers—the marquis's car filled the entire street with its scent.

The creative youth and bohemians were delighted. The older aristocracy spat at him and called him "a disgrace to the Anglesey family." However, the eccentric London dandy didn't care what others thought.

Henry's behavior seemed to be taking revenge on high society for his lonely childhood. It seemed he deliberately took his life to the point of absurdity to shock the prim lords and upend centuries-old norms. Paget did what he wanted, not what was expected of him.

He renamed the family castle, Plas Newydd, "Anglesey Castle." The medieval family chapel was closed for renovation and reopened as a private 150-seat theater—the Gaiety Theatre.

The chapel's decoration cost a fortune. Paget installed electricity in the theater and equipped it with Edison light bulbs, then quite unusual. In 1899, the theater opened its doors to the public. Henry invited both his London friends and local residents, regardless of background or income, to his performances. Admission was always free for villagers.

This was no amateur circle. Stars came from London and Paris, paid enormous fees. But the main star was always the owner himself, Henry Cyril Paget. Incidentally, experts noted that although the aristocrat had no formal acting training, he acted very well, a testament to his undeniable talent.

During intermissions, Henry remained on stage, preferring to entertain the audience himself. He performed his signature solo number, the "Butterfly Dance," inspired by the choreography of American dancer Loie Fuller. These improvised performances earned him the nickname "the dancing marquis"—somewhat mockingly, perhaps quite sincerely.

The Marquis had a particular passion for photography. Several photographers attended every performance, capturing literally everything that happened on stage. Henry then personally selected the best shots for his collection. Some of them became postcards that Paget sent to his friends.

Sir Henry also loved staged photographs. His collection included photographs of the most unusual and striking images. Costumes for the "Dancing Marquis" and his theatrical troupe were crafted by the finest couturiers in Britain and France. He commissioned sets from renowned artists.

The costumes and props cost around 45 million pounds in today's dollars. Paget disdained tinsel and props. While the script called for a character's costume to be studded with diamonds and emeralds, the stones were all real.

Henry Paget had a particular passion for women's attire. His favorite theatrical role was Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine. His indifference to women and penchant for cross-dressing gave rise to rumors of the Marquis's homosexuality. However, he never had a single confirmed affair—with either men or women. He apparently considered sex too crude and unworthy of true beauty.

His beautiful wife watched all of her husband's follies from the sidelines. In 1900, Lillian couldn't take it anymore and left, filing for divorce. After her departure, the Marquis completely lost his inhibitions. Expenses skyrocketed, and the theater stopped performing at the estate and went on tour.

Henry first toured England and Scotland with his performances, and then embarked on a major European tour. The Theatre of Joy was a full-fledged professional troupe: actors, orchestra, costume designers, and lighting technicians. All of this was transported on six trucks. The road train also included five of the Marquis's personal cars.

The tour lasted three years, and the theater was a success everywhere. Meanwhile, the Marquis's debts grew. They long ago exceeded not only his income but also the family fortune. Ultimately, the debt reached approximately 250 million pounds (equivalent to 25.6 billion rubles today).

Relatives joined forces with creditors and filed a lawsuit. In 1904, all property was seized and auctioned off within a few weeks. The proceeds were barely enough to cover the debts. Henry was stripped of his right to manage the family finances by the court and ordered to pay alimony of 3,000 pounds a year. For him, this was a humiliating handout.

The disgruntled and ruined Marquis left England and set off to travel around Europe. He traveled on a smaller scale than before, but still reveled in the attention. He gave interviews to journalists, recounting his former glory and the unfair treatment he suffered from his relatives.

The upheavals devastated Henry Cyril Paget's health. In early 1905, he was diagnosed with rapid tuberculosis. On March 14, 1905, he died in Monte Carlo in the arms of his ex-wife Lillian and his aunt Edith. He was only 29 years old.

The death of the "Dancing Marquis" brought long-awaited relief to his relatives. For several years, they had deliberately erased him from family history: they burned archives and photographs, converted the "Theater of Joy" back into a chapel and began holding services there, and restored the castle to its former name.

Fortunately, the memory of Henry Paget's flamboyant personality was never completely erased. Friends and admirers of the Marquis still have his photographs and the mementos he gave away left and right. These can now be seen in a small museum located in Plas Newydd Castle.

It remains to be seen that Sir Henry's fantastic costumes and jewelry have not disappeared. Today, they are highly prized by collectors and fetch high prices at auction as works of art.

The story of Henry Cyril Paget exemplifies how one man, driven by a thirst for beauty and freedom, was able to leave a mark that defied both the norms and expectations of his era. The question remains: what is more important—his bold challenge to society or the devastating consequences for his family and fortune? How should he be remembered—as a madman, an artist, or a man a century ahead of his time?