Florrie's Story

 

I met him in Greenock outside the Theatre Royal.  If I am to be honest, I really was not expecting to see men at the door of this provincial theatre but there he was.  It was a Monday night in late February in Scotland, predictably cold and I had no intention of making small talk in the street when it felt like it was about to snow.  Luckily, he had similar thoughts and proposed that we take a meal in a nearby restaurant on Blackhall Street.  I was quick to say yes as I’d had too many meals in boarding houses over the past year and was happy to be treated to something nicer.  The meal was satisfying but the conversation was the thing that made the night.  This was a man who knew his theatre.  He was well acquainted with Little Miss Nobody, having seen and loved the original production at the Gaiety many times.  He told me that he was in Scotland for meetings and that he had a house not seven miles from Greenock as well as rooms in Glasgow and that tonight he had found himself with nothing to do and did not feel like sitting alone in his house and so had made the trip to Greenock and the theatre.  He told me his name but at that time did not divulge his title or history, I did not ask and did not tell him mine.

I was surprised to find him outside the stage door again the next evening.  He said, once again, that he had found himself at a loose end and that he was drawn by the thought of seeing me again.  We went to the same restaurant and this time we talked more intimately about our lives.  He was a baronet with properties in London, Hungerford, Wemyss and more.  He had no profession but was the son of a shipbuilder and he was gentleman and the chairman of a shipping company.  I was the illegitimate daughter of an actress and a married violinist.  I divulged to him that my father had been the Queen’s violin player and band leader.  He, of course, had met the Queen and had socialized with the Prince Royal.  I had been working since I was eighteen years of age, he had been to Cambridge and obtained a law degree, been a member of Parliament and lived a life of luxury.  We were very different people, but we could talk and talk we did.  He returned me to my lodgings late, much to the consternation of the landlady but as I slipped into that hard little bed that night, for the first time in two years, I felt a lightness and hope.  I had a feeling that I would see him again tomorrow night. 

I did not even need to wait that long to hear from him.  That afternoon a package arrived at the lodging house for me.  It was a large box containing the most delicious pelisse of the most sumptuous fabric in a deep blue colour with lighter blue trims.  The perfect addition to a Scottish winter wardrobe I knew that it would be what I was wearing when I exited the theatre this evening.   I snuggled myself in it, smiling as I imagined seeing him this evening and wondered where this might go.  I had only known him two days, but I wanted to know more, much more.  I was not completely inexperienced in the ways of men, I had been an actress for eight years now and I had been wooed at the stage door before with pretty jewels, flowers, and nice dinners at nice restaurants.  I had also modelled for many an artist between my jobs on stage.  I was aware that my lustrous dark hair, large dark eyes, and alabaster skin made me attractive to men.  I was petite and my ingenue act was easy to carry from the stage to an artist’s studio.  I was happy to spend a day or more posing and it was an undemanding way to supplement my income, but I had learnt quickly to leave any shyness or excess propriety at the door.  I had to be comfortable in my own skin as I often shed my clothes so a man could paint my likeness however, I had never allowed myself to form any relationship with any of the men who had presented themselves to me.  Whether I was posing for an artist or dancing and singing on a stage, I remained respectable in every other part of my life.  I had experienced one or two brief courtships, but I had not experienced love.  This time it was different.  Maybe I was just tired of the touring and needed a change, but I was considering my options and wondered whether he might be the man in whom I would find love.

We met every night after the curtain had dropped but it was not until the last night that he kissed me for the first time.  We were in his Brougham carriage, driving along the docks as he was showing me his yacht, his amazing yacht and then he leant forward, gazed into my eyes, and asked me if I would mind if he kissed me.  Would I mind?  I would not!  I did not!  His lips on mine were the most heavenly thing I’d ever experienced.  We stayed in the carriage, curtains drawn, and embraced for half an hour or more and then he said that he pitied his driver sitting in the cold and we made slowly for my lodgings.  It was then that he asked whether I would like him to arrange different lodgings for me in Glasgow for tomorrow night.  The company was moving from Greenock to Glasgow for two weeks and, knowing this, he had made enquiries and found me higher quality, more private rooms.  I looked at him and was able to read both his face and his words clearly.  These rooms were not just rooms, they were an invitation.  An agreement.  A promise and it was a promise that I was only too happy to make.  In him, I thought, I had found someone who would look after me, something I had never had before.

I could not remember my mother as she died when I was an infant.  I had grown up in my grandmother’s house and was fourteen before I was told the truth about my father.  A musician, he had met my mother at the theatre where he was playing in one of the shows where she had been a part of the chorus.  They had a fleeting relationship, he was married, and I was the result.  He had not been interested in taking responsibility for me and had left my mother cold, claiming that he needed to protect his reputation as an employee of the Queen and that he had other children who were to become his prodigies.  I used his name every now and then on formal documents, but I decided to honour my mother and used her name as my stage name – Florrie Angelo.  My grandmother could not afford to keep me once I was old enough to work and so I did the only thing I knew to do, I joined the theatre.  It would have been ideal if I had been able to undertake some training, maybe some singing or dancing tutelage, but I did not have the money for this and so I started with the smallest of parts in the chorus.  Fortunately for me, being on stage seemed to come quite naturally for me, I was blessed with my mother’s talent, and within a couple of years I was being offered small named roles.  My singing voice was pretty and delicate, I danced well and in addition, in appearance, I was a dainty, feminine, attractive woman and I looked good on the stage.  In the beginning I was a bit nervous but once I had got a handle this then my reviews started to change from the initial ones which said that I would do better “when I have mastered my nervousness and have learned to speak their lines to as to be heard” to the later ones that said I was “pretty, piquant and charming” and “engaging and capable” as well as delivering my role with “intelligence and grace.”  It was thrilling to see my name in the papers, and I thought that the larger roles would start to be offered to me, however, after touring for almost two years, with various theatre companies, I seemed no closer to breaking into the London scene.  I was, though, now touring with an influential and respected company, and I was enjoying the feeling of being a part of such a reputable name.  The London Lyric Theatre Company was under the direction of Mr. Tom B Davis, and he was not only experienced and brilliant, but he was kind and thoughtful and his company was a happy group to be touring with nevertheless it was still touring.  I was still living my life on the move getting on and off trains, sometimes sitting for hours in a siding waiting for another train to come by that we could tack on to with our Pullman carriages and scenery trucks and move to the next city.  I would then have to seek lodgings, unpacking for a week before getting on that train again and going to a new place to do the whole thing all over again and having to pay my own way and accommodation was expensive in some of the larger towns.  On our trips to Ireland, we even had to catch ferries and could not afford cabins so sat on the deck for the whole night trying to keep dry when it rained and not soil ourselves when the seas were angry and high.  At the beginning, it had been exciting and an adventure but now it was wearing on me, as was saying the same lines, singing the same songs and dancing the same dances every single night and I wanted some stability and a change from the constant change in location and the monotony of the same performances.  I was starting to feel that just maybe the stability I craved was now closer than ever.  As I settled on the train and headed to Glasgow, I felt tremors at the thoughts of what tonight might mean for me and bring to me.

I was met at the train station by a man who led me to a coach.  I had let the other girls of the chorus know that I had sorted by lodgings prior and would not be needing to hunt out lodgings with them so I quickly, without inviting attention, slipped into the carriage, and was taken to my lodgings for the next two weeks.  It was an upmarket guesthouse with a discreet landlady who was obviously used to turning a blind eye.  I was led to my room and as the door opened, the scent of fresh flowers assaulted my senses.  He had arranged to fill my room with the most beautiful blooms and as I drank in their scent and sat on the window seat to look at the views over the park, I noticed a letter propped on the small table and a box with a scarlet ribbon around it.  I quickly reached for the letter and read its contents – I was to be met after the show this evening and would be brought straight back to my rooms where my evening meal would be ready, and he would be waiting.  Opening the box, I found the most beautiful broderie anglaise nightgown and holding it against my body I knew that I would look irresistible when I wore it for him.  I called for the maid and ordered a bath to be drawn in front of the fire.  As I sank into the warm water, I wrapped my arms around myself and pinched myself to be sure I was not dreaming.  I knew that tonight’s performance would seem to take forever when all I wanted to do was to be here in this room in his arms.  I was sick with love for this man.

The next two weeks were the stuff that dreams were made of.  He had not intended to stay in Glasgow for this long but because of me, he did.  We spent our evenings together.  I would finish at the theatre and come out to find a carriage waiting for me and would be whisked back to my rooms where he would be waiting with the finest of food and wine.  Some nights we would eat straight away but many nights would see me fall into his arms and he would undress me and take me to bed straight away, leaving the food for when we had built up an appetite.  We started speaking about the future but, I will admit, we did not spend much time talking when the time seemed better suited to making love.  I would look forward to his coming, having no longer the slightest doubt that his affection was genuine.  The two weeks flew by and before I knew it, I was boarding a train for London.  The tour had come to an end, and we were all being returned to London.  He was heading to Brighton until the end of April when he hoped that we would be able to reunite in London. 

The next time we saw each other was in the summer of 1900.  We were both in London, me at my grandmother’s boarding house waiting for more work and he returning to his city residence.  We met a few times for a meal at Café de l’Europe or Oddedino’s and whilst we fell easily into conversation, I could tell that things were different from when we were together in Greenock and Glasgow.  There were no invitations to his rooms, no occasions where we could be alone, we always met in public places.  The theatres started closing as summer set in and I was engaged for yet another tour, this time I was heading to Scarborough for the summer season.  Being near the seaside sounded amusing but I did not want to leave him, and I began asking more questions about why things were so different for us in London, and it was then that I got the truth out of him.  I suppose I was not completely shocked when he admitted that there was somebody else and that there had been for many years.  No, he was not married but he had kept formerly well-known actress as his mistress for many years now.  She lived in one of his London residences and he would not be letting her go.  He hadn’t thought that he would need to tell me as he did not think that we would see each other after Glasgow but he felt drawn to me and now he felt that he had to be honest with me.  As I mentioned, I was probably not as shocked as I might have been, I had figured that a successful man like him would not be alone, but I will admit to hoping that he was.  Now I had to decide, he wanted to keep seeing me, but he was not prepared to give up the other woman.  Was I really prepared to be mistress number two?  If they had been married then I would have been simply his mistress, was this so very different then?  He suggested that I take the time I was away to think further, and I could let him know my decision upon my return.  I suppose I respected him for leaving the decision in my hands but as I left for my summer of work, I found that it was not a decision that I thought would come easily to me.

Scarborough was as I expected it would be.  Whilst it was nice being by the seaside for summer and the other cast members and I got to enjoy some of the seaside fun, my thoughts too often strayed to him and how my life might look if I allowed myself to become involved with him.  However, Florodora was hugely successful in Scarborough and every few performances I was given the opportunity to move out of the English girls and get to play Angela, this was exciting as I loved the chance to get out of the chorus line and show how good I could be in a title role.  I kept thinking that if I were to get more title roles then my decision might be made easier as the offer of support might not be as necessary.  I had always wanted to become a star, to get to where my mother did not but as I headed back to London with the rest of the company, I was no closer to making my decision than I was when we had departed seven weeks earlier.  Should I keep channeling my energies into my life as an actress or should I take the risk on love and affection?

We met soon after my return to London and this time, with his mother in Glasgow, he asked if I would like to come to his apartment in Hyde Park Gardens.  We had not been intimately involved since our time together in Glasgow and I am not ashamed to say that the thought of sharing his bed again stirred many feelings within me and I felt drawn to return there.  I was still performing at the Lyric Theatre eight times a week but for two weeks in November I spent every night in his bed and in his arms.  I do not know where his other lover was and I did not ask, I only wanted to be with him and each day that I returned to the chorus line at the Lyric Theatre I questioned how long I was prepared to live like this.  Was I better being a chorus girl with the occasional chance at a larger role or a gentleman’s second mistress?  Was there anything more for an illegitimate actress who had been trying to get major roles for seven years now but who still never knew where her next job was coming from?   Was there anything more for a woman who was tired of surviving on her own with little support from her family and who had a father who refused to acknowledge her existence?

I remained with the company of Florodora for another six months, joining the company for yet another provincial tour that led me back to Edinburgh and Glasgow.  It was a year since I had met him in Greenock and it was in Glasgow, back in the rooms he had arranged for me a year ago, that I made the decision that I would take a chance and be with him, whatever that meant.  I handed my resignation to Mr. Davis and when the company moved on, I boarded a different train and headed to Wemyss where I met my love at his manor house overlooking the Firth of Clyde.  I spent most of spring of 1902 at Cardell with its wonderful views.  My love was not there all the time, he had shooting and fishing events planned and at one stage had to entertain the Royal party even so after over two years of almost constant travel with Mr. Davis and with other companies, I was simply content to just stay still.  The staff at Cardell House were accepting of me and my presence and I was careful not to ask too much of them, I was just happy to wander along the beach and sit and watch the view or to spend time in one of the palm houses or the orchid house.  When there was inclement weather, the house was so large that I could go hours without coming across another soul.  There were also three acres of land to explore on foot and on request, one of the stablemen would prepare a horse for me to take on longer adventures.  I got very used to my own company but was always so happy to see him when he came back.  When we were reunited, we would spend time laughing in the billiard room as he taught me to play billiards because if the Queen herself could play then so could Florrie!  In quieter moments, we would sit in happy, comfortable silence reading in the library catching each other’s eye every now and then and sharing a snippet of what we were reading.  On a few occasions we even made the trip back to the Theatre Royal in Glasgow to watch another touring show and we would reminisce about our meeting.

Early in summer I returned to my grandmother’s house in London and my time with him became more sporadic.  He not only did not want his other mistress to know of me similarly he did not want his pious mother to know of me either therefore we could only really see each other when they were not in London.  We managed the occasional public dinner and the even more seldom private meeting, but I soon realized that even an occasional intimate meeting could lead to a more permanent outcome.  It was late 1901 when I realized that I was with child and there was no doubt who the father was, I had only experienced that level of intimacy with one man, my baronet.  I wrote asking for him to make time to see me privately on his next return to London and it was then that I shared the news.  I paced nervously around the pools of the Italian Gardens in Hyde Park, waiting to see him walk in from his rooms in Hyde Park Gardens.  I did not know what his reaction to my news would be and feared that he might cast me aside and if that happened, I did not know what I would do.  What would my grandmother say?  Her illegitimate granddaughter was now in the same situation that her daughter had been, unmarried with a child on the way.  I hoped beyond anything else that he would be true to me and not desert me.  I saw him from the corner of my eye and my heartbeat in my throat as I watched him walk across the paving stones to where I was standing, my parasol low over my face, hiding me from those walking past.  He nodded and we walked silently together out of the busy Italian Gardens into the quieter, more private park so that I could share my news.  He was a forty-year-old unmarried man at this stage and was, I am completely astounded and relieved to say, very happy at the news that he was to father a child.  I left the park feeling like a weight had been lifted from me and caressing my belly, I allowed myself to look forward to my future with a sense of excitement.

  He typically went into organizational mode and found me a house in the town of Hungerford, only a few miles from his country house.  We made a story about me being his cousin whose husband had died and that he was supporting me by setting me up in Hungerford.  I do not think that anyone in Hungerford particularly cared.  I was able to have my cousin Adele visit me when she was not teaching, and he visited when he could, and I found that I was not lonely, I had got used to my own company when I was living at Cardell.  If I was on my own, I could talk and sing to my unborn babe or walk in the fields and forests around the town.  I was properly content for the first time in my life and even though it was not perfect, I never forgot that I was an unmarried mother about to give birth to an illegitimate child, I was happy.   I was illegitimate, my father was illegitimate, and things had worked out for us and so I had every reason to expect that my child would have a successful life knowing they were loved and wanted.

In July 1902 I gave birth to a little boy.  I called him Giovanni after my grandfather and my love called him Johnnie.  His father was in Scotland when he was born but met him when he was three months old and lavished him and I with attention and gifts.  Giovanni and I quickly settled into our routines and with the additional help my baronet had included in our household, we built a little home full of laughter and song.  We had happiness in our village and the town folk were kind and accepting of me and my baby (although they knew him as Johnnie too).  They would stop me in the streets to coo over him and I was happy to show him off to anyone who wanted to see him.  I was so proud of my baby boy and was going to be sure that he was given all the love and attention that I had missed out on.  Giovanni grew strong and healthy and happy, adored by his father and me.  I loved watching him grow and discover new things and I spent many hours sitting on a chair in my small garden watching him toddle about collecting leaves and bugs to show me.  I had a nursemaid but was happy to do most things for him myself.  He was the true love of my life; my only baby boy and he was everything to me.  It was completely devastating that he could not fight the fever he contracted in May 1904.  He woke poorly one morning, and we bathed him in cool bathes, administering water and broth for a few days but there was no improvement and my love called in the doctor.  We tried everything but within a month, my bonny baby continued to deteriorate, and nothing, not science, not nursing and not even my prayers and intense love could not save him.  We buried Giovanni in June in a quiet private burial so his father could be there and not drawing any attention to himself and from that day forward my life became smaller and meaningless.  My baronet was so saddened by his son’s death and felt that I was somehow to blame for what had happened and once my baby was buried under the ground his father left my life leaving only a small trickle of money to keep me going.  He went back to his other actress, and I was left to try and put together the fragments of my life on my own.  He moved quickly and less than a year after our baby’s death, the man I loved married his other woman leaving me alone again.  I had no desire to return to the theatre but was fortunate that the money trickling in from the baronet, supplemented with money from my Angeloni relatives, my father, and a bequest from my grandmother, I was able to live a comfortable life with my cousin.  Comfortable, yes.  Happy, no. I simply existed.  Teaching singing now and then, moving from one house to another trying to find contentment and peace.  For years I searched but I do not think I ever felt properly happy ever again and in 1915, I stopped searching.  I stopped trying.  It was time to see my baby again, there was nothing left for me on earth.

 

Florrie’s truth

On the 27th July 1915, Florence Victorine Buziau’s life came to an abrupt and violent end.  Her death certificate reads “Shock hemorrhage severance of the aorta due to bullet wound fired from revolver by deceased.  Did kill herself.  Temporarily insane.[1]”  She was buried in the Angeloni family plot with her mother and grandparents in the beautiful Victorian Brompton cemetery.  I have tried to find her there to pay my respects but cannot locate the grave and suspect that it may have either been damaged or is in an overgrown section that I cannot access.

Born illegitimately in 1874 to actress Antonia (Anny) Angeloni and the married Jacob Victor Buziau, Florence was brought up in a working-class household.  Her grandfather was a cook but had several documented run-ins with the law and her grandmother ended up supporting the family by running a boarding house for several decades.  I cannot ascertain whether Victor (as he was known) Buziau had anything to do with his daughter.  He maintained a successful career as a violinist and composer, being on the books as Queen Victoria’s violinist for many years.  He also kept up an active concert schedule (maybe where he met actress and singer Anny?) and in his later years often performed with his legitimate daughter Nina.

The first records I have found of Florrie Angelo on stage are in the entertainment sections of the papers.  In December 1895 a reviewer remarks that “Miss Florrie Angelo and Miss Louie Danby as Ada and Gussie will do better when they have mastered their nervousness and learnt to speak their lines so as to be heard.”  Florrie may have taken this comment on board as in March 1896 the review of the touring production of The Shop Girl states, “Miss Florrie Angelo makes a pretty, piquant, and charming ‘Shop Girl’ and her singing of the song ‘Louisiana Lou’, is said to be one of the happiest hits in the comedy.”.  Florrie is on and off the stage for the seven years gaining plaudits – “Florrie Angelo won golden opinions”, “Miss Florrie Angelo, a very engaging and capable artiste” however also experiencing long periods of time where she seemed to struggle to gain employment.  This was not an unusual situation for actresses like Florrie as there were so many girls vying for the same positions and most of them hoping that they would get their big break and manage a contract for a London stage.  Florrie gaining a place with Mr. Tom B Davis’s Lyric Theatre touring group would have been seen as being a positive thing.  Mr. Davis had built a credible reputation, and his productions were well reviewed and attracted large audiences and Florrie spent a few years touring with him.  It seems very odd to me, looking at the favourable reviews, that suddenly Florrie drops off the radar in about 1901 and ceases to appear in any theatre reviews or columns.  She simply vanishes and there are no more mentions of her until her death in 1915.

I found little Giovanni Angeloni on a genealogy website.  All I found of him was his birth and death dates.  He does not appear to have been baptized so I do not have the names of his parents.  I do not think it totally unreasonable to assume that he was Florrie’s son, but I have absolutely no proof.  I also have no proof of when Florrie and Sir William George met.  My only firm evidence of their connection is in the papers I found in the files kept at Trinity College Cambridge.  The most formal of these is the indenture that was made in April 1905.  It is a legal agreement made between Sir William George Pearce, Baronet of Chilton Lodge, Hungerford in the County of Berks (hereafter called the Settlor) of the first part Florence Buzian (u) of No 20 Mornington Crescent in the county of Middlesex (Herein after called the Annuitant).  The indenture reveals that “the Settlor has agreed to make provision for the Annuitant in manner hereinafter appearing and WHEREAS the Settlor has transferred or is about to transfer into the joint names of the Trustees 140 fully paid 8 per cent preference shares of £10 each in the New England Breweries Company Limited.  It goes on to explain the terms of the agreement and how Florence will be paid two instalments a year unless she marries and if she does, she will be made a final and once off payment of £1000.  The final clause states “The Annuitant doth hereby declare that she accepts the provision made for her benefit by these presents in full and complete satisfaction of all claims or demands whatsoever (if any) she may have or allege to have against the settlor, his executors or administrators[2]”.  Whichever way you look at it this looks very much like hush money to me and the only reason I could think an actress would need hush money from a Baronet is because she was intimately involved with him.  When he died, she was given a lump sum payment from Trinity College and that was the end of her involvement with Sir William George.

It is worth noting that Florence did not die a poor woman.  The London Gazette appealed for claimants to her estate shortly after her death – “Notice is hereby given, that all creditors and persons having claims or demands against the estate of Florence Victorine Buziau (also known as Florence Angelo) late of 42 Bartholomew Road, Kentish Town are required to send particulars” and her public probate informs “Florence Victorine Buzian (sic) of 42 Bartholomew Road, Kentish Town, Middlesex, spinster, died 27 July 1915, Probate London 12 October to the Public Trustee.  Effects £960 19s 4d.  Florrie Angelo was not penniless, but she was destroyed enough by her life to wish to end it.

 

[1] Death certificate and some family information shared by distant relatives of Florrie – Paul Gentry and Mark Busio

[2] Pearce Papers, Trinity College Special Collections, University of Cambridge

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