All That Glitters
Of the eight children her mother gave birth to, Glynnis Norwell was one of only three to live past the age of five. Poverty coupled with poor sanitation made early survival in the St. Giles slum of Central London precarious, at best. Tragic though the loss of a child is, pessimists sometimes view the death of one so young as a blessing in disguise, a way of sparing another innocent soul a life of wretched misery. For Glynnis, though, life, however hard it might be, was precious and meant to be cherished.
When she was only ten, she was sent to work in a laundry where twelve-hour days were not uncommon. Unable to read or write—since a proper education was only available to the children of well-off families, not those like the Norwells—the only escape available to Glynnis from her daily drudgery was through her daydreams. Fortunately, she was born with a vivid imagination. It enabled her to see a world beyond the overcrowded tenements and crime-ridden streets to a place of grand palaces surrounded by flowers, fountains and green lawns. Even in her youthful innocence, she realized such dreams were not within her reach. There would never be a Prince Charming to rescue her from squalor and carry her off on a white steed to his pristine castle. The lives of impoverished girls in early-nineteenth-century London did not have happily ever after endings.
One person who loomed large in her fanciful musings was Alexandrina Victoria, daughter of the Duke of Kent and Strathearn and granddaughter of King George III, who from the age of eighteen ruled as Queen Victoria of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and from whom the era would later take its name. Although she was only seven at the time, Glynnis remembered the excitement surrounding the young monarch's coronation.
Now, the queen was to be married. The owner of the laundry where the young girl worked agreed to give the women in his employ time off (without pay, of course) on the day of the wedding if they wanted to catch a glimpse of the bride as the royal procession traveled from Buckingham Palace to St. James Palace, where the couple were to be married in the Chapel Royal. Regardless of the loss of pay, Glynnis could not miss such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Despite the heavy rain that fell on that memorable February day, the young laundress journeyed out at daybreak to join the crowds near the royal palaces. It was not until half-past eleven that the procession began, however. By that time, Glynnis's clothing was soaked through to her skin. Her body shivering and her teeth chattering, she endured the cold temperatures and rainy weather with a smile. However, due to her small stature, she had difficulty seeing over the heads of the people standing in front of her.
"Here they come!" one of the spectators suddenly shouted. "They're heading our way now."
Tears immediately filled Glynnis's eyes and mingled with the raindrops on her cheeks. She had walked all the way from St. Giles, endured the elements for several hours and forfeited half a day's wages—all for naught!
"Why are you crying, child?" the gentleman on her right asked, looking down at the unhappy little girl.
"I can't see anything."
The man smiled, leaned over, picked her up and hoisted her onto his shoulders.
"How's that?"
"Much better. Thank you. I ...."
Her voice faltered when she caught her first glimpse of the procession.
"I wonder which carriage is the queen's," she said.
"None of those," the handsome young man explained. "There, in the third coach, is the Duke of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. Riding with him are his two sons, Ernest and Albert."
"And Albert is the one who will be our new king."
"Not exactly. He'll be Victoria's husband, but he won't be king."
At ten years old, Glynnis could not grasp the contradictions in the monarchy. If a king's wife became queen upon marriage, why didn't a queen's husband become king? As the Duke's carriage passed in front of her and she caught a glimpse of his younger son, all questions concerning royal titles fled from her mind.
"He looks like Prince Charming."
"No. I've met Prince Charming," the gentleman teased her. "He's got blond hair whereas Albert's hair is dark."
When the little girl stared down at him, her eyes wide with wonder, he laughed and admitted his comment was made in jest.
The groom having passed by, people eagerly awaited the appearance of the bride. It was nearly half an hour later that a twenty-one-gun salute signaled that the queen was entering her carriage. Anticipation mounted. Necks craned in the direction of Buckingham Palace. Finally, the moment arrived.
"It's the queen!" a man's voice rang out.
Still sitting on the gentleman's shoulders, Glynnis had an excellent view of the Gold State Coach and its team of Windsor Greys.
"It's a carriage made of gold!" the little girl cried when she was finally able to speak.
"Actually, it's made of gilded wood," the gentleman explained.
The young spectator did not particularly care what materials were used in the coach's construction. Despite what Shakespeare said, to her at least, all that glittered was gold.
When the gilded carriage was directly in front of them, Glynnis saw something even more beautiful than the royal carriage: the passenger inside it. Dressed in a white gown—not the traditional outfit for brides in 1840—Queen Victoria wore a wreath of orange blossoms and myrtle on her head and a lace wedding veil.
"She's so beautiful!" the little girl exclaimed.
Once the coach passed from view, the crowd broke up. Most people returned to their homes or their places of employment. Others sought protection from the rain. Glynnis, her clothes dripping wet, would head to the laundry. A partial day's pay was better than none.
"Thank you," she told the gentleman when he lowered her thin, undernourished body to the ground.
"It was a pleasure, M'lady," he said with an exaggerated bow.
The little girl giggled at his display of gallantry.
"Goodbye, sir. I've got to hurry off to work now."
"Goodbye. You take care of yourself."
As the cold, wet little girl hurried off to the laundry, her head was full of images of Victoria and Albert and of a handsome young gentleman who, like one of King Arthur's fabled knights, performed an act of chivalry that she would never forget.
* * *
For the next eleven years, the poor girl from St. Giles cherished her memories of the queen's wedding. Although her own bleak existence offered little cause for happiness, she experienced pleasure vicariously through newsworthy events in the queen's life. She rejoiced when Victoria and Albert became parents for the first time and every time thereafter. Although she had never actually seen them, she remembered Little Victoria, Albert Edward, Alice, Alfred, Helena, Louise and Arthur in her prayers every night.
Meanwhile, Glynnis's mother had three more children. One died in infancy, one lived to the age of four and the last showed signs of making it to adulthood. Unlike in the royal household where babies were welcomed, in St. Giles they represented an additional drain on the already overburdened family.
"Another mouth to feed!" was the usual lamentation of parents of newborns.
One thing the Norwells were grateful for was that Glynnis never got married and was still bringing in a steady, if not significant, income. How long that would last was yet to be seen. At the age of sixteen, she developed a cough that worsened with time. It wasn't long before the already thin girl began to lose weight, and her face took on an unhealthy pallor.
No one dared utter the word, but it came to every person's mind when they saw her: consumption. Often referred to as the white plague due to the paleness of its sufferers' complexion, it was the leading cause of death in the Western world at the time.
Each year, on the anniversary of her birth, she gave a silent prayer of thanks that she had been granted another year of life. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. By the age of twenty, she was so pale and thin that she seemed more a specter of the next world than an inhabitant of the one in which she lived. As her twenty-first birthday neared, the chronic cough worsened, as did the pain in her chest. She frequently suffered bouts of fever, sweating and chills, all of which contributed to exhaustion and loss of stamina. Although she courageously maintained a calm acceptance of her illness—even when she was coughing up blood into her handkerchief—she secretly doubted she would live to be twenty-two.
Then, in the spring of 1851, Londoners eagerly awaited what was called the Great Exhibition of the Works of Industry of All Nations. Held in Hyde Park, the exhibition opened on the fifteenth of May. To house the approximately fourteen thousand exhibitors from around the world, a huge cast iron and plate glass building was constructed, nearly one million square feet in size. As impressive as the Crystal Palace was itself, it was the nearly ten miles of exhibits inside that were to draw six million visitors to Hyde Park. Textiles, machinery, surgical equipment, musical instruments and other wonders of the Industrial Revolution were put on display. Items such as Samuel Colt's firearms, Mathew Brady's daguerreotypes, the Koh-i-Noor (then the largest diamond known to man) and the Daria-i-Noor (a rare pink diamond) drew such luminaries as Charles Dickens, Karl Marx, Charlotte Brontë, Charles Darwin, Lewis Carroll and the queen herself.
Glynnis claimed that since illness frequently kept her from working a full day at the laundry—it was only through the kindness of her employer that she managed to keep her job—she could not afford the cost of a ticket. However, even when the price of admission dropped, she did not attend. She barely had the strength to remain on her feet throughout the day, much less make her way through the crowds at the Crystal Palace.
I may not get to see the Exhibition, she thought, keeping her positive outlook until the end, but at least I lived to see my twenty-first birthday.
There was little doubt it was to be her last one. Now the first day of each new month became a milestone of survival. June. July. August. September. On the first of October, the sense of personal accomplishment she felt for having survived another month was dimmed by the fact that the Great Exhibition would come to a close on the fifteenth.
Two more weeks and it will all be over.
Oddly enough, that realization was cause for more sadness than her imminent passing. Death did not frighten her. As a wise man once said, "Dying is easy; living is harder." As she sensed her final days drawing near, she tried not to think about all that she had missed out on in life: marriage, motherhood, an education, travel. The only regret she did have as she felt the grim reaper looming in her shadow was not having attended the Great Exhibition. Everyone she knew, even her parents and siblings, had attended.
Glynnis woke that October morning feeling drained of strength. She had not had a restful sleep the night before, alternately sweating and shivering throughout the night.
"Maybe you should stay home from work today," her mother suggested, her face clouded with sorrow.
"No. I'll be all right once I have a bit of gruel."
"There's a crust of bead left over from last night. Have that, too."
"I don't have much of an appetite."
"You need to build up your strength. No wonder you're always tired; you're nothing but skin and bones."
The sick girl forced herself to eat, more to please her mother than to nourish her wasting body.
"I better be on my way," she announced, getting up from the table. "I don't want to be late."
Despite her fatigue, she made it to the laundry. Upon arrival, she immediately began to work. She kept several handkerchiefs in her pocket so as not to stain the freshly laundered clothing with blood or phlegm when she coughed, which was frequently. At midday she had a particularly bad spell in which she coughed so hard, she thought she might choke to death.
"I think it best you go home early today," her employer suggested.
"I'll be fine," she assured him.
"You go home and get some rest. There'll still be plenty of work here for you tomorrow."
Glynnis noticed the faces of her fellow employees. Their eyes expressed both compassion and fear; for although they had sympathy for the dying woman, they all believed consumption was a contagious disease.
"A few hours' sleep might be nice at that," she said and managed to twist the lower part of her face into something that resembled a smile.
The thin shawl she wore around her shoulders did little to warm her thin, shivering body when she encountered a gust of October wind. Her eyes teared from the cold, and she wished she were home in bed already. Rather than remain on the busy street, she chose to take a shortcut through a little-used alley, a route that would save her considerable time. Although the narrow roadway was a notorious refuge for pickpockets, cutpurses and prostitutes, it would be relatively safe at that hour. Besides, she had nothing anyone would want to steal.
I don't know if I can make it. Could this be it for me? Glynnis wondered, feeling as though walking required a monumental effort.
She forced herself to take one more step. Then another. And another. A severe coughing spell left her leaning against a wall for support as she wiped the blood from her mouth with a handkerchief. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she longed to see her mother one last time.
If I can just make it to the next street before I collapse. I don't want to die in this dark, narrow alley.
Only by force of will did she manage to keep going. She made it to the corner. People were hurrying by, all of them in a rush to get to their destinations. They reminded her of ants scurrying about an anthill. Delivery wagons lumbered down the road, their drivers trying to avoid hitting the pedestrians. Then a gleam of light in her peripheral vision caught Glynnis's attention. She turned her head to see what it was.
She stopped and stared.
"It can't be real!" she cried, as the carriage headed up the street.
Exquisite as it had appeared on the queen's rainy wedding day, the Gold State Coach outdid itself as it glistened in the midday sun. What was it doing in St. Giles? It was only used on official state celebrations.
As the glittering horse-drawn vehicle neared, the poor girl was racked by yet another brutal coughing spell. For the first time in her life, her indominable spirit failed her. Her body slowly slid down the side of a building and onto the ground.
Please, God, don't let me die here on the street. Give me the strength to make it home.
"Are you all right, miss?"
The voice broke through her pain, and she turned her head in its direction. The sun was shining directly behind the man, making it impossible for her to distinguish the features of his face. All she saw with any clarity was a halo-like glow around his head.
She attempted to speak, but her words were consumed by her coughing.
"Here, let me help you up," the young man offered.
Strong arms raised her to her feet and supported her as she stood.
"My carriage is right here. Can you make it?"
Glynnis tried to lift her foot, but all her strength was gone.
"Never mind. I'll carry you."
The man's kind gesture required little effort on his part since the ailing woman weighed no more than a child.
Once secure in the young man's arms, Glynnis felt safe. Warmth returned to her shivering body, and the urge to cough vanished.
Maybe I won't die just yet. Maybe with some rest, I can live to see another day.
"I think I can walk now," she managed to say.
"No need. Save your strength."
Although the man was a stranger to her, she put up no resistance when he placed her inside the carriage. The cushioned seat beneath her was soft and comfortable, and she closed her eyes and rested her head. Ironically, in her twenty-one years of life, she had always traveled by foot. Yet now that she was dying, she was going to have her first carriage ride.
As the vehicle made its way through the crowded London streets, Glynnis briefly wondered why the stranger had not asked for her address.
What does it matter? she thought, accepting whatever fate lay in store for her. It's better to die in the comfort of this carriage than in an alley in St. Giles.
"You must be hungry," the stranger said. "I'll stop and get us something to eat."
"Thank you," she said.
Having recovered some of her stamina since meeting the stranger, she hoped food would further increase her strength.
"Why don't you get some rest now?" the stranger suggested.
The idea of sleep so appealed to Glynnis that she asked no questions and put up no resistance. The movement of the carriage, like the rocking of a baby's cradle, lulled her into a peaceful slumber.
* * *
"We're here."
The voice seemed to be calling to Glynnis from a great distance. Her eyes slowly fluttered open in response. When she leaned forward to look out the carriage window, she was amazed at what she saw.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"This is Hyde Park, and that is the Crystal Palace."
"What are we doing here?" she asked, her eyes bright with joy like a child's.
"I told you we'd stop and get something to eat. This is as good a place as any other."
The stranger opened the door, got out of the carriage and then waited beside it to help his passenger down. When she stepped out of the dark vehicle and into the light of day, Glynnis finally got a good look at the man's face.
"It's you!" she cried out in surprise, recognizing him at once. "You're the gentlemasn who put me on his shoulders so that I could see the queen go past on her wedding day."
The stranger confirmed her presumption with a smile and nod of his head.
"At your service, M'lady."
"But that was eleven years ago. You don't look a day older."
"Let's go inside," he said, taking her by the arm to lead her toward the Crystal Palace.
Despite her earlier exhaustion, the young woman felt fine. Even the pain in her chest was gone.
"For months, I've dreamed about this place," she confessed as they neared the immense glass building. "But I never imagined I would live to see it."
"I couldn't let you down now, Glynnis. Could I?"
He knows my name, but I never told it to him.
Dozens of questions buzzed around her brain like a swarm of angry bees. But she was not about to waste precious time asking them. Here she was at the Great Exhibition, and—for the time being at least—she felt as though she could climb Mt. Everest.
"I've heard tell there's a diamond here that's as big as my fist!"
"It's not quite that big," the gentleman chuckled. "But it is the largest one ever found."
So eager was she to see the amazing sites inside the Crystal Palace, that she quickened her pace to a slow run.
"Not so fast!" the gentleman cautioned. "You don't want to tire yourself out before you've even stepped inside."
Upon entering the exhibition hall, Glynnis felt dwarfed by the more than one hundred foot ceiling of the central transept. Sunlight streamed down through its semicircular shaped glass roof, making it just as bright on the inside as it was outdoors. The girl was left speechless by the garden-like setting, which included two fully grown trees that were on the grounds before the building went up as well as shrubs, statues and a large fountain. It was like being in a fairy tale, and she was Cinderella. The only problem was, there was so much to see that she did not know where to look first.
"It's so BIG!" she cried. "How is it possible to see it all?"
"You visit the exhibits that most appeal to you. I don't think many young ladies have a keen interest in hydraulic presses or steam engines."
"That's true."
"Why don't we start with my favorite exhibits?" the gentleman suggested.
"Which are those?"
"The ones sent from India."
Surprisingly, the consumptive girl had the stamina to keep up with her guide as he navigated through the crowd. Although she frequently asked him to stop, it was to view some marvelous invention, not to give her body a rest.
"Ah, here it is," the gentleman announced.
Glynnis saw the elaborate throne carved out of ivory and agreed that it was remarkable. Another display that caught her attention was a coat embroidered with pearls, emeralds and rubies. But what really astonished her was a stunning howdah and all its trappings, fit for a rajah, displayed on a life-size stuffed elephant.
"There are no words to describe how beautiful everything is. I can't thank you enough for bringing me here."
"It's my pleasure, Glynnis."
"You know my name, but I don't know yours."
"Why don't we go see the Koh-i-Noor now?" the gentleman asked, politely ignoring her attempt to discover his identity. "It's one of the most popular exhibits here, and there's always a queue to see it."
Does it matter who he is? she asked herself as they headed toward the eastern part of the central gallery where the famous diamond was on display. I shall simply think of him as the Good Samaritan or, better yet, as my Fairy Godfather.
"We're in luck," the gentleman announced. "There aren't too many people ahead of us."
Glynnis waited patiently at his side as they inched closer and closer to the Koh-i-Noor. When those in front of her finally left, she had a good view of the diamond. It was placed inside a gilded birdcage for safekeeping.
"That's it?" she asked, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice.
"Yes."
"I've never seen a diamond before, but I always heard that they sparkled like glitter."
"Not all of them do. It depends on how they are cut. No doubt a skilled diamond cutter could bring out the adamantine luster of the gem and capture all that fire and brilliance."
"Now I understand that expression 'a diamond in the rough.' I don't ...."
For the first time since entering the gentleman's carriage, Glynnis Norwell began to cough. Once she began, she could not stop. Blood and phlegm spewed out, and she frantically searched her pocket for her handkerchief.
* * *
As Edgar Selders, Lord Whittlesey, rode through the streets of London, his thoughts were on his wife, who was at the couple's country estate, awaiting the birth of their first child. He longed to be by her side, but urgent business made the trip to the city necessary. Given a choice, he would surely have chosen the tranquility and fresh air of the countryside to the noise and filth of London.
In a few days, I'll be home, he consoled himself, closing his eyes and forming a mental picture of the grand manor house that, along with the title, had been passed down to him from his father.
All of a sudden, the carriage came to a jarring stop, wrenching the young earl from his pleasant reveries.
"What's going on?" he called to the driver through the window.
"It's a young girl, sir," the man replied. "She just ... she stumbled out onto the street. I couldn't stop."
Edgar immediately exited the carriage to see if he could offer his assistance. A crowd had already gathered around the fallen figure. By the look of the pale, emaciated form, it was clear to him that she was near death even before she had been trampled under the horses' hooves.
Knowing that the girl had only moments to live, he gently took her in his arms and brought her to his carriage.
"Are you taking her to hospital?" the driver asked.
"No. I'm afraid she wouldn't make it in time. But I'll not let her die in this filthy street."
Despite the blood and the dirt on her clothes, Lord Whittlesey put her down on the seat cushions.
"You'll be more comfortable here," he said.
The injured woman opened her eyes, stared up into the earl's handsome face and smiled.
"It's you!" she uttered, her face taking on an unnatural glow as she spoke.
She wanted to thank her Fairy Godfather for taking her to the Crystal Palace to see all the incredible exhibits and for making her final day on earth so memorable, but she lacked the strength to speak. It did not matter anyway because Edgar had been nowhere near Hyde Park that day.
The coughing spell that followed ended the young woman's life. As the kind-hearted earl said a silent prayer over the body, he failed to recognize the face of the child he had held on his shoulders the day Victoria and Albert were married.
Meanwhile, at that same moment, miles away at Whittlesey Manor, his wife gave birth to a baby girl. She was a tiny and delicate little thing, but she would grow up to be strong and healthy. The proud parents would name her Glynnis, and she would live a life of privilege and happiness. Thankfully, she would never remember the pain and deprivation of her previous existence.
Different sources have varying figures as to the number of exhibitors inside the Crystal Palace. Suffice it to say, it was huge!
When Salem turned himself into a crystal figurine, he was a major pain in the glass!
