The full story available now … at last!

First came the research. Then the fumbling attempts to write it up - the embarrassing first drafts and the constant editing. 

Then there were the rejection slips and the decision that, even if the mainstream didn't want to tell the story of a professional woman navigating her way through WW1, her tale had to be told - it represented the tales of so many other women who were also in danger of being omitted from the centenary commemorations. 

So today, 100 years after the most important centenary of her war, The Mystery of Isabella and the String of Beads: A Woman Doctor in WW1 is available on Amazon or can be ordered through all good bookshops.

A great read, highly recommended! https://t.co/ESyXgVK0xz

— Marina Maxwell (@OfArbeia) July 22, 2016

The second strand

I've been reading anything at all vaguely connected with Isabella's story, so I was browsing the biography section in the library last week. 'Fathers and Sons', Richard Madeley - It was the blurb that begged me to examine the book. It claimed to be the story of the effects on subsequent generations of a traumatic event that took place in 1907. Ok, Isabella was a woman, but what's the difference in this context? Straight onto my pile it went.

In some ways I only needed to read the Preface where I came across this:

‘........ Fathers and sons, four generations strung together like beads on a twisting double helix of shared DNA. Utterly unalike when regarded from some angles; almost clone-like in their similarities when viewed from others.  

Climbers roped together through space and time, mostly barely conscious of distance twitches on the line, but sometimes pulled up sharp by a sudden unmistakeable tug from the past.’

I was hooked....off to Google. Was this just one author's imaginative idea? No. There were articles in scientific journals as well as Wikipedia. 

For example here: The beads and string of DNA | HudsonAlpha Institute for Biotechnology

'Envision DNA as a very long string, wrapped around millions of beads made of proteins. To regulate genes, cells use thousands of different proteins. 

Imagine the beads are made of thousands of combinations of different colors and designs.'

Electron micrographs show how the idea was born:

I'm well and truly hooked. I wanted a second strand to Isabella's string of beads, and now I've got it.

Swastika

The V and A experts pointed out to me something I had deliberately blanked: one of the sets of beads is woven to create a swastika. 

But of course, at the time of WW1, a swastika didn't have the connotations it has had since the Nazi party adopted it. 

A quick glance at Wikipedia revealed:

'The symbol appeared in many popular, non-political Western designs from the 1880s to the 1920s, with occasional use continuing into the 1930s.'

'By the early 20th century, it was widely used worldwide and was regarded as a symbol of good luck and success.'

There's a picture of Mathilde Moisant wearing a swastika emblem as a 'Good Luck' charm, as was common amongst early aviators.

I guess that now I need to find out what all the other patterns and symbols along the string of beads mean.

The Saga of the Beads continues

I've scoured the internet for information about woven beads, visited local bead shops, looked at bead books, and got nowhere, so I was very keen to follow up my discoveries at the Antiques Roadshow.

The Victoria and Albert Museum hold a monthly 'Opinions Day', so last week I boarded the coach for London to see what they could tell me. Antiques Roadshow had told me the beads were a woman's belt, but I wanted to know where and when was it made and was the idea that it had been carried by a German Prisoner of War viable?

Travelling so far, I decided to make a day of it and arrived hours before the Opinions sessions began. I wandered around looking for anything from 1887-1920ish, the early years of Isabella's life. And in the jewellery display cases, I saw it - a necklace made of beads in exactly the same way as Isabella's were.

Same length, same width, same bead size. Ok, this one had a more coherent design and pattern, the beads were brighter, but I couldn't expect Isabella's beads to be of museum quality. The label said the museum piece had been made in 1920 in Vienna and gave a proper designer's name. Oh yes, and it was true a necklace, a complete loop with a tassle on the end, not simply a string of beads. If Isabella's beads were broken, that would explain why it had been so hard to work out what they were.

I was confident now that I needed to visit the jewellery expert rather than a fashion specialist. It felt a little odd  being nodded past No Entry signs in a museum, up the stairs to the back offices. Signing in, the beads were taken away and I had to wait, watching the museum academics and researchers moving about, doing mundane things like getting cups of coffee rather than being erudite.

It wasn't long until two people emerged carrying my beads and a book. They were the most unlikely looking jewellery pundits - middle-aged, slender, stereo-typical academics, even the woman looked as if she had never worn a piece of jewellery in her life. But they were lovely, and incredibly helpful.

"You've found ours," they began. And they showed me their book, and quite happily agreed to Isabella's beads being earlier than theirs, quite happy that they were of German origin, and saw no reason to doubt the PoW story. 

And they assured me they were not broken. They were used as a slender scarf, and could be draped in all manner of ways. But what came next was even more exciting. They were explaining about the Arts and Crafts movement, Art Deco, Charles Rennie Mackintosh in Glasgow, secessionism in Vienna and Germany......and the woman suddenly said, "This would have been a statement piece of jewellery. The debate as to whether jewellery had to be made of precious metals and stones or could be simply a beautiful art object made of simple materials was as live then as it is now, and the woman who chose to wear this was making a statement. She was not wearing riches but beauty." (Well that's my paraphrase. I'm sure she didn't say that diamonds and such like weren't beautiful. That's reflects my own opinion.)

I asked what sort of woman might have owned them, wondering if that would give me a clue to the soldier. Had he been an officer or in the ranks? They were not sure. The beads might have been purchased, or she might have woven them herself, since beading was a skill cultivated by some young ladies. And if she made them herself, she must have had some time on her hands. I guess she couldn't have been poverty stricken.

I was suddenly given a real character, a girl who liked what I like, who chose to be different. I like that. 

My mind drifted.... If I was going to give a soldier something to take to war, I would not choose a string of glass beads. Maybe a Bible or a poem or card...but not glass beads. Too tricky and potentially dangerous. So it must have been a spontaneous gift. Maybe romance blossomed the night before the soldier left, he demanded something to remember her by. Or did she press them onto him? However it took place, it was a token of love and affection.

And then he gave them to Isabella. Hmm. What would I think about that if I was the girl? He gave away my gift! The happiest version I can imagine is that he was overwhelmingly grateful to Isabella for making him well enough to go back to his beloved girl, and it was the only remotely feminine thing he could lay his hands on. The less happy version, for the girl, is that he fell in love with Isabella.....

But I like happy endings.

Antiques Roadshow

"Why the Antiques Roadshow?" you may ask. Well, the beads are difficult to categorise. Mostly glass, but some metal, they are not clearly anything. Beading may have been a favourite pastime among Victorian young ladies (although I'd have to check that), but these beads don't make anything....they're neither brooch nor earrings, nor set into a dress or gloves. There is no obvious way into their story.

I've hovered between different opinions. Might the soldier might have made them himself, maybe as part of post-operative therapy? Maybe they're a sampler? But then he'd need to have been exceedingly skilful, and well acquainted with traditional designs and the possibilities of pattern. Maybe he was a fine craftsman in civilian life?

Or were they treasure from home he carried in his pocket, a talisman of love from his sweetheart/wife/mother? If so, how did they survive the battle in which he was wounded and captured and ended up under Isabella's care?

I searched the internet and discovered interesting facts such as that Czechoslovakia had a thriving bead manufacturing industry, but I got no further in uncovering the mystery of Isabella's beads.

I emailed the Victoria and Albert museum, uncertain which department to try. Did they count as glass, or jewellery? Where was the authority who could enlighten me? No luck, nobody knew. A definitive blank.

So it's been at the back of my mind that the Antiques Roadshow, with its panel of experts covering every possible area, might be a way forward.

And it was a wonderful day. An hour's drive from Welsh mountains to English elegance and the immense queue at Cheltenham Town Hall. Innumerable anonymous recyclable bags hid the treasures; there was no possibility of peering at other people's precious possessions. But I've never been in such an enjoyable queue. It took nearly three hours to get to the front and find out which expert to queue for, but, thanks to my lovely friends Tash and Julie from Breaking Barriers, it didn't drag.

And what did the experts say about Isabella's beads? They liked them, thought them delightful and very fine and saw no reason to doubt the story. "But what are they," I asked. "They're a belt," Hilary Kay pronounced, "A lady's belt, and the soldier would have carried it in his pocket as a keepsake."

Tick, I'd thought of that one.

"Could he not have made it as he recuperated?"

"No, soldiers did do crafts after being wounded, but they would never have had the resources to make something like this."

So I had my answer, but then more questions were raised. Another expert kept raving about their Art Deco look, "Just right for all those flappers in the twenties," he stated. "But it was earlier than that," I contradicted him.......but doubts began to seep into my mind.

Maybe they were just a random piece of Isabella's twenties wardrobe? Maybe they never came from a soldier at all? But no, if that was the case why on earth would Isabella have placed them lovingly with her medical instruments? I'll stick with the soldier story.

But how about a few more ponderings? Who was the soldier? If the beads are fairly fine, maybe he was an officer from some wealthy family rather than someone from the ranks. And who was the woman whose memory he valued so highly. And what had Isabella done to render him so grateful that he parted with the beads?

But then again, maybe he didn't part with them during his illness and captivity, but bought them specially for Isabella and sent them over to her after the war, in which case they might be Art Deco after all?

But at least now I know the string of beads is a belt, I can go back to the V&A, and try their costume department this time. How old is this belt? Where was it made? Who would have worn it, on what occasions.......there's a date in my diary for June.

Question: Why does the answer to one question so often lead to another.

The beads

Isabella's beads aren't strung as a necklace, earrings or brooch. They're not woven as a bracelet, belt or bag. They are simply a long strip, nine beads wide. Heavy, some of glass, some of metal and gloriously coloured, each bead is tinier than the smallest seed beads in craft shops now. And they simply make a long strip. Nothing more complicated than that. Each end is folded over rather than attached to a jewellery finding.

And although they are strung on coarse, age-faded thread, they have evidently been made by a skilful craftsperson. Intricate, classic patterns trace their way along the thread, picked out in carefully chosen colours and separated by looser stretches. A tantalising delight.

African Queen

This blog is likely to be a bit of a puzzle to start with. I mean, what connection might the old film "African Queen" have with Isabella's beads? For me, enough to make me stop watching and come to write this post. The answer is, I never knew that in 1914 there was a German East Africa. And, I promise, that really may link in with Isabella's beads.

Isabella's beads

Isabella gave me the string of beads 40 years ago. I've always treasured them and thought that one day I'd do something with them. But 18 months ago I was chatting with some friends, and it became clear that the moment had arrived. The time was ripe and I had to get out and uncover the story of Isabella's beads.

I've trekked up and down to museums and libraries in London, visited even more diverse places in Edinburgh, downloaded material from the internet, read books and papers, watched films and documentaries, joined forums and followed up as many leads as I can in an effort to track down the story of the beads.

I'm not there yet, but the trail has been fascinating and thought provoking. Now, I've got to go back and see what I've found out, work out what the story is so far.....and carry on hunting.

But I don't want to carry on alone, as if I was preparing a university dissertation; I've set up this blog because I'd prefer to share the discoveries and ideas, and inviting other people to join in and comment. The wisdom of many will make the story fuller.

Question: What makes time ripe?