It was the worse for Germany that etiquette and native savagery put
clemency aside in this case. As the London _Times_ declared, “The late
Miss Cavell’s death came like a trumpet call to the British nation. It
showed once again the real character of the enemy this country is
fighting. To the soldiers in Flanders it gave a fresh battle-cry and to
civilians at home it served to re-emphasize the need of greater effort
and great sacrifice. Before leaping for the trenches for a charge the
soldiers shouted: ‘For Miss Cavell.’”
The King and Queen of England wrote to the aged mother of Miss Cavell
expressing their sympathy with her and their horror of the deed that
took her daughter from her. There was a great memorial service in St.
Paul’s, the church itself and the churchyard around it being crowded by
every class. The nation was thrilled. The French also made the cause
their own. From Allies and neutrals the world over came messages of
sympathy and indignation. Nowhere, perhaps, was the emotion deeper than
in the United States. The American people were aroused in many ways.
Their national dignity was offended, because their representatives
had been slighted when attempting to save the Englishwoman. But this
resentment counted for little as compared with the genuine wrath at an
act of barbarous inhumanity to a woman.
Her name has been honored in every possible way—in sculpture, in
painting, in verse, in prose, in the sermons of the clergy, in the
oratory of statesmen, and after the armistice England received home her
body with such ceremonies as are reserved for those who have served
the country greatly. An imposing ceremony in the ancient Westminster
Abbey was attended by royalty and nobility, and the throng within and
without the Abbey represented every class of English life. The funeral
procession, in which marched hundreds of nurses, was witnessed by vast
throngs along the route, and was in itself a memorable spectacle. The
body of the martyr-heroine was taken to her native town for burial,
where a monument portrait of herself, in the town square, will
perpetuate to the eye a memory that will never perish from the English
heart.
[Illustration: Bombed metal bridge in the river]