TRIAL IN SECRET.
The conspirators had thus succeeded in drawing an impenetrable veil
across their wicked purposes.
Practically the only accounts of the trial are those printed in the
German newspapers a fortnight after the execution. These tell us that
the court-martial was held in the Court of the Brussels Senate-House.
The judges are not named. The principal person accused (says the
_Hamburger Fremdenblatt_, which in the true German way assesses titles
higher than all personal characteristics) was Prince Reginald de Croy,
of Belignies, but he had not been found. The Princess Maria, his wife,
stood, however, in the dock with Edith Cavell beside her.
Miss Cavell was in the nurse’s uniform in which she had been arrested.
The white cap covering the back of the head and disclosing the neat
dark waved hair beginning to go grey at the sides, was tied beneath the
chin with a starched bow. The stiff collar surmounted the white apron.
On the nurse’s arm was the red cross of her merciful calling. Her clear
eyes looked out on a group of enemies. Overfed officers, with thick
necks and coarse eyes, faced her from the judge’s bench. Soldiers with
fixed bayonets stood between the prisoners.
Although she knew her danger, Nurse Cavell did not flinch before her
accusers. There was nothing defiant in her look. It was too serene
for anger. But the judges must have noted the weakness of the woman
they were condemning. She was fragile almost to delicacy. Two months
of prison had made her complexion ashy white. She looked about the
court with curiosity, and even in this supreme hour had time for a
compassionate smile for those who were sharing her peril.
The German papers give us an outline of the prosecution “case.” They
allege that Miss Cavell and Prince Reginald de Croy were the two
principals in a widespread espionage organisation. Aided by the French
Countess of Belleville, they had assisted young Belgian, French, and
British soldiers to escape from Belgium. The refugees were taken by
different routes to Brussels, hidden in Miss Cavell’s hospital or in a
convent, and conducted by night in tramcars out of Brussels, and then
by guides to loosely guarded points along the Dutch frontier.
When this statement was ended, Miss Cavell was asked to plead. In a
low, gentle voice, contrasting with the harsh accents of her accusers,
she replied that she believed she had served her country, and if that
was wrong she was willing to take the blame. The lips of some of her
fellow-prisoners quivered as they heard these brave words.
Fearlessly, and in quiet, firm tones, Miss Cavell went on to disclose
facts which provided chapter and verse for her “crime.” The questions
were put in German, then translated by an interpreter into French,
which Miss Cavell of course knew well. “She spoke without trembling
and showed a clear mind,” an eye-witness afterwards told Mr. de Leval.
“Often she added some greater precision to her previous depositions.”
The Military Prosecutor asked her why she had helped these soldiers to
go to England. “If I had not done so they would have been shot,” she
answered. “I thought I was only doing my duty in saving their lives.”
“That may be very true as regards English soldiers,” responded the
prosecutor, “Why did you help young Belgians to cross the frontier when
they would have been perfectly safe in staying here?”
The answer to this question is not recorded. “In helping Belgians I
help my own country” must have been the thought that rose to her lips.
Other prisoners were asked what they had to say, and among them, M.
Philippe Bancq, a Belgian architect, made a memorable plea, fit to put
beside Nurse Cavell’s. “I helped young Belgians to escape to join the
army,” he said. “As a good Belgian patriot I am ready to lay down my
life for my country.” Bancq has since been shot.
The prosecution asked for the death sentence to be passed upon Miss
Cavell and eight other prisoners. But “the Judges did not seem to
agree.” Nurse Cavell’s heroism appeared to have made some impression on
her enemy’s hearts.
Sentence was postponed. It seemed as though mercy might prevail.