of the end of the interview he asked Mr. Gibson to take back the note
which he had presented to him. This apparently simple request was
typical of the subtleties of Teutonic diplomacy, which cynically
repudiates its own 'scraps of paper,' and consequently cannot be
expected to hold those of others in very high esteem. Astute as Baron
von der Lancken may have imagined himself to be, his idea is patent to
an ordinarily unsophisticated mind, which not unnaturally, albeit
ungenerously, infers that at some time in the future the Baron may
desire to deny that he had received the written appeal of the American
Minister, which would be borne out by its absence from the official
archives. He is welcome to any satisfaction that the preparation for
mendacity may afford an atrophic conscience and a mental attitude that
is foreign to honourable diplomacy.
For an hour longer the visitors argued and pleaded, only to be informed
very positively that 'even the Emperor himself could not intervene'; but
even then Mr. Gibson and the Marquis de Villalobar continued to make
fresh appeals for delay. Finally the Spanish Minister drew Baron von der
Lancken aside in order to express some forcible opinions that he
hesitated to say in the presence of the Baron's subordinates and M. de
Leval, a Belgian subject; and in the meantime Mr. Gibson and M. de Leval
argued desperately with the younger officers--but all in vain.
Edith Cavell was doomed to death by that same tyranny that had
consummated the horrors of Louvain, that had heaped up atrocity upon
atrocity to appal all Christendom. As the bells of the city chimed the
midnight hour the victims' friends returned in despair to the American
Legation.
VII
THE BLOOD OF THE MARTYR
At eleven o'clock that same night, while Mr. Gibson and the Marquis de
Villalobar were expostulating with Baron von der Lancken, the Rev. H. S.
T. Gahan, the British Chaplain in Brussels, entered the cell in which
Nurse Cavell had spent the last ten weeks of her life.
Even in that supreme hour when she was being hurried to the grave by her
implacable foes, she knew no fear. She was calm and resigned. Upon her
gentle lips was no execration of her enemies, but only sentiments that
make us infinitely proud of her, that shall be repeated by generations
yet unborn, that shall endure in our national affection and reverence as
long as British tongues have speech and words have meaning.
In his report to the American Legation Mr. Gahan said that Nurse
Cavell's first words were concerned with a matter concerning herself
personally, 'but the solemn asseveration which accompanied them was made
expressly in the light of God and eternity.' In expressing the wish for
all her friends to know that she willingly gave her life to her country,
she said, 'I have no fear nor shrinking; I have seen death so often that
it is not strange or fearful to me.' She further said, 'I thank God for
this ten weeks' quiet before the end. Life has always been hurried and
full of difficulty. This time of rest has been a great mercy. They have
all been very kind to me here. But this I would say, standing as I do in
view of God and eternity, I realize that patriotism is not enough. I
must have no hatred or bitterness towards any one.'
When the chaplain administered the Holy Communion, she received the
gospel message of consolation with all her heart; and when he repeated
the words of the hymn 'Abide with me,' Miss Cavell softly joined in the
last verse:
Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies;
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee;
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.
Afterwards the chaplain and Miss Cavell quietly conversed until the
jailer intimated that the interview must end. She then gave him final
parting messages for relatives and friends. 'She spoke of her soul's
need at the moment, and she received the assurance of God's word as only
the Christian can do'; and when he bade her 'good-bye' she smiled and
said, 'We shall meet again.'
Early in the morning Miss Cavell was led out to execution. As there is
no official account of her last moments, we at first had to rely chiefly
upon the report of the Amsterdam _Telegraaf_, a thoroughly reliable and
influential journal; but later, additional details were available from
various accredited sources. The _Telegraaf_ records that the soldiers of
the shooting party were greatly impressed by the courage and fortitude
of the nurse, and much distressed at their enforced participation in a
dastardly crime. Each individual soldier purposely aimed high so that he
might not have the murder on his conscience. The whole firing party thus
being impelled by the same humane motive, the volley left the victim
standing unharmed.
Only in that dread moment did her physical strength refuse to respond
further to her sublimely heroic spirit. She swooned and fell; and the
officer in charge of the soldiers stepped forward and shot her through
the head, close to the ear, as she lay mercifully unconscious of her
surroundings.
Whether it be true or not that the soldiers acted as described, one
would like to believe it, if only because it would afford some
satisfaction to think that the German rank and file can be stirred by
humane impulses to which their superiors are strangers. The rough
soldiers would appear as veritable angels compared to Baron von Bissing
and von der Lancken, his companion in crime. These ruffians consigned
themselves by their conduct to everlasting loathing and contempt; to
satisfy their rabid hate of England they proved themselves worthy peers
of Judge Jeffreys, Robespierre, Nana Sahib, and other unnatural
monsters.
Six weeks after the grim tragedy three of Miss Cavell's friends returned
to England from Belgium, and several of their statements correct
previous errors. One of these ladies saw Miss Cavell in prison a few
days before the end, but by that time the secrecy and isolation from all
advice had accomplished all that her jailers desired. The visitor says
that during the interview Miss Cavell was quite herself, wonderfully
calm, and preferred to talk on ordinary topics. Originally it was stated
that the execution took place at 2 a.m. in the prison of St. Gilles, but
Miss Wilkins, who took over the management of the hospital after Miss
Cavell's arrest, was at the prison at five o'clock on the morning of the
12th. She was just in time to see her friend being conducted to the
motor-car in which she was to be driven to the Tir National, two miles
out of Brussels, which was the selected place of execution. She walked
firmly, and, from the expression of her face, she was serene and
undisturbed.
The German military chaplain was with her at the end, and afterwards
gave her poor body Christian burial. He told Mr. Gahan that 'she was
brave and bright to the last. She professed her Christian faith, and
that she was glad to die for her country.' 'She died like a heroine.'
But the German chaplain did not inform Mr. Gahan that, accustomed as he
was to painful death scenes, the brutal end of the gentle victim so
horrified him that he himself sank to the ground in a dead faint--a
weakness that stands to the credit of his heart and calling.
The Rev. H. S. T. Gahan was sent to Brussels by the Colonial and
Continental Church Society only a few months before the outbreak of the
War. He was imprisoned for a few days in November, 1914, but was
released when the Americans represented that they required a clergyman.
All other British men were deported, but many British women and children
remain in Brussels. Many of those who have contrived to escape from the
stricken capital testify to the help and kindness and sympathy of the
British chaplain.
It has been asserted that by her own request Miss Cavell was permitted
to face her executioners with unbandaged eyes and unbound hands. But
more than that, according to later information, the Germans, with one of
their acute refinements of cruelty, allowed her to witness the execution
of M. Bancq, and it was this sight, more than fear of her own end, that
caused her to collapse.
The only announcement of Miss Cavell's death received by her friends and
pupils was through a poster displayed on the walls of Brussels baldly
announcing that the execution had taken place; and letters which were
addressed to them the day before she died were not delivered until a
month afterwards.
The body of the martyr was buried by her enemies near the prison of St.
Gilles. Mr. Whitlock, on behalf of the First President of the Brussels
Court of Appeals and President of the Belgian School of Certificated
Nurses, asked Baron von der Lancken for the body of Miss Cavell, its
directress. It was undertaken, in the removal of the body and its burial
in the Brussels district, to conform to all the regulations of the
German authorities. Mr. Whitlock remarked that he felt sure that His
Excellency would make no objection to the request, and that the
institution to which Miss Cavell had generously devoted a part of her
life would be permitted to perform a pious duty. Baron von der Lancken
did not send a written reply, but called upon Mr. Gibson in person. He
stated that under the regulations governing such cases it was
impossible to exhume the body without written permission from the
Minister of War in Berlin. Thus the Germans took the opportunity of
crowning their foul deed with the final dishonour of a refusal of even
such a last pitiful request.
Really it is immaterial where Edith Cavell's body may be laid to rest,
although sentiment may demand its ultimate recovery. Her memory will
lack nothing. It is enshrined in glowing effulgence in the hearts of
Britons and our Allies for all time.
Although our story is the record of Edith Cavell, we can spare a thought
for her heroic companions. M. Philippe Bancq declared his willingness to
die for his country, and the Germans took him at his word. Princess
Marie de Croy was sentenced to ten years' imprisonment; but the Comtesse
de Belleville and Mademoiselle Thulier were condemned to death. Upon
strong representations made by the King of Spain and the Pope, however,
the German Emperor hastened to pardon these two ladies, because he was
aware of the universal horror caused by the deliberate political murder
of Miss Cavell. Von Bissing, too, evidently was warned by the Kaiser to
moderate his bloodthirstiness, as evidenced by a promise of their lives
to all British and French soldiers still hidden in Belgium if they
surrendered without delay. Verily, it was speedily proved that Nurse
Cavell had died that others might live--and it is not always the case
that even the greatest sacrifices bear so speedy a fruit.
VIII
IN MEMORIAM
It is almost impossible to express how deeply the heart of the nation
was stirred by the crowning deed of infamy signalized in the tyrannous
execution of Edith Cavell; and all classes, from the highest to the
lowest, were desirous of testifying their admiration of one whose
devotion to duty and consecrated death will ever be an inspiration to
our race.
The following message was dispatched from the King and Queen to Mrs.
Cavell, the stricken mother of the dead heroine:
'BUCKINGHAM PALACE,
'_October 23, 1915_.
'Dear Madam,--By command of the King and Queen I write to assure
you that the hearts of their Majesties go out to you in your
bitter sorrow, and to express their horror at the appalling deed
which has robbed you of your child. Men and women throughout the
civilized world, while sympathizing with you, are moved with
admiration and awe at her faith and courage in death.
'Believe me, dear Madam, yours very truly,
'STAMFORDHAM.'
Queen Alexandra's letter, through the medium of the Rector of
Sandringham, ran as follows:
'I am commanded by Her Majesty Queen Alexandra to write and say how
deeply Her Majesty feels for you in the sad and tragic death of
your daughter. Her Majesty views the unheard-of act with the utmost
abhorrence; no words of mine are in any way adequate to express the
deep feelings of Her Majesty as she spoke to me of Miss Cavell's
death. Her Majesty's first thought was of you, and I was to tell
you how deeply, very deeply, Her Majesty sympathizes with you.
"Her poor, poor mother. I go on thinking of her," were Her
Majesty's words. The women of England are bearing the greatest
burden of this terrible War, but by all the name of Miss Cavell
will be held in the highest honour and respect. We shall always
remember that she never once failed England in her hour of need.
"May God bless and comfort you!" is the prayer of Her Majesty.'
Naturally the tragic death of their heroic sister went like a
trumpet-blast through the ranks of the nursing profession, and the
following letter of sympathy addressed to Mrs. Cavell from the President
and Council of the Royal British Nurses' Association was signed by
Princess Christian herself:
'We, the President and Council of the Royal British Nurses'
Association, desire to express the warm and heartfelt sympathy of
the whole Association with you in the bereavement which has fallen
on you in such tragic circumstances. Your daughter's heroic death
is one which will always remain a lasting memorial to devotion,
courage, and self-sacrifice, and her name will ever be remembered
among those heroes who have laid down their lives for their
country.'
Of the condolences from abroad a few examples must suffice. M. Cambon,
the French Ambassador in London, received from the Committee of Foreign
Affairs of the Chamber of Deputies the following telegram for
transmission to the House of Commons:
'The Chairman and Members of the Committee of Foreign Affairs of
the Chamber of Deputies, deeply moved by the tragic fate of Miss
Cavell, desire to offer to the members of the House of Commons the
expression of the respect and admiration which they feel for the
noble heroine of British patriotism, and beg the House of Commons
to accept, on behalf of themselves and of their colleagues, their
message of grief and indignation.'
Acting under the instructions of his Government, the Belgian Minister
telegraphed to Mrs. Cavell:
'The Belgian Government shares with emotion and respect in your
grief. Our entire population to-day associates in a universal
sentiment of admiration and gratitude the name of Miss Cavell with
that of the many Belgian women who have already fallen martyrs to
German barbarism, and from whose innocent blood will arise new
heroism for the defence of civilization.'
A GREAT MEMORIAL SERVICE.
London in particular, and the nation in general, laid its wreath of
prayer around the bier of Edith Cavell in a great memorial service held
in St. Paul's Cathedral on October 29, 1915. It was a fitting and
touching token of affection and admiration of one of our greatest
national heroines, solemnly performed in one of the most sacred of our
national shrines.
The morning found London enshrouded in blue-grey mist; but at eleven
o'clock, the time of service, the weather-worn old sanctuary commenced
to gleam in pale sunshine, as if it were a halo from the glorious dead
to lighten the gloom of the sorrowing multitude.
St. Paul's Cathedral has witnessed many moving ceremonies, sad and
joyful, pathetic and glorious, but never in its history had it witnessed
a spectacle quite like the present occasion, which had its origin in a
brutal act of tyranny that had given rise to a cry of horror to agitate
the civilized world.
Under Wren's great dome were gathered representatives of every
department of the national life. Mr. E. W. Wallington attended on behalf
of the King and Queen. It had been expected that Queen Alexandra would
be similarly represented, but Her Majesty preferred to attend in person
in strictest privacy, typical of that gracious tact that has made her
universally beloved, and one more proof of her special friendship for
nurses.
The family of the martyred nurse was represented by two married sisters,
Miss Scott Cavell, matron of the Hull and East Riding Convalescent Home,
and other relatives. The aged mother was not present; she was too
weighed down by weight of years and sorrow to face a public ordeal whose
pathos would have been too poignant to bear. In imagination could be
conjured up a white-haired stately dame in her quiet Norwich home,
engaging in a simultaneous service all her own in the silence of her
saddened heart.
Among the more distinguished members of the congregation were the Prime
Minister and not a few members of the Cabinet; members of both Houses of
Parliament; Sir A. Keogh (representing Lord Kitchener); Lord Charles
Beresford, a popular representative of the Navy; the Diplomatic Corps;
the High Commissioners of Canada and Australia; the Deputy Lord Mayor
and Sheriffs in state; and notable representatives of the arts,
sciences, commerce, &c. For the rest there was a vast concourse, all
bent upon the one single purpose of taking advantage of the grave and
beautiful Anglican ritual to place on record, without bitterness, hate,
or venom, their deep sense of the foul crime that had sent Edith Cavell
to her death.
But the outstanding feature of the multitude was the nurses. Six hundred
of them were in reserved seats, but there must have been at least two
thousand in the building. First and foremost were various members of
Miss Cavell's training school in Belgium; and, of course, the 'London,'
in their dark rifle green, had a prominent place in the great company of
nurses of all grades, ambassadors and delegates of their noble
profession. Many of them were simply in caps and aprons with a cloak
around their shoulders, suggesting that they had come straight from
their duties in the city's palaces of pain to engage in a service that
was a fresh consecration of their merciful calling.
Except for the gorgeous habiliments of the civic officials, Queen
Alexandra's corps of nurses provided the only note of colour in the
touch of red at the capes; for even the band of the First Life Guards
was dressed in sober khaki instead of their usually resplendent
uniforms.
Wounded soldiers, often in groups, were pathetically noticeable among
the congregation, poor fellows who could testify above all others to the
mercy and healing brought to the sick and the maimed by 'a noble type of
good heroic womanhood.' Of the whole immense gathering the majority were
women. A large proportion of them were in black, the significant badge
of grief for the loss of their own particular dear ones, the brave
fellows who have laid down their lives on the battle-fields, or on the
ocean for whose mistress-ship they died.
As the Cathedral clock boomed out the hour the drums rolled in prelude
to Chopin's 'Funeral March,' which struck the first note of emotion in
the massed assembly and brought it to its feet. Slowly the choir, headed
by the symbol of our and Edith Cavell's faith, moved to their places,
preceding the clergy, chief of whom were the Bishop of London and Dr.
Bury, the Bishop of Central Europe.
The service proper commenced with the hymn 'Abide with me,' in which ten
thousand voices joined, and never was it sung with more feeling and
reverence. The last verse in particular must have called to every mind
that inexpressibly sad scene in St. Gilles' Prison. The words brought
solace and strength to Nurse Cavell, and some of her quiet faith, her
touching fortitude, seemed to be communicated to the congregation.
Following the special Psalms and the Lesson from the Burial Service,
band and organ together played the Dead March in _Saul_; and as the
notes pulsed and throbbed, pealed out with mighty rush of sound, or
decreased to little more than the volume of human breath, the terror of
death became secondary to the triumph of the spirit.
With singularly moving effect the choir commenced to sing the Liturgy of
St. Chrysostom, the beautiful prayer that contrasted so strongly with
the crashing harmonies that had scarcely ceased to reverberate far up in
the empty dome.
Prayers from the Burial Service were followed by a special petition
that, 'laying aside our divisions, we may be united in heart and mind to
bear the burdens which the War has laid upon us....' The congregation
sang 'Through the night of doubt and sorrow,' with its happy marching
swing; the Bishop of London pronounced the Benediction; then came the
resonant notes of the National Anthem; and the organ played a
recessional as the choir and clergy retired. A moment later two thousand
nurses fell to their knees, and 'if ever a soul went well charioted to
its Maker it was the soul of Edith Cavell.'
The service was over, and those who had been privileged to participate
in a soul-searching ceremony streamed out into the hum of the mightiest
camp of men the world has ever known. It was like coming from the Holy
of Holies, with an everlasting memory to kindle the love and enthusiasm
of all who worship at the shrine of duty.
And the wonder of it all, it was a great national tribute to one who a
fortnight earlier was unknown outside her own family and immediate
circle of friends. She had 'lived unknown till persecution dragged her
into fame and chased her up to heaven,' as a cry of horror and
execration, mingled with agonized pity for her harrowing fate, flashed
her name from peak to peak and continent to continent.
* * * * *
The columns of the British press were flooded with letters denouncing
the crime and acknowledging the death of the martyr as an irresistibly
compelling call to duty; and innumerable suggestions were made for
perpetuating in tangible form the memory of a daughter of England who
had taught us how to die.
One notable scheme for a memorial was speedily announced in connexion
with the London Hospital, which happened to be establishing a new
nursing home, which was to bear the name of Queen Alexandra. With true
nobility of heart Queen Alexandra promptly requested that her name
should give way to that of Edith Cavell, and public subscriptions
quickly assured an enlargement of the original scheme.
The _Daily Telegraph_ initiated a subscription fund to provide a statue
in stone and bronze by Sir George Frampton, and the eminent sculptor
intimated that his work would be a labour of love and a voluntary gift.
The Westminster City Council offered a site opposite the National
Portrait Gallery; and thus the statue will face Trafalgar Square,
already rich in national memories. Edith Cavell's death first became
known in England on Trafalgar Day. The base of the Nelson Monument was
hidden under the customary floral tributes to our greatest naval hero,
and amid them was placed a wreath of laurels, a symbol of the martyrdom
of the heroic nurse, of which the public would learn through the press
the following day. It will be peculiarly fitting for the statue to Edith
Cavell, whose last words were that she was glad to die for her country,
to be within sight of the column where stands the one-armed Nelson,
whose last immortal signal, 'England expects every man to do his duty,'
has ever been an inspiration not only to the Fleet, but to every true
lover of his country.
Other ideas for the perpetuation of the name of Nurse Cavell included
the raising of a Cavell Regiment, that should be a living monument of
brave men, who would be heartened and vivified by the noble life and
death of their devoted countrywoman. But the true spirit of Britons
negatived the necessity for a particular regiment. The next day after
the announcement of the death of Miss Cavell every eligible man in her
native village joined the Forces, and the recruits, all told, must have
numbered many thousands.
Probably it would afford general satisfaction if another proposal bore
fruit, namely, the institution of a new Order, equivalent to the
Victoria Cross, for heroism by women of our race and Empire; and the
heroism of our women in the present War emphasizes the justice and
wisdom of some such acknowledgement.
Up and down the country there were soon memorial schemes, generally in
connexion with local hospitals or the British Red Cross Society. One of
the first of this kind was the endowment of a bed in King Edward VII's
Hospital, Cardiff, by Sir W. J. Thomas. There speedily followed the
proposed institution of other beds to be named after Miss Cavell: the
City of Dublin Hospital asked for L500 to endow a bed; the 'Ediths' of
Yorkshire commenced to collect to perpetuate her memory in the north;
and a fund of L1,000 was started for a free bed for nurses at the Mount
Vernon Hospital for Consumption.