Part 3

Upon the urgent appeal of the neutral diplomatists Baron von der Lancken agreed to speak to the Military Governor on the telephone. He was absent half an hour, and upon his return stated that he had been to confer personally with the Military Governor, who declared that the sentence upon Miss Cavell was the result of 'mature deliberation,' and that the circumstances in her case rendered 'the infliction of the death penalty imperative.'

The Baron's attitude was that of absolute finality, and in signification 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.