A Noble Woman

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2. The Heel Of The Oppressor



When Germany had disclosed her infamous designs against the neutrality of Belgium, followed by her declaration of war against France, succeeded in a few hours by the entry of Great Britain into the fray, Miss Cavell's intuition of trouble became an absolute and appalling fact, with the positive certainty that war's ghastly harvest would mean work for nurses in Brussels.

Forthwith the Berkendael Medical Institute became a Red Cross Hospital, of which Miss Cavell was directrice, with a number of English and Belgian nurses under her charge. Others of her training staff and some of the school probationers were in a board school, which had been rapidly converted into another hospital. Some of the nurses of the Training Institute were of German nationality, and these sorrowfully made a hasty departure for the Dutch frontier, carrying only hand luggage, which was all that they were allowed to take. Miss Cavell was sorry to have to send them away, but they would have been in a most invidious position if they had remained in an enemy capital towards which the German army was ruthlessly hacking its way.

Although there was every indication of the extreme danger of Belgium, none could foresee the inexpressible agony that awaited her. How utterly Miss Cavell herself failed to realize the impending doom of the heroic little nation was shown in her letter of August 12, 1914, which she addressed to the Editor of The Times;

'Sir,

'I notice that there is a big movement on for the establishment of Red Cross Hospitals in England. In the natural course of things these will get almost exclusively naval men, whereas the army wounded will have to be dealt with on the Continent, and, as far as can be seen at present, mainly at Brussels.

'Our institution, comprising a large staff of English nurses, is prepared to deal with several hundreds, and the number is being increased day by day. May I beg, on behalf of my institution, for subscriptions from the British public, which may be forwarded with mention of the special purpose, to H.B.M.'s Consul at Brussels?

'Thanking you in anticipation, I am yours obediently,

'E. CAVELL,
'Directrice of the Berkendael Medical
Institute, Brussels. 'Ambulance 53,
'Rue de la Culture, 149, Bruxelles,
'August 12, 1914.'

Probably Miss Cavell learned later that the big movement in England to which she referred not only provided for our wounded soldiers from France and Belgium, but also distant Gallipoli, when that region became embroiled in the almost world-wide War.

Events moved with startling rapidity. It was on August 4 that the German troops commenced to swarm across the Belgian frontier. Liège was attacked with a fury and violence that fortresses hitherto considered practically impregnable could not withstand. Only eight days after the dispatch of her letter to The Times the heroic English nurse witnessed the entry of 20,000 Germans into Brussels.

'News came,' she wrote to the Nursing Mirror, 'that the Belgians, worn out and weary, were unable to hold back the oncoming host.... In the evening (August 20) came word that the enemy were at the gates. At midnight bugles were blowing, summoning the civic guard to lay down their arms and leave the city.... As we went to bed our only consolation was that in God's good time right and justice must prevail.'

Although Nurse Cavell was an Englishwoman, and her sympathies were claimed for the people within whose gates she had laboured for eight years, her great heart could feel compassion for the physical sufferings of the invaders, for the article continued: 'Many more troops came through. From our road we could see the long procession, and when the halt was called at midday some were too weary to eat, and slept on the pavement in the street. We were divided between pity for these poor fellows, far from their country and their people, suffering the weariness and fatigue of an arduous campaign, and hate of a cruel and vindictive foe bringing ruin and desolation to a prosperous and peaceful land.'

From that date Nurse Cavell was cut off from the outside world. Enveloped in the fog of war, nothing was heard of her for eight months, although she had arranged to act as special correspondent to the Nursing Mirror. Not until the month of April was another and last communication received. It was dated March 29, 1915, but was not delivered in London until seventeen days later, when it came to hand in a dilapidated condition and without any outward sign that it had undergone inspection by the Censor. The article cannot be quoted at full length, but a few paragraphs of it vividly depict the conditions of life under the iron heel of a relentless conqueror: 'From the day of the occupation till now we have been cut off from the world outside. Newspapers were first censored, then suppressed, and are now printed under German auspices; all coming from abroad were for a time forbidden, and now none are allowed from England....

'The once busy and bustling streets are very quiet and silent; so are the people who were so gay and communicative in the summer. No one speaks to his neighbour in the tram, for he may be a spy. Besides, what news is there to tell, and who has the heart to gossip?

'I am but a looker-on after all, for it is not my country whose soil is desecrated and whose sacred places are laid waste. I can only feel the deep and tender pity of the friend within the gates, and observe with sympathy and admiration the high courage and self-control of a people enduring a long and terrible agony.'

Edith Cavell had anticipated that there would be work for her in Brussels. She found it in abundance, first in nursing wounded Belgians, succeeded by an influx of suffering Germans, for the new authorities allowed her to continue her work; and in due course numbers of English and French soldiers came under her ministering care. And be it noted that to be wounded was a sure passport to the great heart of the English nurse. Even the injured invaders were tended with impartial care, in accordance with the great tenet of the Red Cross nursing creed, that suffering humanity shall know no distinctions, whether friend or foe, their necessities calling for the same single-minded devotion.

Miss Bertha Bennet Burleigh relates that she spent a pleasant half-hour with Miss Cavell, whom she met by chance shortly after the German occupation. In conversation the lady journalist learned that the nurses in the various nursing institutions had been requested to give an undertaking that they would also act as guards of the wounded. Miss Cavell said, 'We are prepared to do all we can to help them to recover from their wounds, but to be their jailers, never!' A German general smote the table with his clenched fist when the nurse gave her emphatic reply, but he could not cow her indomitable will. 'He looked,' Sister Edith afterwards told one of her colleagues, 'as if he would like to shoot me dead.' From that day onwards the German authorities commenced to deal harshly with the British Red Cross nurses who were in their power.

There is evidence available to prove that many Germans had occasion to bless the good offices of Nurse Cavell; and from all who passed through her hands she won the most profound esteem, which in itself was a cause of offence to the German authorities, who knew that they themselves were just as cordially detested.

But Edith Cavell's greatest offence lay in the fact that she was an Englishwoman, heroic daughter of the race that no specious promise or bribe could tempt from the path of honour; that could not view its treaty signature as a 'scrap of paper,' whose 'contemptible little army' had played a dramatic part in hurling back the Germans when Paris was literally in their mailed grasp; and that had succeeded in locking the once weak line of the Allies, which now forbade approach to the Channel ports of France from which a royal bully had proposed to attack the shores of England.

Baron von Bissing had been appointed Governor-General of Belgium, and forthwith he had commenced to terrorize the inhabitants. Brussels was plastered with proclamations calculated to make life scarcely worth living. One of them in particular forbade any person to assist subjects of countries at war with Germany to leave Belgium.

It is not quite certain whether Baron von Bissing ever came in personal contact with Miss Cavell, but it is positive that she became suspect to some of his emissaries, who promptly set about weaving a web for her undoing. It did not take long for clever German spies to ascertain that the English nurse had supplied British, French, and Belgian refugees with food, clothing, and money, and had connived, if not actually assisted, in their escape across the frontier into Holland.

No purpose would be served by attempting to deny that there was in existence a Band of Mercy whose object it was to smuggle fugitives out of Belgium. The members of this secret organization included Prince Reginald and Princess Marie de Croy of Belignies, the Comtesse de Belleville, a French abbé, Mademoiselle Thulier, M. Philippe Bancq, a Belgian architect, and others. It may be stated that the Princess is partly of English extraction, and her arrest caused the death of her English grandmother as a result of shock and subsequent illness. The Comtesse de Belleville belongs to the French nobility through her father, while her mother, the Vicomtesse d'Hendecourt, is Belgian. She spent much of her time in Belgium, devoting herself largely to charitable work, and when war broke out she came to the aid of her distressed compatriots.

Nurse Cavell undoubtedly participated in these simple acts of humanity which the Germans construed into 'crimes.' She permitted her hospital to be used in the chain of rest-houses by means of which fugitives escaped detection and capture, as they were passed from point to point towards their golden enfranchisement across the Dutch frontier. Admittedly Miss Cavell did wrong in setting the German military law at defiance, but it was the policy of German 'frightfulness' that was her justification. The enemy army violated their own treaty obligations, and had plundered, burnt, slaughtered, and ravished a helpless people in a manner that had not been conceivable in this twentieth century. Edith Cavell's contact with wounded soldiers had afforded her first-hand information concerning the brutal atrocities of which the invaders were guilty, and doubtless gave rise to a passionate desire to enable any wounded British compatriot, Belgian or French friend, to escape from the common peril.

For nearly a whole year Nurse Cavell continued her work, one supreme and unbroken test of the heroic spirit with which she was imbued. It was wonderful that her God-given befriending of refugees should have escaped detection so long; but at length the German Administration in Belgium verified some of the escapes of men from their iron thrall, and Edith Cavell was wrenched from her hospital by soldiers and put in prison.