Edith Cavell - a British war heroine.
Edith Louisa Cavell was born on the 4th of December 1865 at Swardeston, near Norwich, the daughter of a local vicar. Edith trained as a nurse and would become the matron of The Berkendael Medical Institute in Belgium in 1907. She was also active in nurse training there.
The first World War broke out in 1914 and at the time Edith was on holiday, visiting her mother in Norfolk. Her family begged her to stay in England but she returned to her job in Brussels.
The city would fall to the Germans on the 20th of August 1914. Edith was allowed to remain at her post when the hospital was taken over by The Red Cross.
Edith began rescuing and treating injured British and French soldiers and getting them across the border into neutral Holland from where they could return to Britain. She also assisted Belgian civilians. These activities constituted a crime under German Military Law. Paragraph 58 of the German Military Code said: "Will be sentenced to death for treason any person who, with the intention of helping the hostile Power, or of causing harm to the German or allied troops, is guilty of one of the crimes of paragraph 90 of the German Penal Code."
On the 3rd of August 1915, Edith was arrested and charged with harboring enemy soldiers.
She was held for ten weeks in the prison of Saint Gilles before her trial and admitted that she had helped some 175 people escape occupied Belgium. Her two-day military trial commenced on the 7th of October 1915. In all 35 people stood trial, all accused of the same offences. In addition to the harboring charge the Germans also believed that Edith was passing information to the British authorities which was espionage (see later). Edith refused to lie at her trial and admitted the main charges against her.
She was thus condemned to death by firing squad, along with Phillipe Baucq who had been helping her.
Vigorous efforts were made to save her by the American and Spanish ambassadors in Belgium but the only person with the power to commute her death sentence, the German military governor of Brussels, General Von Sauberzweig, declined to commute her sentence.
On the 11th of October Edith was visited by The Revd. Stirling Gahan who gave her communion. She told him "Patriotism is not enough. I must have no hatred or bitterness towards anyone." These words would later be inscribed on her monument in Trafalgar Square in London. (see photo)
The executions took place at the Tir Nationale shooting range at Schaerbeek early in the morning of the 12th of October. Edith and Phillipe were taken there by car. They were each tied to a stake and faced two firing squads composed of eight soldiers each standing just six paces away. The death sentences were read out and each prisoner was comforted by their respective minister. It is reported that one of the shots hit Edith in the forehead.
Edith’s body was buried next to Saint Gilles prison. After the war it was exhumed and returned to the UK. She was re-buried in her native Norfolk.
Her death was used as a propaganda tool by the British who made the most of what they claimed was German brutality to a female nurse. The Germans however defended their decision to execute her. The German military governor of Belgium who signed the warrant for Edith's execution, maintained that she had knowledge of the espionage operation.
"This Cavell woman... had guilty knowledge of much of their work. Such a system of spying assails our very safety and we proceeded to stamp it out."
Dame Stella Rimington, the former director-general of MI5 has recently examined Belgian military archives and concluded that Edith’s team were involved in espionage as well as helping people escape from Belgium. How much of what was going on was personally known to Edith is unclear.
In 1916 a mountain located in Jasper National Park in Alberta in Canada was named after her. “Mount Edith Cavell” and there is a monument to her in Norwich.
Here is a first hand account taken from The Truth by Wilhelm Behrens, who was in charge of prisons in Brussels at the time of the execution. Le Seur was the chaplain appointed by the Germans to minister to the prisoners.
This is a remarkable and moving account of the last moments of Edith Cavell, and reflects well on both Miss Cavell and Le Seur. It contains details of the execution which you may find upsetting.
"'How much time will they give me ?" Miss Cavell inquired.
"'Unfortunately, only until tomorrow morning.'
"For one moment her cheeks were flushed and a moist film passed over her eyes — but only for a few seconds. I offered her my services as a pastor, and stated that I was at her disposal at any hour of the day and night, but she declined it politely but definitely.
"'Can I not show you some kindness?' I said. 'Please do not see in me now the German, but only the servant of our Lord and Saviour, who places himself entirely at your disposal.' She then inquired whether it would be possible to inform her old mother in England, who was about eighty years of age, so that she might not learn this first of all through the newspapers. I gave her my promise that I would do everything that was in my power for this, and I kept my promise.
"But it was a burden upon my heart that I might serve her soul in her bitter need. Therefore, I did something which I really had not a formal right to do.
I understood deeply that from me as a German in the uniform which she doubtless hated, she could not receive any spiritual help. In addition, according to the principles of her Church, it was scarcely possible for her to receive the Sacrament from a pastor who did not belong to the Anglican Church, but I knew the Anglican chaplain in Brussels, the Rev. Gahan, very well, as a very pious Irishman, who, moreover, had been permitted to carry on his religious duties without any trouble during the whole period of the occupation.
I therefore asked Miss Cavell whether she wished that the Rev. Gahan should come to her to enable her to partake of the Holy Sacrament. Thereupon her eyes lighted up, and with great joy she accepted the proposal.
"Finally I told her that it was my duty to stand by her side at the last.
"Should I make an effort that Mr. Gahan should do this in my place? I told her that it was, indeed, very doubtful to me whether it would be permitted. She declined this most definitely.
It would be much too heavy for Mr. Gahan, who was not accustomed to such things. 'Ah, Miss Cavell, I also am not accustomed to it,' I said, 'but shall I be rendering you a service if, instead of meeting you first outside on the Tir National, I come and fetch you here?' She accepted this offer gratefully. I said a few more words of Christian comfort to her from a deeply-moved heart, and then we parted from one another with a warm handshake.
"I hastened to Mr. Gahan, but he was not at home.
What was I to do? He had to be informed, but the matter was, of course, a strict secret. I left, therefore, a little note for him, in English: he was to come to me as soon as possible with his articles for the Holy Communion. It was a question or a dying member of his parish who was longing to see him. With a heavy heart I went home.
"It was about eight o'clock in the evening when the English clergyman at last came to me. When I explained confidentially to him what was involved, he almost collapsed.
With the permit which I had obtained for him from the officer in command of the prison, he then went out to St. Gilles.
"He told me, later, with the express permission to repeat it, that Edith Cavell, immediately before partaking of the Holy Communion, had stated that now, as she stood on the verge of eternity, she saw that patriotism was not the highest thing, and that one should hate no one, but love all.
"At the first grey of dawn, with a heavy heart, I got into the motor car and drove out to the prison.
I sent in my name to Miss Cavell. If I remember rightly, the soldier told me she had just been kneeling at her table.
"In the cell a flickering gas-flame was burning. Two large bouquets of withered flowers, which had been standing there for ten weeks, awakened the impression of a vault. The condemned lady had packed all her little property with the greatest care in a handbag.
"I accompanied her through the long corridors of the great prison. The Belgian prison officials stood there and greeted her silently with the highest respect. She returned their greetings silently.
Then we boarded the motor-car which awaited us in the yard. A few moments later the Catholic priest, P. Leyendecker, and the other condemned person, M. Baucq, an architect, about 35 years of age, came out at the same door. Baucq went up to each one of the German sentries who were standing about, gave them his hand, and said in Flemish: 'Let us bear no grudge.' Then the two motorcars drove out in the early morning hour. I sat beside Edith Cavell in order to accompany her — to her own burial.
"When we arrived at the Tir National, a company at full war strength (two hundred and fifty men) stood there, in accordance with the regulations, under the command of a staff-officer. A Military Court Councillor, Dr. Stoeber, with his secretary, Capt. Behrens, in command of St. Gilles prison, an officer from the Commander's office, and a medical man, Dr. Benn, were on the spot. We clergymen led the condemned persons to the front. The company presented their rifles, and the sentence was about to be read aloud in German and in French, when M. Baucq called out with a clear voice in French: ‘Comrades, in the presence of death we are all comrades.'
He was not allowed to say anything more. The sentence was read out, and then the clergymen were permitted to have a last word with the condemned persons. I thought I had to make this as brief as possible. I took Miss Cavell's hand and only said (of course in English) the words: 'The Grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the Communion of the Holy Ghost be with you for ever. Amen.’ She pressed my hand in return, and answered in those words: 'Ask Mr. Gahan to tell my loved ones later on that my soul, as I believe, is safe, and that I am glad to die for my country.'
"Then I led her a few steps to the pole, to which she was loosely bound. A bandage was put over her eyes, which, as the soldier who put it on told me, were full of tears.
"Then a few seconds passed, which appeared to me like eternity, because the Catholic clergyman spoke somewhat longer with M. Baucq, until he also stood at his pole.
"Immediately the sharp commands were given, two salvoes crashed at the same time — each of eight men at a distance of six paces — and the two condemned persons sank to the ground without a sound. My eyes were fixed exclusively on Miss Cavell, and what they now saw was terrible. With a face streaming with blood — one shot had gone through her forehead — Miss Cavell had sunk down forwards, but three times she raised herself up without a sound, with her hands stretched upwards.
I ran forward with the medical man, Dr. Benn, to her. He was doubtless right when he stated that these were only reflex movements.
"Indeed, exactly the same physiological process was described in the gruesome murder scene in Oscar Wilde’s novel, 'The Picture of Dorian Grey'. Self-control could not go so far, surely, as to prevent a human being in this position from giving a sound if he were still conscious.
The bullet-holes, as large as a fist in the back, proved, in addition, that without any doubt she was killed immediately. I only mention this fact because untrue rumours have been connected with it. A few minutes later the coffins were lowered into the graves, and I prayed over Edith Cavell’s grave, and invoked the Lord’s blessing over her poor corpse. Then I went home, almost sick in my soul.
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