BRAND WHITLOCK

The first letter of inquiry not answered.

Reasons given for Miss Cavell's arrest.

One day in August it was learned at the Legation that an English nurse, named Edith Cavell, had been arrested by the Germans. I wrote a letter to the Baron von der Lancken to ask if it was true that Miss Cavell had been arrested, and saying that if it were I should request that Maître de Leval, the legal counselor of the Legation, be permitted to see her and to prepare for her defense. There was no reply to this letter, and on September tenth I wrote a second letter, repeating the questions and the requests made in the first. On the twelfth of September I had a reply from the Baron stating that Miss Cavell had been arrested on the fifth of August, that she was confined in the prison of St. Gilles, that she had admitted having hidden English and French soldiers in her home, as well as Belgians, of an age to bear arms, all anxious to get to the front, that she had admitted also having furnished these soldiers with money to get to France, and had provided guides to enable them to cross the Dutch frontier; that the defense of Miss Cavell was in the hands of Maître Thomas Braun, and that inasmuch as the German Government, on principle, would not permit accused persons to have any interviews whatever, he could not obtain permission for Maître de Leval to visit Miss Cavell as long as she was in solitary confinement.

The German mentality.

The principle that power makes right.

The accused without rights.

For one of our Anglo-Saxon race and legal traditions to understand conditions in Belgium during the German occupation, it is necessary to banish resolutely from the mind every conception of right we have inherited from our ancestors—conceptions long since crystallized into inimitable principles of law and confirmed in our charters of liberty. In the German mentality these conceptions do not exist; they think in other sequences; they act according to another principle, if it is a principle, the conviction that there is only one right, one privilege, and that it belongs exclusively to Germany, the right, namely, to do whatever they have the physical force to do. These so-called courts, of whose arbitrary and irresponsible and brutal nature I have tried to convey some notion, were mere inquisitorial bodies, guided by no principle save that of interest in their own bloody nature; they did as they pleased, and would have scorned a Jeffreys as too lenient, a Lynch as too formal, a Spanish auto da fé as too technical, and a tribunal of the French Revolution as soft and sentimental. Before them the accused had literally no rights, not even to present a defense, and if he was permitted to speak in his own behalf, it was only as a generous and liberal favor.

It was before such a court that Edith Cavell was to be arraigned. I had asked Maître de Leval to provide for her defense, and on his advice, inasmuch as Maître Braun was already of counsel in the case, chosen by certain friends of Miss Cavell, I invited him into consultation.

Personality of Edith Cavell.

Miss Cavell's character and ability.

Edith Cavell was a frail and delicate little woman about forty years of age. She had come to Brussels some years before the war to exercise her calling as a trained nurse. She soon became known to the leading physicians of the capital and nursed in the homes of the leading families. But she was ambitious, and devoted to her profession, and ere long had entered a nursing-home in the Rue de la Clinique, where she organized for Doctor Depage a training-school for nurses. She was a woman of refinement and education; she knew French as she knew her own language; she was deeply religious, with a conscience almost puritan, and was very stern with herself in what she conceived to be her duty. In her training-school she showed great executive ability, was firm in matters of discipline, and brought it to a high state of efficiency. And every one who knew her in Brussels spoke of her with that unvarying term of respect which her noble character inspired.

Mr. Whitlock engages a defender.

Some time before the trial, Maître Thomas Braun announced to the Legation that for personal reasons he would be obliged to withdraw from the case, and asked that some one else appear for Miss Cavell. We engaged Maître Sadi Kirschen.

The court martial in the Senate chamber.

It was the morning of Thursday, October seventh, that the case came before the court martial in the Senate chamber, where the military trials always took place, and Miss Cavell was arraigned with the Princess de Croy, the Countess de Belleville, and thirty-two others. The accused were seated in a circle facing the court, in such a way that they could neither see nor communicate with their own counsel, who were compelled to sit behind them. Nor could they see the witnesses, who were also placed behind them.

The charge brought against the accused was that of having conspired to violate the German Military Penal Code, punishing with death those who conduct troops to the enemy.

The trial secret.

Miss Cavell's attitude.

Admits aiding English soldiers.

We have no record of that trial; we do not know all that occurred there behind the closed doors of that Senate chamber, where for fourscore years laws based on another and more enlightened principle of justice had been discussed. Miss Cavell did not know, or knew only in the vaguest manner, the offense with which she was charged. She did not deny having received at her hospital English soldiers whom she nursed and to whom she gave money; she did not deny that she knew they were going to try to cross the border into Holland. She even took a patriotic pride in the fact. She was very calm. She was interrogated in German, a language she did not understand, but the questions and responses were translated into French. Her mind was very alert, and she was entirely self-possessed, and frequently rectified any inexact details and statements that were put to her. When, in her interrogatory, she was asked if she had not aided English soldiers left behind after the early battles of the preceding Autumn about Mons and Charleroi, she said yes; they were English and she was English, and she would help her own. The answer seemed to impress the court. They asked her if she had not helped twenty.

"Yes," she said "more than twenty; two hundred."

"English?"

"No, not all English; French and Belgians, too."

But the French and Belgians were not of her own nationality, said the judge—and that made a serious difference. She was subjected to a nagging interrogatory. One of the judges said that she had been foolish to aid the English because, he said, the English are ungrateful.

"No," replied Miss Cavell, "the English are not ungrateful."

"How do you know they are not?" asked the inquisitor.

Miss Cavell makes a fatal admission.

"Because," she answered, "some of them have written to me from England to thank me."

It was a fatal admission on the part of the tortured little woman; under the German military law her having helped soldiers to reach Holland, a neutral country, would have been a less serious offense, but to aid them to reach an enemy country, and especially England, was the last offense in the eyes of the German military court.

Rumor that death sentence is asked.

The trial was concluded on Saturday, and on Sunday one of the nurses in Miss Cavell's school came to tell me that there was a rumor about town that the prosecuting officer had asked the court to pronounce a sentence of death in the cases of the Princess de Croy, the Countess de Belleville, and of Miss Cavell, and of several others. I remember to have said to Maître de Leval, when he came up to my room to report the astounding news:

"That's only the usual exaggeration of the prosecutor; they all ask for the extreme penalty, everywhere, when they sum up their cases."

Leval's opinion of German courts.

"Yes," said Maître de Leval, "and in German courts they always get it."

Maître de Leval sent a note to Maître Kirschen, asking him to come on Monday, at eight-thirty o'clock, to the Legation or to send a word regarding Miss Cavell. Maître Kirschen did not send Maître de Leval the word he had requested, and on that Sunday, de Leval saw another lawyer who had been on the case and could tell him what had taken place at the trial. The lawyer thought that the court martial would not condemn Miss Cavell to death. At any rate, no judgment had been pronounced, and the judges themselves did not appear to be in agreement.

Leval asks to see Miss Cavell.

On Monday, the eleventh of October, at eight-thirty in the morning, Maître de Leval went to the Politische Abteilung in the Rue Lambermont, and found Conrad. He spoke to him of the case of Miss Cavell and asked that, now that the trial had taken place, he and the Reverend Mr. Gahan, the rector of the English church, be allowed to see Miss Cavell. Conrad said he would make inquiries and inform de Leval by telephone, and by one of the messengers of the Legation who that morning happened to deliver some papers to the Politische Abteilung, Conrad sent word that neither the Reverend Mr. Gahan nor Maître de Leval could see Miss Cavell at that time, but that Maître de Leval could see her as soon as the judgment had been pronounced.

Waiting for judgment to be pronounced.

Promise to inform the Legation.

At eleven-thirty o'clock on the Monday morning, Maître de Leval himself telephoned to Conrad, who repeated this statement. The judgment had not yet been rendered, he said, and Maître de Leval asked him to let him know as soon as the judgment had been pronounced, so that he might go to see Miss Cavell. Conrad promised this, but added that even then the Reverend Mr. Gahan could not see her, because there were German Protestant pastors at the prison, and that if Miss Cavell needed spiritual advice or consolation she could call on them. Conrad concluded this conversation by saying that the judgment would be rendered on the morrow, that is, on Tuesday, or the day after, and that even when it had been pronounced it would have to be signed by the Military Governor, and that the Legation would be kept informed.

At twelve-ten on the Monday, not having received any news from Maître Kirschen, Maître de Leval went to his house, but did not find him there, and left his card.

Leval makes repeated inquiries.

At twelve-twenty o'clock, Maître de Leval went to the house of the lawyer to whom reference has already been made, and left word for him to go to his home.

At four o'clock that afternoon the lawyer arrived at the Legation and said that he had been to see the Germans at eleven o'clock, and that there he had been told no judgment would be pronounced before the following day. Before leaving the Legation to go home, Maître de Leval told to Gibson all that had happened, and asked him to telephone again to Conrad before going home himself. Then at intervals all day long the inquiry had been repeated, and the same response was made.

The chancellerie was closed for the night.

Monday evening at six-twenty o'clock, Belgian time, Topping, one of the clerks of the Legation, with Gibson standing by, again called Conrad on the telephone, again was told that the judgment had not been pronounced, and that the Political Department would not fail to inform the Legation the moment the judgment was confirmed. And the chancellerie was closed for the night.

A nurse informs Leval of the death sentence.

At nine o'clock that Monday evening, Maître de Leval appeared suddenly at the door of my chamber; his face was deadly pallid; he said that he had just heard from the nurse who kept him informed, that the judgment had been confirmed and that the sentence of death had been pronounced on Miss Cavell at half-past four o'clock that afternoon, and that she was to be shot at two o'clock the next morning. It seemed preposterous, especially the immediate execution of sentence; there had always been time at least to prepare and present a plea for mercy. To condemn a woman in the evening and then to hurry her out to be shot before another dawn! Impossible! It could not be!

Judgment read in the afternoon.

Plea for mercy had been prepared.

But no; Maître de Leval was certain. That evening he had gone home and was writing at his table when about eight o'clock two nurses were introduced. One was Miss Wilkinson, little and nervous, all in tears; the other, taller and more calm. Miss Wilkinson said that she had just learned that the judgment of the court condemned Miss Cavell to death, that the judgment had been read to her in her cell at four-thirty that afternoon, and that the Germans were going to shoot her that night at two o'clock. Maître de Leval told her that it was difficult to believe such news, since twice he had been told that the judgment had not been rendered and that it would not be rendered before the following day, but on her reiteration that she had this news from a source that was absolutely certain, de Leval left at once with her and her friends and came to the Legation. And there he stood, pale and shaken. Even then I could not believe; it was too preposterous; surely a stay of execution would be granted. Already in the afternoon, in some premonition, Maître de Leval had prepared a plea for mercy, to be submitted to the Governor-General, and a letter of transmittal to present to the Baron von der Lancken. I asked Maître de Leval to bring me these documents and I signed them, and then, at the last minute, on the letter addressed to von der Lancken, I wrote these words:

Mr. Whitlock's personal appeal.

"My dear Baron:

"I am too sick to present my request to you in person, but I appeal to your generosity of heart to support it, and save this unfortunate woman from death. Have pity on her."

Search for the Spanish ambassador.

I told Maître de Leval to send Joseph at once to hunt up Gibson to present my plea and, if possible, to find the Marquis de Villalobar and to ask him to support it with the Baron von der Lancken. Gibson was dining somewhere; we did not know where Villalobar was. The Politische Abteilung, in the Ministry of Industry, where Baron von der Lancken lived, was only half a dozen blocks away. The Governor-General was in his château at Trois Fontaines, ten miles away, playing bridge that evening. Maître de Leval went; and I waited.

The nurses from Miss Cavell's school were waiting in a lower room; other nurses came for news; they, too, had heard, but could not believe. Then the Reverend Mr. H. Stirling T. Gahan, the British chaplain at Brussels and pastor of the English church, came. He had a note from some one at the St. Gilles prison, a note written in German, saying simply:

English rector summoned.

"Come at once; some one is about to die."

A delay of execution expected.

He went away to the prison; his frail, delicate little wife remained at the Legation, and there, with my wife and Miss Larner, sat with those women all that long evening, trying to comfort them, to reassure them. Outside a cold rain was falling. Up in my chamber I waited; a stay of execution would be granted, of course; they always were; there was not, in our time, anywhere, a court, even a court martial, that would condemn a woman to death at half-past four in the afternoon and hurry her out and shoot her before dawn—not even a German court martial.

Miss Cavell calm and courageous.

When Mr. Gahan arrived at the prison that night Miss Cavell was lying on the narrow cot in her cell; she arose, drew on a dressing gown, folded it about her thin form, and received him calmly. She had never expected such an end to the trial, but she was brave and was not afraid to die. The judgment had been read to her that afternoon, there in her cell. She had written letters to her mother in England and to certain of her friends, and entrusted them to the German authorities.

She did not complain of her trial; she had avowed all, she said; and it is one of the saddest, bitterest ironies of the whole tragedy that she seems not to have known that all she had avowed was not sufficient, even under German law, to justify the judgment passed upon her. The German chaplain had been kind, and she was willing for him to be with her at the last, if Mr. Gahan could not be. Life had not been all happy for her, she said, and she was glad to die for her country. Life had been hurried, and she was grateful for these weeks of rest in prison.

"Patriotism is not enough," she said, "I must have no hatred and no bitterness toward any one."

Notes made in Bible and prayer-book.

She received the sacrament, she had no hatred for any one, and she had no regrets. In the touching report that Mr. Gahan made there is a statement, one of the last that Edith Cavell ever made, which, in its exquisite pathos, illuminates the whole of that life of stern duty, of human service and martyrdom. She said that she was grateful for the six weeks of rest she had just before the end. During those weeks she had read and reflected; her companions and her solace were her Bible, her prayer-book and the "Imitation of Christ." The notes she made in these books reveal her thoughts in that time, and will touch the uttermost depths of any nature nourished in that beautiful faith which is at once so tender and so austere. The prayer-book with those laconic entries on its fly-leaf, in which she set down the sad and eloquent chronology of her fate, the copy of the "Imitation" which she had read and marked during those weeks in prison—weeks, which, as she so pathetically said, had given her rest and quiet and time to think in a life that had been "so hurried"—and the passages noted in her firm hand have a deep and appealing pathos.

Just before the end, too, as I have said, she wrote a number of letters. She forgot no one. Among the letters that she left one was addressed to the nurses of her school; and there was a message for a girl who was trying to break herself of the morphine habit—Miss Cavell had been trying to help her, and she sent her word to be brave, and that if God would permit she would continue to try to help her.

The petitioners fail.

Midnight came, and Gibson, with a dark face, and de Leval, paler than ever. There was nothing to be done.

Errand of Marquis Villalobar, Gibson and de Leval.

De Leval had gone to Gibson, and together they went in search of the Marquis, whom they found at Baron Lambert's, where he had been dining; he and Baron Lambert and M. Francqui were over their coffee. The three, the Marquis, Gibson and de Leval, then went to the Rue Lambermont. The little Ministry was closed and dark; no one was there. They rang, and rang again, and finally the concierge appeared—no one was there, he said. They insisted. The concierge at last found a German functionary who came down, stood staring stupidly; every one was gone; son Excellence was at the theater. At what theater? He did not know. They urged him to go and find out. He disappeared inside, went up and down stairs two or three times, finally came out and said that he was at Le Bois Sacré. They explained that the presence of the Baron was urgent and asked the man to go for him; they turned over the motor to him and he mounted on the box beside Eugene. They reached the little variety theater there in the Rue d'Arenberg. The German functionary went in and found the Baron, who said he could not come before the piece was over.

The sad wait for der Lancken.

All this while Villalobar, Gibson and de Leval were in the salon at the Ministry, the room of which I have spoken so often as the yellow salon, because of the satin upholstery of its Louis XVI. furniture of white lacquer—that bright, almost laughing little salon, all done in the gayest, lightest tones, where so many little dramas were played. All three of them were deeply moved and very anxious—the eternal contrast, as de Leval said, between things and sentiments. Lancken entered at last, very much surprised to find them; he was accompanied by Count Harrach and by the young Baron von Falkenhausen.

"What is it, gentlemen?" he said. "Has something serious happened?"

They told him why they were there, and Lancken, raising his hands, said:

"Impossible!"

Der Lancken believes the rumor false.

He had vaguely heard that afternoon of a condemnation for spying, but he did not know that it had anything to do with the case of Miss Cavell, and in any event it was impossible that they would put a woman to death that night.

"Who has given you this information? Because, to come and disturb me at such an hour you must have actual information," he said.

De Leval replied: "Without doubt I consider it so, but I must refuse to tell you from whom I received the information. Besides, what difference does it make? If the information is true, our presence at this hour is justified; if it is not true, I am ready to take the consequences of my mistake."

The Baron grew irritated.

"What," he said, "is it on the hint of mere rumor that you come and disturb me at such an hour, me and these gentlemen? No, no, gentlemen, this news can not be true. Orders are never executed with such precipitation, especially when a woman is concerned. Come and see me to-morrow. Besides, how do you think that at this hour I can obtain any information? The Governor-General must certainly be sleeping."

Gibson, or one of them, suggested to him that a very simple way of finding out would be to telephone to the prison.

"Quite right," said he. "I had not thought of that."

He went out, was gone a few minutes and came back embarrassed, so they said, even a little bit ashamed, for he said:

The sad news confirmed.

"You are right, gentlemen; I have heard by telephone that Miss Cavell has been condemned and that she will be shot to-night."

Then de Leval drew out the letter that I had written to the Baron and gave it to him, and he read it in an undertone—with a little sardonic smile, de Leval said—and when he had finished he handed it back to de Leval and said:

The plea for mercy.

"But it is necessary to have a plea for mercy at the same time."

"Here it is," said de Leval, and gave him the document. Then they all sat down.

Von der Lancken's attitude.

Miss Cavell not a spy.

I could see the scene as it was described to me by Villalobar, by Gibson, by de Leval, in that pretty little Louis XVI. salon that I knew so well—Lancken giving way to an outburst of feeling against "that spy," as he called Miss Cavell, and Gibson and de Leval by turns pleading with him, the Marquis sitting by. It was not a question of spying as they pointed out; it was a question of the life of a woman, a life that had been devoted to charity, to helping others. She had nursed wounded soldiers, she had even nursed German wounded at the beginning of the war, and now she was accused of but one thing: having helped English soldiers make their way toward Holland. She may have been imprudent, she may have acted against the laws of the occupying power, but she was not a spy, she was not even accused of being a spy, she had not been convicted of spying, and she did not merit the death of a spy. They sat there pleading, Gibson and de Leval, bringing forth all the arguments that would occur to men of sense and sensibility. Gibson called Lancken's attention to their failure to inform the Legation of the sentence, of their failure to keep the word that Conrad had given. He argued that the offense charged against Miss Cavell had long since been accomplished, that as she had been for some weeks in prison a slight delay in carrying out the sentence could not endanger the German cause; he even pointed out the effect such a deed as the summary execution of the death sentence against a woman would have upon public opinion, not only in Belgium, but in America, and elsewhere; he even spoke of the possibility of reprisals.

The military authority supreme.

But it was all in vain. Baron von der Lancken explained to them that the Military Governor, that is, General von Saubersweig, was the supreme authority in matters of this sort, that an appeal from his decision lay only to the Emperor, that the Governor-General himself had no authority to intervene in such cases, and that under the provisions of German martial law it lay within the discretion of the Military Governor whether he would accept or refuse an appeal for clemency. And then Villalobar suddenly cried out:

"Oh, come now! It's a woman; you can't shoot a woman like that!"

The Baron paused, was evidently moved.

"Gentlemen," he said, "it is past eleven o'clock; what can be done?"

Lancken goes to von Saubersweig.

It was only von Saubersweig who could act, he had said, and they urged the Baron to go to see von Saubersweig. Finally he consented. While he was gone Villalobar, Gibson and de Leval repeated to Harrach and von Falkenhausen all the arguments that might move them. Von Falkenhausen was young, he had been to Cambridge in England, and he was touched, though of course he was powerless. And de Leval says that when he gave signs of showing pity, Harrach cast a glance at him, so that he said nothing more, and then Harrach said:

"The life of one German soldier seems to us much more important than that of all these old English nurses."

Lancken's return.

At last Lancken returned and, standing there, announced:

"I am exceedingly sorry, but the Governor tells me that only after due reflection was the execution decided upon, and that he will not change his decision. Under his prerogative he even refuses to receive the plea for mercy. Therefore, no one, not even the Emperor, can do anything for you."

The plea for mercy handed back.

With this he handed my letter and the requête en grace back to Gibson. There was a moment of silence in the yellow salon. Then Villalobar sprang up and seizing Lancken by the shoulder said to him in an energetic tone:

"Baron, I wish to speak to you."

"It is useless," began Lancken.

The Marquis Villalobar pleads.

But the old Spanish pride had been mounting in the Marquis, and he literally dragged the tall von der Lancken into a little room near by, and then voices were heard in sharp discussion, and even through the partition the voice of Villalobar:

"It is idiotic, this thing you are going to do; you will have another Louvain."

A few moments later they came back, Villalobar in silent rage, Lancken very red. And, as de Leval said, without another word, dumb, in consternation, filled with an immense despair, they came away.

The messengers withdraw.

I heard the report, and they withdrew. A little while and I heard the street door open. The women who had waited all that night went out into the rain.

The rain had ceased and the air was soft and warm the next morning; the sunlight shone through an autumn haze. But over the city the horror of the dreadful deed hung like a pall.

Other prisoners condemned.

Twenty-six others were condemned with Miss Cavell, four of whom were sentenced to death: Philippe Baucq, an architect of Brussels; Louise Thuiliez, a school-teacher at Lille; Louis Severin, a pharmacist of Brussels; and the Countess Jeanne de Belleville of Montignies-sur-Roc.

Severe sentences.

Harman Capian, a civil engineer of Wasmes; Mrs. Ada Bodart of Brussels; Albert Libiez, a lawyer of Wasmes; and Georges Derveau, a pharmacist of Pâturages, were sentenced each to fifteen years' penal servitude at hard labor.

The Princess Maria de Croy was sentenced to ten years' penal servitude at hard labor.

Seventeen others were sentenced to hard labor or to terms of imprisonment of from two to five years. The eight remaining were acquitted.

The people horrified at Miss Cavell's execution.

All day long sad and solemn groups stood under the trees in the boulevards amid the falling leaves discussing the crime in horrified tones. The horror of it pervaded the house. I found my wife weeping at evening; no need to ask what was the matter; the wife of the chaplain had been there, with some detail of Miss Cavell's last hours: how she had arisen wearily from her cot at the coming of the clergyman, drawing her dressing-gown about her thin throat.

The body not given to friends.

I sent a note to Baron von der Lancken asking that the Governor-General permit the body of Miss Cavell to be buried by the American Legation and the friends of the dead girl. In reply he came himself to see me in the afternoon. He was very solemn, and said that he wished to express his regret in the circumstances, but that he had done all he could. The body, he said, had already been interred, with respect and with religious rites, in a quiet place, and under the law it could not be exhumed without an order from the Imperial Government. The Governor-General himself had gone to Berlin.

Whitlock and Villalobar.

And then came Villalobar, and I thanked him for what he had done. He told me much, and described the scene the night before in that anteroom with Lancken. The Marquis was much concerned about the Countess Jeanne de Belleville and Madame Thuiliez, both French, and hence protégées of his, condemned to die within eight days; but I told him not to be concerned; that the effect of Miss Cavell's martyrdom did not end with her death; it would procure other liberations, this among them; the thirst for blood had been slaked and there would be no more executions in that group; it was the way of the law of blood vengeance. We talked a long time about the tragedy and about the even larger tragedy of the war.

"We are getting old," he said. "Life is going; and after the war, if we live in that new world, we shall be of the old—the new generation will push us aside."

Miss Cavell's death wins mercy for others.

Gibson and de Leval prepared reports of the whole matter, and I sent them by the next courier to our Embassy at London. But somehow that very day the news got into Holland and shocked the world. Richards, of the C. R. B., just back from The Hague, said that they had already heard of it there and were filled with horror. And even the Germans, who seemed always to do a deed and to consider its effect afterward, knew that they had another Louvain, another Lusitania, for which to answer before the bar of civilization. The lives of the three others remaining, of the five condemned to death, were ultimately spared, as I had told Villalobar they would be. The King of Spain and the President of the United States made representations at Berlin in behalf of the Countess de Belleville and Madame Thuiliez, and their sentences were commuted to imprisonment, as was that of Louis Severin, the Brussels druggist. The storm of universal loathing and reprobation for the deed was too much even for the Germans.

In an earlier chapter we have read of the beginning of the attempt to cross the Dardanelles and to capture the Peninsula of Gallipoli. After great losses and terrible suffering had been endured in these attempts, it was decided in December, 1915, by the British war authorities that further sacrifices were not justified. Preparations were accordingly made to abandon the enterprise. How these plans were carried out is told in the chapter following.