This makes the fate of Miss Cavell our affair as much as that of the Lusitania. And yet we have the already familiar semi-official assurance from Washington that while our officials "unofficially deplore the act, officially they can do nothing." Concurrently we are told in the President's Thanksgiving proclamation that we should be thankful because we have "been able to assert our rights and the rights of mankind," and that this "has been a year of special blessing for us," for, so the proclamation adds, "we have prospered while other nations were at war."
I venture to say in all reverence that the God of nations will be better pleased on the coming Thanksgiving Day—which also should be one of penitence and humiliation—if we do a little more in fact and less in words to safeguard the rights of humanity. Our initial blunder was in turning away the Belgian Commissioners, when they first presented the wrongs of their crucified nation, with icy phrases as to a mysterious day of reckoning in the indefinite future. An act of justice now will be worth a thousand future "accountings" after the long agony of the world is over. "Now is the accepted time, this the day of salvation."
Let our nation begin with the case of Edith Cavell, and demand of Germany the dismissal of the officers who flouted, deceived, and mocked the representative of the United States. That concerns our honor as a nation.
The final scene of the tragedy is best stated in the simple but poignantly pathetic words of the Chaplain, who was permitted to see the victim a few hours before her death:
"On Monday evening, 11th October, I was admitted by special passport from the German authorities to the prison of St. Gilles, where Miss Edith Cavell had been confined for ten weeks. The final sentence had been given early that afternoon.
"To my astonishment and relief I found my friend perfectly calm and resigned. But this could not lessen the tenderness and intensity of feeling on either part during that last interview of almost an hour.
"Her first words to me were upon a matter concerning herself personally, but the solemn asseveration which accompanied them was made expressedly in the light of God and eternity. She then added that she wished all her friends to know that she willingly gave her life for her country, and 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 realise that patriotism is not enough. I must have no hatred or bitterness towards anyone.'
"We partook of the Holy Communion together, and she received the Gospel message of consolation with all her heart. At the close of the little service I began to repeat the words 'Abide with me,' and she joined softly in the end.
"We sat quietly talking until it was time for me to go. She gave me parting messages for relations and friends. She spoke of her soul's needs at the moment, and she received the assurance of God's Word as only the Christian can do.