Chapter 8
CHAPTER VIII. IN MEMORIUM. 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 Cavill, 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. Cavill, 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 Cavill'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 Cavill will be held in the highest honor 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. Cavill 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.
Monsieur 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 Cavill, 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. Cavill, the Belgian Government chairs with emotion and respect in your grief.
Our entire population today associates in a universal sentiment of admiration and gratitude the name of Miss Cavill 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 defense of civilization. A Great Memorial Service
London in particular, and the nation in general, laid its wreath of prayer around the beer of Edith Cavill 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 Cavill, 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. An 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. Keough 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 Cherubs in State, and notable representatives of the Arts, Sciences, Commerce, etc. 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 Cavill 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 Cavill'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 lifeguards were 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 battlefields, or on the ocean of 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 Cavill's faith, moved to their places preceding the clergy, chief of whom were the Bishop of London and Dr. Burry, 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
at St. Gilles' prison. The words brought solace and strength to Nurse Cavill 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, peeled 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 Cavill. The service was over, and those who had been privileged to participate in a soul-searching ceremony streamed out into the home 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 exocration, 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 connection 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 the name should give way to
that of Edith Cavill, 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 labor 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 Cavill'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 Cavill, 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. Other ideas for the perpetuation of the name of Nurse Cavill included the raising of a Cavill regiment that should be a living monument of brave men who would be heartened and vivified
by the noble life and death of their devoted countrywoman. But the true spirit of Britain's negatived the necessity for a particular regiment. The next day, after the announcement of the death of Miss Cavill, every eligible man in her native village joined the forces, and the recruits, all told, must have numbered many thousands. Probably it would afford general satisfaction if another proposal bore fruit, namely, the institution of a new order equivalent
to the Victoria Cross, for heroism by women of our race and empire. And the heroism of our women in the present war emphasizes the justice and wisdom of some such acknowledgement. Up and down the country there were soon memorial schemes, generally in connection with local hospitals or the British Red Cross Society. One of the first of this kind was the endowment of a bed in King Edward VII's Hospital, Cardiff, by Sir W. J. Thomas. There speedily followed
the proposed institution of other beds to be named after Miss Cavill. The City of Dublin Hospital asked for £500 to endow a bed. The Ediths of Yorkshire commenced to collect to perpetuate her memory in the north. And a fund of £1,000 was started for a free bed at the Mount Vernon Hospital for consumption. Miss Scott Cavill made it known that her sister had hoped some time in the future to establish a home for nurses only, those either convalescent
or tired, or who required a temporary home on holiday from abroad, or a temporary place of rest only. A subscription list was at once opened to give effect to a plan that had been so near Nurse Cavill's heart. A similar idea, but on a larger scale, was favoured by Sir John Howard, well known in Brighton as the giver of the John Howard Convalescent Home for Ladies in Reduced Circumstances. He announced that in memory of Miss Cavill he would build
twenty-four cottage homes for incapacitated nurses, and endow each with the sum of ten shillings a week. This munificent memorial will entail the expenditure of about £30,000.
