The Plague by Albert Camus

Lockdown is beginning to creep away leaving a certain reluctance to throw oneself too ardently into former activities, despite longing to do so. This week, we are trying to reinstate Mahjong on my terrace and hopes are high! An attempt to re-start our Thursday evening get-togethers at Oud Huis Amsterdam has been thwarted owing to the immoveable barrier of the closure of the hotel which had been briefly open.

 Oud Huis Amsterdam, Genthof 4.

Boris, recently. 

A lovely idea that I have thought of, to visit Britain and go to see my sister on our birthday in late July, has caused me quite unexpected anxiety about the big effort neded to travel by train from Brugge to Bury St Edmonds. A considerable journey of at least 6-7 hours in a wretched mask amid other travellers, in a country (the U.K.) which has not so far been very successful at managing Covid 19. Incidentally I read a lovely little thumbnail of Boris by Christine Burns, a trans campaigner and author. “Johnson is a Pound Shop Trump, slightly more acceptable and less utterly crass.” Which rather cleverly manages to be rude about both men and cheered me up considerably!

I am currently reading The Plague by Albert Camus, published in 1947, thus, I discover, joining tens of thousands of locked-down readers during this Corona period, all fascinated by what seems to have become the defining book of Covid19. Camus “uses a biological epidemic to illustrate the dilemmas of moral contagion.” [Tony Judt. 2001] It is the story of a dreadful plague of rats in the fictional town of Oran in French Algeria when rats emerge from the sewers in their thousands to die with bulboes bursting. Soon humans are similarly affected and eventually, after disbelief in pestilences [“they only happen in history”] causes uncomprehending, comfortable stasis and scepticism, the enormity of what is happening hits home. The numbers afflicted rise; first slowly then exponentially and by time the plague-arriving Spring gives way to a sweltering summer, over 100 deaths a day are occurring. The New Normal governs lives. Emergency measures are rushed in; city gates and the commercial harbour are closed; sporting activities and beach bathing are prohibited. Food shortages emerge and rationing for basics is introduced. Plague profiteers prey on desperation and bewilderment; sufferers are isolated; entire suburbs are locked down; hospitals become overwhelmed and schools and other public buildings are converted into makeshift hospitals.

Part of the plague of Nazism

Mosque in Biskra in Algiers, similar
to the fictional Oban of the novel

Camus meditates tellingly on the psychological and social effects of the epidemic on the townspeople. A plague makes exiles of people in their own towns and homes; separation, isolation, anxiety, boredom and a quotidian claustrophobic repetition become their shared fate, seemingly without end to the sufferers. The living cannot even bid farewell to their dead. Camus’s plague is also a metaphor; when it was written, the plague was Nazism which had taken over and destroyed millions in unimaginable distortions of normal human behaviour. A character in the book, Tarrou, identifies the plague with people’s propensity to rationalise killing others for religious, philosophical or ideological causes. And it is in this sense of plague that the closing words of the novel observe:

 Camus, 1972

“..that the plague bacillus never dies or disappears for good; that it can lie dormant for years and years in furniture and linen chests; that it bides its time in bedrooms, cellars, trunks and bookshelves; and that perhaps the day would come when, for the bane and enlightenment of men, it would rouse up its rats again and send them forth to die in a happy city.”

But Camus’s narrator concludes, after the unaccountable dissipation of the plague when quarantine is lifted, gates open and families and lovers are reunited, that, in spite of all the horrors he has witnessed, “there are more things to admire in men than to despise.” He goes on to suggest that it is in ordinary virtue with people doing what they can for each other in the face of adversity, that extraordinary things happen to protect people from the worst depredations heaped on them by epidemics, whether from 'natural' causes or tyrannical governments or ideologies.. "There's no question of heroism in all this. It's a matter of common decency."

The apparent prescience of The Plague considered in today’s pandemic seems extraordinary. Camus describes so exactly our present situation: our fears, our mystification, our boredom, our longing for normalcy to return. He illustrates the moral dilemmas faced by humanity when in the throes of a plague and the range of human behaviours in response. But when it was published, the plague was recognised as Nazism and its attendant evils and Camus was widely recognised as a genius and awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1957. It remains one of the most important books ever written.

 Triumphant post script. Mahjong this morning!

Celebrations

 At the height of his powers

Eddie Merckx in the 1981 Giro d'Italia

By chance, I noticed that, yesterday, Wednesday 17 June was the 75^th birthday of Eddie Merckx. Not being a sports fan of any description, not Belgian and certainly knowing nothing of competitive cycling, even I am familiar with the name Eddie Merckx from the past. Always referred to in glowing terms as the greatest competitive cyclist in the world ever, his fame was as huge as his talent and his name still causes respect and recognition.

Around the beginning of his fame.

The more mature Eddie. 

Edouard Louis Joseph Merckx was born in Meensel-Kiezegem, Brabant on 17 June 1945 as the world was shuddering to a halt from the Second World War. In his long career, beginning in 1961 and ending on his retirement on 18 May1978, he won countless major races like the Tour de France, the Giro d’Italia and the Vuelta a Espana. In fact he became a world-beater in both spheres of cycling competition; both in the Grand Tours and in the one day Classics, demonstrating both strength and speed; equally capable of final bursts of energy and speed, and the necessary endurance to keep up the winning pace for days. He was driven to succeed and, after retirement, was most successful in coaching the Belgian national team for eleven years, until 1996.

He has been garlanded with honours during his life, though perhaps the chief one to savour was when King Albert 11 bestowed the title of Baron on him in 1996. Sarkozy made him Commandeur de la Legion d’Honneur in 2011 while Italy made him a Cavaliere and Pope John Paul blessed Eddie in Brussels in the 1990s. He has experienced health problems during recent years: in 2013 he had a pacemaker fitted for hypertrophic cardiomyopathy and was hospitalised on October 13 2019 after suffering a haemorrhage and falling, unconscious, from a cycle while riding.

So glad that I noticed the birthday item in the BBC News; I feel I have always known and respected the name Eddie Merckx but never knew anything much about him. My blog actually, incidentally, expands my knowledge little by little, even as I have to work harder to remember stuff!!

Lockdown here continues in a relaxed form so that cautious socialising has begun!! The blackbird, aka, MY blackbird, came back after a sad two day cessation of music for me, and frankly, the soundtrack of my social distancing and staying home alone, has been the sweet melodious outpouring from this exquisite feathered musician who visits my terrace regularly and frequently, every day. It may be the musing of a self-centred soul but it does feel like a daily gift!

I did begin with a birthday so will end by noting two. Today, that of my elder daughter in California, celebrating last evening to coincide with Father's Day when there was leisure enough from the straitjacket of Working From Home. And tomorrow, the 19th birthday of my middle grand-daughter. Not now aware of celebrations allowed in the U.K. but hope rides high!

Noticing Small Things

Artistic former window above Vervesdijk.

Lovely modern frontage with superb
Art Deco? window, top left.

 It seems to be a common feature of experience in Lock-down Times, that people are noticing, or celebrating, relatively small things, or previously unnoticed minor details, as life’s tempo has slowed. In that vast group of Seeing Features Normally Unseen, have come for me some beautiful touches of Brugge which I have been able to appreciate, often for the first time. Here are visual proofs of a late-onset ability to notice more, to be more alert to, delightful little features of the cityscape around me.

Part of the beautiful remaining 13th century walls of Brugge.
View from Pottenmakersstraat across the Augustijnenrei .

A

Above the heads of passers-by on Langestraat.
Think they used to be coloured; now a chic black.

On Steenstraat, beautifying a fairly ordinary
brick building above a shop.

Dancing girl beneath the trees
along the Coupure.

In Flanders' fields the poppies grow ....

Added because it is the most 'solid' reflection I have 
ever seen in a canal. Carmerbrug in distant centre
taken facing the corner of Spiegelrei.

Artistic former window on Vervesdijk

Fernand Edmond Jean Marie Khnopff 1858-1921

I advertised in a local online neighbourhood journal to see if I could find anyone, with a garden, willing to host four lovely Hellebores until mid-Autumn. I had been given three super specimens as a present by a visiting Dutch friend in January, to add to the single one my terrace already boasted. All four have given an amazing and prolonged flowering during the winter months but, a terrace is not quite a garden, and I needed the room while the plants died off to re-regroup next Winter. Astonishingly, a lovely couple immediately contacted me and the plants left yesterday for their new home in someone else’s garden. Chatting about art to the ‘hosts’, I discovered the name of Fernand Khnopff, a Symbolist artist born to a wealthy bourgeois family in Grimbergen, in Flanders, in 1858. The reason his name was mentioned was because one of his Bruges paintings, The Abandoned City, was based on the architecture of Woensdagmarkt where I live. I was so intrigued and as soon as I could, I trawled for information online. I was quite unprepared to discover so much about a cult figure of early 1900s art of whom I had never heard. The older one grows, the more infinite becomes the depth of ignorance.

Fernand Edmond Khnopff
Belgian Symbolist Painter
1858-1921

The Abandoned City
Based on the architecture of Woensdagmarkt.

In his early childhood, in 1859, Fernand Edmond Jean Marie Khnopff moved to live in Brugge when

his father was appointed Substitut Du Procureur Du Roi, before leaving for Brussels in 1864. Clearly, the architecture and atmosphere imbibed during his early childhood, of the mediaeval city of Bruges surfaced to play a notable role in his later artistic work. During his period studying Law at the Free University of Brussels, he developed a passion for literature, discovering the works of Baudelaire, Flaubert, and other French authors and with his brother Georges, he joined Jeune Belgique, a group of young writers including Max Waller, Georges Rodenbach, Iwain Gilkin and Emile Verhaeren.

Emile Verhaeren

Eventually, the young Fernand dropped out of Law School and enrolled at the Cours De Dessin Apres Nature at the Academie Royale des Beaux Arts in Brussels where a contemporary student, destined to become famous, was James Ensor. [The two met but did not admire each other and, in later life, became rivals.] During trips to Paris between 1877 and 1880, Khnopff discovered the works of Delacroix, Ingres, Moreau and Stevens and at the Paris World Fair of 1878 he became acquainted with the oeuvre of Millais and Burne-Jones, notable Pre-Raphaelites.

Marguerite Khnopff, Fernand's
sister and muse.

.

.

His first work was exhibited at the Salon de L’Essor in Brussels in 1881 and the critics’ reaction was harsh except for that of Emile Verhaeren who wrote approvingly of his art and became a life-long supporter. In 1883 Khnopff was one of the founding members of the Groupe des XX and exhibited at the annual Salon organised by Les XX. In 1885 he met the French writer, Josephin Peladan, who asked him to design the cover for his new novel, Le Vice Supreme, but the cover Khnopff created offended an eminent soprano, Rose Caron, who thought that the imaginary character he portrayed, libelled her. The vehemence of her reaction caused a sensational controversy, amplified in the French and Belgian press, inadvertently publicising his work and establishing him more securely in the public eye. Khnopff eventually destroyed the offending work, but continued to be invited by Peladan to design illustrations for his work.

Jeanne Kefer
An early portrait in 1885 showing Khnopff's ability
to mix visual realism with feelings of vulnerability
and silence.

In 1889 Khnopff had his first contacts with Britain where he often subsequently stayed and exhibited. Gradually he met all the important British artists like Watt, Hunt, Rossetti, Morris and Burne-Jones and from 1895 he worked as correspondent for the British art journal, The Studio, reporting about the artistic developments in Belgium and in Europe generally, and producing the rubric, Studio-Talks-Brussels. He also wrote and lectured on the British Arts and Crafts pioneers such as William Morris and Walter Crane whom he greatly admired. In 1898 he presented a selection of 21 works in the first exhibition of the Vienna Secession where his work was rapturously received. His work in Vienna became an important influence on the work of Gustave Klimt, one of the founder members of the Vienna Secession which was an art movement formed in 1897, of Austrian painters, graphic artists, sculptors and architects, closely related in style to Art Nouveau.

From 1900 Khnopff was absorbed in the building of his new home and studio in Brussels [sadly, since demolished] The design was inspired by the Vienna Secession movement, particularly by the architecture of Joseph Maria Olbrich, and Khnopff added highly symbolic, decorative concepts to turn the house and studio into a temple where his artistic genius could flourish; it was also a private tribute to avant-garde Symbolist art. His motto, On a que soi [One has but oneself] was inscribed above the main entrance and his passion for the theatre was demonstrated in his studio where a golden circle set in a white mosaic floor, marked the spot where he stood to paint. At the same time, he became actively involved in theatre designs and in 1903 he sketched the sets for a production of Le Mirage by Georges Rodenbach, directed by Max Reinhardt at the Deutsches Theatre in Berlin. The sets, greatly appreciated by the German audiences, evoked the gloomy, mysterious streets of Brugge where he had spent his very early childhood.

Palais Stoclet
now a World Heritage Site.

Also in 1903 Khnopff designed both costumes and sets for the World premiere of Ernest Chausson’s opera, Le Roi Arthus at the Theatre Royale de la Monnaie in Brussels and the scene was set for the following decade of theatre design for Fernand and even wider international fame. In 1904 the city council of Saint Gilles commissioned him to design the ceilings of the Salle de Marriages in the new Town Hall and simultaneously, Adophe Stoclet, a wealthy banker chose him to produce the decorative panels for the music room of the Palais Stoclet. Famous Vienna Secession architect, Josef Hoffmann, designed the Palais and Gustav Klimt, the decorative mosaic in the dining room. A happy reunion of some of the important Vienna Secession artists and an acknowledgement of the cult status of Khnopff by this time.

Fernand Khnopff was elected a member of the Classe des Beaux-Arts of the Académie Royale de Belgique in 1907, and contributed motions and articles to their Bulletin from 1912-1920. Publication of this journal was interrupted during WWI, but a supplement published in 1919 included numerous works written between 1915-18. Among them is a passionate argument for artistic reparations for the damage caused to Belgian cities by the German occupation, including the return of the missing panels from the Ghent Altarpiece from the Berlin Museum. During the war, he taught painting classes, wrote and continued to create. His last published article was in 1921 on the works of art inspired by Dante, tracing the artistic representation of the major texts of the Italian writer by artists from Botticelli to Rodin. This gave him ample opportunity to praise one of the British Pre-Raphaelites whom he most admired, Dante Gabriel Rossetti.

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June First Feestdag Blog

  

The last two or three weeks have been marked particularly by two welcome phenomena: almost constant sunshine and the frequent melody of the resident blackbird. With the terrace door open all day, sunshine glowing through the open door, have come frequent bursts of song. Frankly, Elysium for me. I have quietly walked to the door often to see the blackbird in full-throated song, perched on the warm brick terrace wall, seemingly oblivious to anything except capturing the joy of the moment. Often, daringly, he has sung as I worked out there, sometimes near, sometimes perched high on the top step of the Flemish facade of the Zwarte Zusters next door. I have been thrilled to hear what felt, ridiculously, was like a special present but today has been barren of song. Why is this? My terrace is still in his territorial patch. It seems a little late for mating finished, being the explanation.. Do blackbirds produce that divine harmony to welcome the eggs laid? Possible but doubtful. No, I lack a persuasive explanation but I DO miss it. One mustn’t expect a surfeit of sweetness to last I suppose, but I almost did!!

Astridpark in flow.

But in the meantime, the floral adornment of the terrace goes on, now that the Blessed Markt has been re-installed. I have been buying plants as if preparing for a wedding and the Satisfaction Quotient soars. Extraordinarily,

Along Langerei, early one morning ….

though chiefly unspoken in case I commit the cardinal sin against Englishness, of being Rather Pleased with Myself, I am really enjoying Lock-down. I do nothing at all that I don’t want to do; miss the daily swim but really enjoy the early morning walk and savour the rising sheen of sun on water; continue in haphazard fashion through the days and weeks, to examine books and assign some to possibly fortunate grandchildren and children who may and may not appreciate their singular good fortune; beautify the terrace; sit and read and drink on the terrace and enjoy the occasional Zoom and Facetime.

Dominic Cummings and wife, Mary Wakefield.

This may be somewhat doctored but not by me. Wish I knew how!

Nothing much disturbs these golden days, but the Affair Dominic has! British readers will understand the previous phrase as sufficient to recognise the irritation, disbelief and perhaps anger at the steadfastness of Boris Johnson’s loyalty to his supposed adviser, Dominic Cummings, who made unnecessary journeys North for child care during Covid19. He broke the current rules in a fairly mild way and yet went wholly against the texture of the advice he had helped devise: to Stay At Home in all circumstances. Dom is a proud contrarian and arrogant with it, so he saw nothing wrong with driving to be near his family in Durham, [260 miles] twice in fact, from London, “in case he and his wife needed childcare help”, and while there, driving to a local beauty spot, Barnard Castle, supposedly to test his eyesight or was it his stamina, although it happened also to be his wife’s birthday. It is just possible that Dom didn’t realise that the rules to help shield the vulnerable, and limit the spread of the

The Barnard Castle Trip Advisor page is full of spoof 

reviews from people enjoying the joke.

There is also one on social media sadly commenting

that her Dad died of the virus, in Barnard Castle.

So not always so funny, Dominic.
[Worth noting: Above, printed in The Telegraph.]

virus, were intended for everyone, not just the Poor Bloody Peasants. Boris’s refusal to sack him, bolstered by a phalanx of ministers, on cue, mouthing platitudes on radio and TV, supportive of the Chief’s position, presumably is an indication of Boris’s Need, his Urgent Need, for Dominic’s advice, possibly orders, on How To Run The Country. It looks like Boris prioritising the job of his elite adviser over the health of millions, and predictably, millions feel miffed. All these shenanigans stop me from feeling superior about the ghastliness of Trump’s America and I do resent that! The situation there is so awful, so destructive, so weird, that even Britain, dysfunctional as it has become, [John Crace suggests the appropriate name is now a Banana Republic!] is preferable, provided one’s support is exhibited in a gingerly, 'mind the poo', sort of way. It will only take a No Deal Brexit [echoes of the past] to sink HMS Great Britain altogether! But I suspect that we can rely on Dom ‘n’ Boris to manage that. Idealogues, unite!!

Globe Theatre Existential Threat.

Sam Wanamaker and a model of his dream Globe Theatre.

Shakespeare's Globe Theatre

opened in 1997.

Yesterday, in disbelief, I heard that the wonderful and iconic Globe Theatre might not be able to re-open after Lock-down. I was horrified; I had never even considered how the Globe is funded, just was thankful for it being there. I remember well how the American actor/director, Sam Wanamaker, [1919-1993] had this Dream-Come-True in 1997 when his long campaign to build a replica of the original Globe Theatre, came to fruition, alas, a little too late for Sam to see. His project, realised in 1997 as Shakespeare’s Globe, opened with a production of Henry V. The building is described as an academic approximation of the original 1599 design based on the available evidence of the 1599 and 1614 theatres. It is situated approximately 750 feet, [230 metres] from the site of the original building which, in itself, seems something of a miracle.

William Shakespeare 1564-1616

He left 26 shillings, 8 pence in his will

to Richard Burbage, "to buy a ring."

And so, let us look back to the origins. The Globe was built in 1599 using timber from an earlier theatre which had been constructed by James Burbage of Shoreditch in 1576. The Burbage family had owned the theatre but leased the land on

Richard Burbage 1567-1619

pre-eminent Shakespearean actor

of his day. Major owner of the Globe 

Theatre.

which it stood and when the lease expired in 1598 and the owner of the land, Giles Allen, refused to renew it, claiming the theatre as his, decisive action was taken. A rescue was surreptitiously mounted on December 28, 1598 while Allen was celebrating Christmas
elsewhere. A group of actors and friends of carpenter Peter Street, quietly dismembered the building and took it in its entirety, for storage in his waterfront warehouse in Bridewell. In the following Spring, 1599, the entire collection of constituents was ferried across the Thames to a site on marshy gardens near Maiden Lane, Southwark where a wharf or bank was created to raise the theatre from possible future flooding. The area was a perfect choice: it was outside the control of the City officials, already hostile to the theatre world. Furthermore, there were two established theatres in situ, the Rose and the Crown, and a variety of entertainment outlets such as animal-baiting arenas, taverns and brothels. The subsequent theatre, the Globe, was larger than Burbage’s original and was now partially owned by Richard Burbage, James’s son, an eminent actor, while John Heminges, Augustine Phillips, Thomas Pope and William Shakespeare, all members of the Lord Chamberlain’s Men theatre group, bought shares of 10% each. The one, subsequently costly, mistake in the re-building, due to lack of money, was to roof the theatre with thatch instead of tiles.

From Long View of London from Bankside

Wencelaus Hollar 1647

On 29 June, 1613, the relatively new, hugely popular Globe went up in flames after the misfiring of a theatrical cannon set off as part of a performance, ignited the wooden beams and thatching. No lives were lost but the building was razed to the ground though, extraordinarily, was re-built in the following year, roofed in tiles. A bigger menace came with the Puritans who closed all theatres in 1642 and had the theatre pulled down, 1644-45, to make room for tenements. The Globe had been a three-storey open air, amphitheatre, around 100 feet in diameter, that could house up to 3000 spectators. [Current safety regulations limit the modern Globe to an audience of 1400.] In the sketch, then the 1647 etching by Wenceslaus Hollar, Long View of London from Bankside, the Globe is shown as round but in 1988-99, the uncovering of a small part of the Globe’s foundation suggested that it had been a polygon of 20 sides.

Bankside 1647

Inside the theatre, there was a pit or yard, harking back to earlier performances of plays given in inn yards; in the pit, for a penny, the so-called groundlings [peasants] could stand on the rush-strewn earthen floor to watch performances. In the 1989 dig, a layer of close-packed nutshells was found, no doubt providing an extra stratum of hardy ground cover. Around the yard were three vertical levels of seats, more expensive than the one penny standing pit. A rectangular platform, an apron stage, jutted out into and over the open air standing arena at a height of about five feet, and measured roughly 43 feet [13.1 metres] by 27 feet [8.2 metres] The apron stage had a trap door for performers.

Globe to close! [20/05/2020]

The site of Shakespeare’s Globe to give its full modern title, also includes the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse, an indoor theatre opened in January 2014 which is a candle-lit space based on the indoor playhouses of Jacobean London. The Sackler Studios, an educational and rehearsal studio complex, is nearby. The modern Globe is an important part of Britain’s cultural landscape but receives no Governmental subsidy, generating 95% of its income from ticket sales, guided tours, education workshops, retail and catering so that this current prolonged closure when some expense nonetheless still continues as in the need for security and online exchange, is challenging. It has recently submitted written evidence to Parliament stating that, after Lock-down, it will need 5 million pounds in emergency funding before it can re-open and begin again generating income from productions and event bookings. It is also asking for donations on its website. It claims, truthfully, that it is a well-run, well-managed and financially resilient enterprise but in the current emergency, “there is no mechanism to help us.”

16th century watercolour of the Globe Theatre.

Books and Stories, Part 2: Edith Cavell.

Edith Cavell

One of the books I have currently unearthed is a slim volume on The Dutiful Edith Cavell. In fact, it was finding both books, the one on Bruges in World War One and this Cavell story, which made the connection in my mind. In fact, Edith Cavell was a name from my childhood when her story featured prominently in my beloved Girls' Book of Heroines. I was

thrilled and horrified as a little girl with Edith’s story, often re-told by my mother, born in 1902, and I went, in adulthood, to find her final grave outside the East end of Norwich Cathedral. She had been born nearby, in Swardeston, daughter of the rector there, on December 4, 1865 and fought hard to become a professional nurse, not then a socially acceptable job for a girl of her class. She began her training in 1895 as a probationer nurse at the London Hospital and worked in a number of London hospitals holding increasingly important jobs such as staff nurse, Night Superintendent, Assistant Superintendent, Acting Matron [Manchester] and gaining a reputation as a teacher of nursing.

Edith with students,

Before she began her nursing career, Edith had spent the years 1890-1895 in Brussels as a governess to a French family. In 1906, a leading Belgian doctor, M. Depage, decided to found a surgical and medical home in Brussels and he looked for a highly-trained English nurse, preferably French-speaking. He regarded the current English nursing practices and standards as the best available, far superior to those in Belgium where the Catholic Church had traditionally provided all nursing and hospitals but increasingly lacked knowledge of modern developments. Almost inevitably, he chose Edith for whom the post as Directrice of l’Ecole Belge d’Infirmieres Diplomees seemed created. Her confidence, efficiency and success eventually overcame the huge prejudices she encountered, the most potent of which was the social hostility to a woman of her class working professionally. A particular help in overcoming all this prejudice was given by the then Queen Elisabeth who turned to the Ecole for nursing when she broke her arm. Elisabeth became a vocal supporter of Edith and her Ecole, conferring a powerful respectability and approval on both woman and institution.

By 1914, Edith was Directrice of three hospitals, giving weekly lectures to doctors and nurses and

Princesse Marie de Croy

fast becoming an admired public figure in Brussels. At the outbreak of war, she turned the Berkendael Medical Institute into a Red Cross Hospital. In August 1915, following the Battle of Dinant after which the forts at Namur surrendered, there were thousands of French and Belgian soldiers hiding in the surrounding woods, then, after the defeat at Mons, hundreds of British soldiers on the run joined them, seeking protection and sustenance from local peasants. It was then that Prince Reginald de Croy and his sister, Princesse Marie, whose ancestral home, the Chateau de Bellignies, lay in the Mons area, responded to many requests for help from locals hiding soldiers on the run. The de Croy family instigated what became the Brussels H.Q. of an underground movement for the

organised escape to Holland, of foreign soldiers in hiding in occupied Belgium. Quite soon after its formation, one of those involved asked Edith Cavell if she could consider hiding two fugitive British soldiers and she immediately agreed, thus becoming an important link in the chain of escape. Eventually, one of the ostensible escapees, a German agent, betrayed her and several others and all were arrested, accused of treason. Had the escapees been civilians, the charge would have been less severe but helping soldiers escape [in her case, over 200 men] thus enabling them to fight again, could only be treason, with death as the only penalty. No written evidence against Edith was found but she admitted everything to her German captors after they told her, untruthfully, that others had all confessed and supplied details. Of the thirty five arrested, only five were executed.

Enlistment poster.

In spite of strenuous protests from the American and Spanish embassies, the executions were carried out quietly, early on October 21, 1915. Edith was made to watch one execution before her own; in her turn, she stood unbound with eyes uncovered and the soldiers in the firing party all shot over her head leaving the officer in charge to deliver the coup de grace. The shooting of a woman spy was greeted world-wide with denunciation and horror and Edith’s name became honoured and recognised everywhere. Her execution certainly strengthened the resolve of the Allies and greatly influenced the decision of America to join the war. Interestingly, her death penalty was for “conducting soldiers to the enemy”. This she did not actually do; she hid them to allow others to do the conduction. A few hours after her execution, the German Military Code was amended and the following added:

‘Whosoever knowingly aids, in any manner whatsoever, such a person,[a person who has wished to aid an enemy of Germany] in concealing his presence, whether by giving him lodging, by clothing him, or by giving him nourishment, is liable to the same punishment. [death]’

Though retrospective, this gave, from the German point of view, a semblance of justice and administrative tidiness. 

Edith's grave in Life's Green, Norwich Cathedral.

Her courage was undoubted but Edith Cavell’s somewhat humourless and dour personality hid considerable kindness, concern for others and selflessness to a high degree. Daughter of a Victorian rector father and brought up with evangelical strictness, the concept of duty ruled her life and provided the foundation for all her life choices including those leading to her death. She had achieved an enormous amount in Brussels before the war in establishing a series of high quality teaching hospitals; in elevating the professional standing and standards of nursing in Belgium; and in changing public perceptions of women working professionally. But perhaps her martyrdom was the most effective persuader for the enduring fame of her life’s work.

The German authorities refused to return her body to England and so she was buried near the prison at Saint Gilles in Brussels but after the war, her body was exhumed and returned to England for a huge service at St Paul’s in London attended both by Royalty and members of the Government. Crowds lined the route from Dover to St Paul’s and after the service, as the cortege journeyed to Norwich Cathedral, many thousands more paid their respects. Her burial, outside the East End of the Cathedral in the grass-covered Life’s Green, took place on May 15, 1919. Her family had chosen this burial site near the place of her birth, in preference to the honour of burial in Westminster Abbey, A
curiously fitting tribute to a woman who never sought glory. And it is worth remembering that Anna de Beir chiefly owed her life to the world-wide scandal caused by the execution of Edith Cavell.

London Memorial.