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In Memoriam

The late Maurice W. Richmond was connected with Victoria College as Law Lecturer, and subsequently Professor of Law, since the College began work in temporary rooms in Pipitea Street. Many of the pioneer generation of students have fallen; but those who are left of the small group of our early students, a group remarkable for ability and force of character, will all bear affectiouate memories of the unaffected courtesy, the willing laboriousness, the gentle simplicity, and true learneduess of the late Professor Richmond. He maintained to the full the tradition of a family conspicuous for talent and moral worth, to which New Zealand owes a debt. His own interest in law was essentially that of the philosophic scholar, seeking with slow elaboration to find unambiguous expression for underlying generalisations. In philosophy, he spent many years in attempting to perfect a restatement, in the light of modern scientific knowledge, of the metaphysical theory of Leibnitz. One cannot help supposing that in England a wider scope might have been found for such extensive legal knowledge and painstaking accuracy, of a "high mall, with a great thing to pursue" Here, Professor Richmond probably found the best use for his powers as the "research" partner of a great legal firm. Shortly before his own death, he lost his eldest son, Lt. Col. James Richmond, also of Victoria College.

One of the truest friends the students have known passed away during the epidemic. The name of Mr. F. V. Waters was many times a welcomed one on College programmes, and at least one Capping chorus of his will go down to future generations; but we best remember him for his genial conducting of the choir at Capping celebrations —a task formerly undertaken by his son, Mr. Eric Waters. Only a few were permitted to know the yearly sacrifice that this entailed, and to realise the loss we suffered by his death.

I wonder how many will remember Lieut. H. M. Sanson, who was killed near Bapaume in August, 1918. "Little Harry of Palmerston North," we used to call him; but his heart was as big as he himself was small, and a finer man there never was. It. seems just a few days ago since you saw him sauntering casually to and from College with an amazing, and intensely infectious, disregard for time, lectures, and examinations; and particularly for drill parades on Thursday evenings.

But now, alas! Him, too, we look for in vain.

In deference to his memory, and in admiration of his manliness and courage, I am desirous of recording the following incident which happened him in that awful halocaust which befell the 2nd and 3rd Brigades of the N.Z.E.F. at Passchaendaele on the 12th October, 1917

You know sufficient of that ghastly tragedy of the Sea of Mud, of the rain and sleet, of the belts of treacherous uncut wire, of the German "pill-boxes" bristling with murderous machine-gnus, and finally, of the failure of our artillery to get up through the mud into position to support the attack. You have heard of these things many times, and it is not my intention to dwell thereon; but I mention them in passing to remind you of the terrible conditions under which the advance was attempted.

If one could speak of degrees of misfortune in the tragedy of Passchaendaele, the battalion to which Lieut. Sanson was attached was probably more unfortunate than the others: for when page 23 the advance began, the few guns which had been hauled through the mud into position in time to support the attack, commenced firing: on a line 200 yards in rear of the assembly line, with the result that, as soon as the range lengthened, the shells burst among our own men with disastrous result.

The survivors advanced slowly, dragging themselves through mud and slime; and all the time men were being shot down, and choked, and suffocated, in this terrible sea. As the remnants of the Battalion continued their advance, the tire grew more intense, and they were compelled to seek cover in an old disued trench astride a road then almost obliterated by heavy shell fire; and from here movement in any direction became well nigh fatal. Immediately in front of the trench was a wide belt of uncut wire, and the only possible means of advance lay along the road through a gap in this wire purposely left as a trap for the unwary; and controlled by a pill-box, about 200 yards away, containing three machine-guns.

This, then, was the predicament in which Lieut. Sanson found himself. When a Colonel, whose reputation for daring was well known, unexpectedly crawled along the trench and demanded, "How many men have you got, Sanson?" "Abour nine of my own platoon and three others besides, sir," was the reply. "Well, Sanson, I want you to rush that pill-box and establish yourself on the far side. Don't mind the machine-guns; you will get there all right."

But here a sergeant interrupted, saying, "Don't you go, Mr. Sanson; don't go. I was over that ground last night: its murder to stir from here"

The Colonel naturally reprimanded the Sergeant for such un-precedented behaviour; and then, addressing himself to Sanson, said, "You have heard my orders, Sanson." Again the Sergeant pleaded, and again he was silenced.

"Are you going, Sanson?" the Colonel demanded.

Was ever a man placed in a more terrible position? Could a subaltern refuse the direct order of a Colonel? Implicit obedience is the first duty of every soldier. To go would mean death with honour; but a refusal would bring in its train the ignominy of a Court-Martial, the deadly accusation of "cowardice in the face of the enemy," the conviction, and the sentence. But to refuse, although involving the degradation of sell, might be the means of saving others from an unnecessary sacrifice: and it was this factor that weighed most with Lieut. Sanson in forming his judgment. "I refuse to go, sir," he said.

"Very well, Sanson, you know the consequences."

About an hour later the order was repeated; and again he refused.

By this time the whole advance had been held up, and efforts were being made to consolidate the positions gained. Under cover of darkness the few survivors of the Battalion were relieved, and they straggled back as best they could to safer positions in reserve. To the amazement of Lieut. Sanson, and for reasons which he could never have known at the time of making his decision, and which I am not permitted to disclose, no action was taken as regards the Court-Martial—and Sanson was a free man.

But those who listened to his story afterwards marvelled silently at his courage, and thanked God that the choice had not been theirs.