Jopling, Richard Mather

Born July 16, 1893, in Marquette, Michigan. Son of James Edmund and Elizabeth Mather Jopling. Educated Fay and St. Mark's Schools, Southboro, Massachusetts, and Harvard University, Class of 1916. Plattsburg Camp, 1916. With New York Red Cross, 1917. Joined American Field Service, September 13, 1917; attached Section Sixty-six. Transferred to U. S. Army Ambulance Service, Section 66/623. Croix de Guerre, two citations. Died March 16, 1919, in London, from shell-shock and strain. Buried Brockwood Cemetery, Surrey, England.

"Then onward still! with never thought of rest,
Till all the tumult of the world is past,---
That, with a conquering courage in our breast,
We may be men at last!"

THESE lines of Richard Mather Jopling's form almost a text of his life. "I have n't done all I should have done or could have done," he wrote his mother upon his graduation from St. Mark's School leaving behind him despite his words, a splendid record of achievement; " I've a debt to pay . . . . . by working faithfully, to the best of my ability, all through my life," and this purpose made his life one always of high resolve. "Dick" was a true artist, writing real music, prose, and poetry. Constitutionally delicate, his being was nevertheless alive with creative fire and energy, and his spirit flamed joyously high or flickered low in despair. But always to his comrades he showed only smiling good cheer to help them through the difficult days. Douglas Stewart mentions his "glorious incapability of realizing his own greatness . . . . . ... He never realized that in his living, in overcoming an inherent timidity and physical frailty, and in conquering all unfortunate circumstances he gave inspiration to a host of men. Dr. Thayer, of St. Mark's, remembered gratefully his "vision of the poet and high purpose of the prophet."

A sturdy conscience impelled his none-too-strong body to strenuous work, leading at the last to a heartbreaking death from nervous breakdown, after "Dick" had endured unflinchingly the ordeal of battle. The constant tension, the sickening, necessary brutalities, the ever-present sufferings of others, all the bitterness of war assailed and hurt him more deeply than most because of his sensitive nature, and finally caused his death.

"Dick" loved his home devotedly and it was a lonely, homesick little fellow who left Marquette to attend Fay School in Southboro, Massachusetts. Mr. Fay makes mention of his "severe, old-fashioned ideals of right and wrong, of duty and service and thoughtfulness of others." Going then to St. Mark's "Dick" entered eagerly into the school life. Some of his music was used by the chapel choir, for already his genius in composing was apparent, and his stories and poems appeared in the school magazine. Although in his own estimation he was lazy, yet he accomplished an amazing amount of work. Finishing the six-year school course in five years, "Dick" received his A. B. in three, spent one summer at the engineering camp, and another at Plattsburg. At Harvard, as an editor on literary and musical publications, a composer of music for the "Pudding" shows, and a senior class officer, he was one of the prominent and best-liked men of his college generation. A year of graduate study was followed by a trip to South and Central America, from which he returned in time to apply for Plattsburg in 1917. Rejected as below weight, he underwent in three months a surgical treatment normally taking a year, but even with strengthened constitution, he was again rejected. He immediately sailed with the Field Service, and, enlisting as a private in the U. S. Army, joined Section Sixty-six on the Aisne. William G. Rice, Jr., his chief, had "an increasingly high regard for his loyal friendship and dependable work, and his skill and resourcefulness as an ambulance driver." His piano raised their spirits and morale, for "he would play happy pieces even when feeling as blue as the rest of us." Upon his leaves, too, "Dick's" playing for the "doughboys" gathered crowds in the casino at Aix.

In London, returning from a visit to an aunt in England, the strain proved too great and broke him down at last." As surely as if killed in battle he gave his life for the good cause. Death came to "Dick" Jopling because he had given himself utterly in service.

• Tribute from Memorial Volume of the American Field Service, 1921