Of the early history of boats and boat-racing it is not necessary to say very much. It is enough to know that the written Cambridge records date back to 1827, though it is certain that racing must have begun some years previously ; that Oxford can point to 1822 as one of the earliest years of their College races ; that the two Universi ties raced against one another for the first time in 1829 ; and that Henley Regatta was established in 1839, when the Grand Challenge Cup was won by First Trinity, Cambridge. Opposite is a fac simile copy of the programme of this memorable regatta.
Those who desire to go still further back, have the authority of Virgil for stating that the Trojans under 2Eneas could organize and carry through what Professor Conington, in his version of the " lEneid," calls "a rivalry of naval speed." The account of this famous regatta is given with a spirit and a richness of detail that put to shame even the most modern historians of aquatic prowess. After reading how Gyas, the captain and coach of the Chimera " Huge bulk, a city scarce so large, With Dardan rowers in triple bank, The tiers ascending rank o'er rank" —how Gyas, as I say, justly indignant at the ineptitude and cowardice of his coxswain, hurled him from the vessel, and himself assumed the helm at a critical point of the race, it is a mere paltering with the emotions to be told, for instance, that "Mr. Pechell, who owes much to the teaching of Goosey Driver, steered a very good course," or that he "began to make the shoot for Barnes Bridge a trifle too soon." How, too, can the statement that "both crews started simultaneously, Cambridge, if anything, striking the water first," compare with the passage which tells us (I quote again from Professor Conington) how "at the trumpet's piercing sound, All from their barriers onward bound, Upsoars to heaven the oarsman's shout, The upturned billows froth and spout ; In level lines they plough the deep— All ocean yawns as on they sweep." It may be noted in passing that no one else seems to have felt in the least inclined to yawn, for " With plaudits loud and clamorous zeal Echoes the woodland round ; The pent shores roll the thunder peal— The stricken rocks rebound ; " which seems, if the criticism may be permitted, a curious proceeding even for a stricken rock during the progress of a boat-race. Finally, a touch of religious romance is added when we learn that the final result was due, not to the unaided efforts of the straining crew, but to the intervention of Portunus, the Harbour God, who, moved by the prayer of Cloanthus, captain of the Scylla, pushed that barque along and carried her triumphantly first into the haven—invidious conduct which does not appear to have caused the least complaint amongst the defeated crews, or to have prevented Cloanthus from being proclaimed the victor of the day. Only on one occasion (in 1859) has Father Thames similarly exerted himself to the advantage of one of the University crews, for during the boat race of that year he swamped the Cambridge ship beneath his mighty waves, and sped Oxford safely to Mortlake. Lord Justice A. L. Smith, amongst others, still lives, though he was unable to swim, to tell the exciting tale.
Before I take leave of this Virgilian race, I may perhaps, even at this late date, be permitted as a brother coach to commiserate the impulsive but unfortunate Gyas on the difficulties he must have encountered in coaching the crew of a trireme. Not less do I pity his oarsmen, of whom the two lower ranks must have suffered seriously as to their backs from the feet of those placed above them, while the length and weight of the oars used by the top rank must have made good form and accurate time almost impossible. A Cambridge
poet, Mr. R. H. Forster, has sung the woes of the Athenian triremists and their instructor "Just imagine a crew of a hundred or two Shoved three deep in a kind of a barge, Like a cargo of kegs, with no room for their legs, And oars inconveniently large.
Quoth he, ' inirres Tpdoce,' and they try to do so. At the sight the poor coach's brains addle ; So muttering ' ofktot,' he shouts out '41-cattot,' And whatever the Greek is for ` paddle.' Now do look alive, number ninety and five, You're 'sugaring,' work seems to bore you ; You are late, you are late, number twenty and eight, Keep your eyes on the man that's before you." So much for the trireme. But neither the Greeks nor any other race thought of adapting their boats merely to purposes of racing until the English, with their inveterate passion for open-air exercise, took the matter in hand. African war-canoes have been known to race, but their primary object is still the destruction of rival canoes together with their dusky freight. In Venice the gondoliers are matched annually against one another, but both the gondola and the sandolo remain what they always have been—mere vessels for the conveyance of passengers and goods. The man who would make war in a racing ship would justly be relegated to Hanwell, and to carry passengers, or even one "passenger," in such a boat is generally looked upon as a certain presage of defeat. Consider for a moment. The modern racing ship (eight, four, pair, or single) is a frail, elongated, graceful piece of cabinet work, held together by thin stays, small bolts, and copper nails, and separating you from the water in which it floats by an eighth of an inch of Mexican cedar. The whole weight of the sculling-boat, built by Jack Clasper, in which Harding won the Searle Memorial Cup, was only nineteen pounds, i.e. about 112 pounds lighter than the man it carried. Considering the amount of labour and trained skill that go towards the construction of these beautiful machines, the price cannot be said to be heavy. Most builders will turn you out a sculling-boat for from to £15, a pair for about £20, a four for £33, and an eight for 4'55. But the development of the racing type to its present perfection has taken many years. Little did the undergraduates who, in 1829, drove their pon derous man-of-war's galleys from Hambledon Lock to Henley Bridge, while the stricken hills of the Thames Valley rebounded to the shouts of the spectators—little did they imagine that their successors, rowing on movable seats and with rowlocks projecting far beyond the side would speed in delicate barques, of arrowy shape and almost arrowy swiftness, from Putney to Mortlake—in barques so light and " crank " that, built as they are without a keel, they would overturn in a moment if the balance of the oars were removed. The improvements were very gradual. In 1846 the University race was rowed for the first time in boats with outriggers. That innovation had, however, been creeping in for some years before that. Mr. Hugh Hammersley, who rowed in the Oriel boat which started head of the river at Oxford in 1843, has told me that in that year the University College boat, stroked by the famous Fletcher Menzies, was fitted with outriggers at stroke and bow ; and the bump by which University displaced Oriel was generally ascribed to the new invention.