Part 12

I have heard Cambridge men say, indeed, that after rowing on the Cam they feel quite strange on Thames water. They feel, they say, as if the boat were running away with them. I have experienced the feeling myself, when rowing on the Thames anywhere below Teddington; but most markedly below Kew. It is not due, however, to the mere difference in the depth of the two streams, but mainly, if not wholly, to the circumstance that the lower part of the Thames is a tidal river. It is not noticeable above Teddington, save (in a somewhat modified form) in those portions of the river called 'races,' where the stream runs with unusual rapidity. I should suppose that Oxonians felt the influence of this peculiarity fully as much as Cambridge oarsmen do; in fact, I know that this is the experience of some Oxonians, for they have told me as much.

I believe that the principal disadvantage which the narrowness of the Cam entailed upon boating-men at Cambridge, lay in the circumstance that Cambridge men never had an opportunity of rowing a level race. They had 'bumping races' for the college eights--as the Oxonians had--and time-races to decide between the merits of two or three boats, whereas at Oxford two boats could contend side by side. Thus it was to many Cambridge men a novel and somewhat disturbing experience to find themselves rowing close alongside of their opponents. It may seem fanciful to notice any disadvantage in such a matter as this; yet I believe that the matter was not a trifle. The excitement which men feel just before a race begins, and during the first half-mile or so of its progress, is so intense that a small difference of this sort is apt to produce much more effect than might be expected. I think the somewhat flurried style in which the Cantabs were often observed to row the first half-mile of the great race might be partly ascribed to this cause. Of course, I am far from saying that if a Cambridge crew had been decidedly better than their opponents, the race could have been lost or even endangered from such a cause as this.

And now it remains that I should point out that peculiarity in what may be called the Cambridge style of rowing--though it is not now systematically adopted by Cambridge crews--to which the defeats of the light-blue flag in the years 1861-69 were I believe to be chiefly attributed.

It should be remembered that before we can recognise a peculiarity of style as the cause of a long series of defeats, it must be shown that the peculiarity is neither trifling nor accidental. There are peculiarities in rowing which have a very slight effect upon the speed with which the boat is propelled by the crew. Amongst these may be fairly included such points as the following:--the habit of throwing out the elbows just before feathering, feathering high or low, rowing short or long (a technical expression now commonly, though incorrectly, applied to the length of the stroke, but properly relating to the distance at which the stretcher or foot-board is placed from the seat), sitting high or low, and so on. All these peculiarities--of course within reasonable limits--are unimportant, save in so far as they indicate that the style of the stroke itself is faulty. Then again there are accidental peculiarities, which may be exceedingly important in themselves, but which yet produce only a transient influence, because they are personal peculiarities of such and such a stroke, and when he has left his university they remain no longer in vogue. As an illustration of this sort of peculiarity, I may notice the remarkably effective stroke rowed by Hall of Magdalen in the year 1858-60. There the radical defect of the Cambridge style was almost obliterated, and all the good points of that style were fully brought out. The result was that, out of three races rowed with Oxford, Cambridge won two, and though they lost the third, yet they lost it in such a manner as to obtain more credit than any winning race could have brought them. I refer to the memorable race of 1859, in which the Cambridge boat was, at starting, half full of water, and gradually filling as the race proceeded, sank about half-a-mile from the winning-post, being at the moment of sinking only four lengths behind Oxford, notwithstanding the tremendous difficulties under which the crew had all along been rowing. Mr. Hall also rowed stroke in the great race with the famous London crew--Casamajor, Playford, the two Paynes, &c.--when Cambridge won by half a boat's length. We have, however, to inquire whether there is any point held to be essential by Cambridge oarsmen, which is sufficiently important and sufficiently faulty to account for the marked want of success which attended the light-blue flag in the years 1861-69. The following peculiarity appears to me to be precisely of such a character.

It was formerly held by nearly all the Cambridge oarsmen that 'the instant the oar touches the water' (I am quoting from a pamphlet called 'Principles of Rowing,' much read by rowing-men at Cambridge) 'the arms and body should begin to fall backwards, the former continuing at their full stretch till the back is perpendicular; they are then bent, the elbows being brought close past the sides,' etc. If a Cambridge oarsman broke this rule, so that his arms began to bend before his back was upright, he would be told that he was jerking. 'This is caused,' says our authority, 'by pulling the first part of the stroke with violence and not falling gradually backwards to finish it. The most muscular men are more than others guilty of it, because they trust too much to their arms, instead of making each part of the body do its proportionate quantity of work. It is most annoying to the rest of the crew, injures the uniform swing throughout the boat, and soon tires out the man himself, however strong he may be, because he is virtually rowing unsupported, and he has nearly the whole weight of the boat on his arms alone.'

I was myself trained to row the Cambridge style, and when I became captain of a boat-club, I was careful to inculcate this style on my crew, and on other crews which came more or less directly under my supervision. But I am convinced that the peculiarity so carefully enjoined in past time by the Cambridge club-captains, and still retained, is altogether erroneous for boats of the modern build. I first became aware that the Cambridge style is not the water-man's--and, therefore, presumably not the most effective--through practising in a racing-four with three of our most noted Thames watermen--the two Mackinnys, and Chitty of Richmond. They were then preparing for the Thames National Regatta, though not as a set crew. Accordingly the coxswain would frequently call upon us for a good lifting spurt of a quarter of a mile or so. During these spurts the coxswain was continually telling me that I was not keeping stroke, and I was sensible myself that something was going wrong. One who has taken part in boat-races very soon detects any irregularity in the rowing--by which I do not of course refer to so gross a defect as not keeping time. All the men of a crew may be keeping most perfect time, and may even present the appearance of keeping stroke together, and yet may not be feeling their work simultaneously. I was aware that something was going wrong, but I found it impossible, without abandoning the style of rowing in which I had been so carefully trained, to keep stroke with the rest of the crew. It seemed to me that they were doubling over their work, because while I was still swaying backwards they had reached the limit of their swing. Then they did not seem to me to feather with that lightning flash which the Cambridge style enjoins. Altogether, I left them after three or four long pulls with the impression that, though they might be very effective watermen, they had but a poor style.

Soon after, however, I had occasion to watch Oxford oarsmen at their work, and I found that they row in a style which, without being actually identical with that of the London waterman, resembles it in all essential respects. The moment the oar catches the water, the body is thrown back as in the Cambridge style, but the arms, instead of being kept straight, immediately begin to do their share of the work. The result is that when the body is upright the arms are already bent, and the stroke is finished when the body is very little beyond the perpendicular position.

Now let us compare the two strokes theoretically. In each stroke the body does a share of the work, and in the Cambridge stroke the body even seems to do more work than in the Oxford stroke, since it is swayed farther back. In each stroke, again, the arms do a share of the work, but in the Oxford stroke the work of the arms is distributed equally as a help to that of the body, whereas in the Cambridge stroke the work of the arms is all thrown upon the finish of the stroke. At first sight it seems to matter very little in what order the work is done, so long as the same amount of work is done in the same space of time. But here an important consideration has to be attended to.

There are two things which the oarsman does in whatever style he rows. He propels the boat along, by pressing the blade of his oar against the water as a fulcrum; but he also propels his oar more or less through the water. If instead of the actual state of things, the boat were to slide along an oiled groove in some solid substance, whose surface was so ridged that the oar could bear upon the ridges without any flexure, then indeed it would matter very little in what way the oar was pulled, so long as it was pulled through a good range in a short space of time. But the actual state of things being different, we have to inquire whether it is not possible that one style of rowing may serve more than another to make the slip of the oar through the water (a dead loss, be it remarked, so far as the propulsion of the boat is concerned) bear too large a proportion to the actual work done by the rower.

Let us make a simple illustration. Suppose a person standing on the edge of a sheet of water seeks to propel across the sheet a heavy log lying near the bank. If he gives the log a violent kick, it will scarcely move at all through the water, but after a few vibrations will be seen to lie a few inches from its former position. The force expended has not been thrown away, however, but has resulted in a violent shock to the kicker. But if instead of kicking the log the person apply the same amount of force gently at first and then with gradually increasing intensity, the log will receive a much more effective impetus, and its motion will continue long after the force has ceased to be exerted. The same amount of force which before produced a motion of a few inches will now project the log several yards.

And now to apply this illustration. If the object of the rower were to move his oar through the water--the boat being supposed for the moment to be a fixture--he could not do better than to adopt the Cambridge style of pulling. For this style gives a steady pressure on the oar at the beginning of the stroke, followed by a gradual increase, and ending by a sharp lift through the water. On the contrary, the Oxford style, in which arms and body apply all their strength at once to the oar, would probably, as in the case of our imaginary fixed boats, result in the fracture of the oar. If the boat were not fixed, but very heavy and clumsy, conclusions very different from the above would be arrived at. The Oxford style would be unsuitable to the propulsion of a heavy boat, because, although the oar would have very little slip through the water, yet the boat itself could not be moved in so sudden a manner as to make the applied force available. On the other hand, the Cambridge style would be very suitable; because, although there would be considerable 'slip' this would in any case be inevitable, and the force would be applied to the boat (as well as to the oar) in the gradual increasing manner best suited to produce motion through the water. Hence we can understand the long series of victories gained by the light-blue oarsmen in the 'old fashioned racing eights'. But when we come to consider the case of a boat like the present wager-boat--a boat which answers immediately to the slightest propelling force--we see that that mode of rowing must be the most effective which permits the oar to have the least possible motion through the water, which lifts the boat along from the water as from an almost stable fulcrum. Hence it is that that sharp grip of the water which is taken by London watermen, and by rowers at Oxford, Eton, Radley, and Westminster, is so much more effective than the heavy drag followed by a rapid and almost jerking finish which marks the Cambridge style.

The mention of public-school rowing leads me to urge another consideration. There are public-school oarsmen at Cambridge, and they hold, as might be supposed, a high position amongst university rowing-men. In general they form so small a minority of college racing-men, that they have to give up their own workmanlike style, and adopt the style of those they row with. But there is one club--the Third Trinity Club--which consists exclusively of Eton and Westminster men, and although it is a small club, it has been repeatedly at the head of the river, holding its own successfully against clubs which have sent in far heavier and better-trained crews. But even more remarkable is the fact that powerful college crews were sent from Cambridge to Henley between the years 1860-69 which have actually been unable to maintain their own against Eton lads! This of itself suffices to show that there was something radically wrong in the style then prevalent at Cambridge; for in such races age, weight, strength, and length of practice were all in favour of the Cambridge crews.

When I first expressed these views about the Oxford and Cambridge style in the 'Daily News' in April 1869, several Oxford and Cambridge men denied that the difference between the two styles was that which I have indicated, asserting that neither Oxford nor Cambridge oarsmen advocated working with the arms in the beginning of the stroke. It was so great a novelty to myself to learn, in 1858, that London watermen row in the manner I have described, and I found the very watermen who rowed in that way so confidently denying that they did so, that I was not greatly surprised to find many University men, and not a few of the first University oarsmen, persisting that the rules laid down in 'Principles of Rowing' before the modern racing-boats were used are still valid and are still followed at Oxford as well as Cambridge. It was denounced as a special heresy to teach that work should be done by the arms at the beginning of the stroke, instead of the old rule being followed according to which the arms were to remain straight till the body was upright in the backward swing, the work being done entirely by the body and legs up to that moment, and then finished by the arms. But before I ventured to enunciate a theory on the subject I had been careful to apply a number of tests not only while watching Oxford and Cambridge eights, but in actual practice. I had inquired diligently also of those who are not merely able to adopt a good rowing style but to analyse it, so as to learn precisely where and how they do their work. In some cases, I found first-rate oarsmen had given very little thought to the matter; but on the question being put to them, they quickly recognised the essential principles on which the most effective and the least tiring style for the modern racing-boat depends. One such oarsman said to me, after giving a few days' trial as well as thought to the matter--'You are quite right; arms, legs, and body must work together from the very beginning'; the work is done when the body comes upright; and not only must this be so for the work to be done in the most effective way, but it is essential also if the hands are to be quickly disengaged, the recovery quick, and a good reach forward obtained.

I found, however, that the essential distinction between a good style in the modern racing eight, and a good style in the old-fashioned boats, had been recognised (at least, so far as the modern boats are concerned) a year before my article in the 'Daily News' appeared. In an article on 'Water Derbies,' 'Wat Bradwood,' describing the University race of 1868, draws the following distinctions between the two crews, which precisely accord with my own observations on that occasion; only it is to be noticed that, whereas he is describing the beginning of the race, the whole of which he witnessed from the Umpire's boat, my observations were made from the shore not far from the finish, when Oxford was so far ahead that there was ample time to note separately and closely the style of each boat:--'The styles of progress of the two boats themselves are palpably distinct,' he says; 'Cambridge take a shorter time to come through the air than to row through the water; they go much farther backward than Oxford, and are very slow in getting the hands off the chest; their boat is drawn through the water at each stroke, but has hardly any perceptible "lift." Oxford, on the other hand, swing just the reverse of Cambridge, a long time in getting forward' (he means of course, a relatively longer time, for no good oarsman would ever take a long time in getting forward), 'and very fast through the water, driving the oars through with a hit like sledgehammers, while the boat jumps out of the water several inches at each stroke.' These last words again relate rather to contrast between the boats than to the actual lift. The 'drag at the end' in the Cambridge style used always to dip the nose of the eight, whereas the quick disengagement of the hands in the Oxford style prevents any dipping, so that by contrast the Oxford boat seen beside the Cambridge seemed lifted at the end of each stroke. In reality there was very little if any lifting, though the sharp grip of the water at the beginning of the stroke caused the boat to dip a little as compared with her position at the end. Theoretically, the less change of level throughout the stroke (from feather to finish) the better; but if there is any such change, it is far better it should be of the nature of a lift above the flotation-level than of the nature of a dip below that level.

Again, towards the close of the same article 'Wat Bradwood' made the following pertinent remarks respecting the Oxford style in 1868 and generally: 'The general style of Oxford has not deteriorated; though many outsiders fancied that Oxford rowed a short stroke, it was more that the time occupied by them in slashing the oar through the water was short than the reach itself; this deceived inexperienced eyes, especially when compared to the slow 'draw through' (query 'drag') of Cambridge, which often appeared for similar reasons a longer stroke than it really was. He attributed the defeat of the Cantabs, who were a stronger set of men than the Oxonians, to the teaching of their 'coach,' who had been (though this he does not mention) as good a 'coach' as ever existed for rowing in the old fashioned style of boats, but whose 'experience availed nothing to teach the modern style of light-boat rowing.'

In another article by the same writer, in the 'Pall Mall Gazette,' (1868), a noteworthy illustration is given of the value of a good style. 'Among the college boats in the first division at Cambridge this year, the strongest were perhaps First Trinity, Trinity Flail, and notably Emmanuel; the weakest in the division was the Lady Margaret crew,'--the crew representing St. John's College. 'But notwithstanding this, Lady Margaret went up one place, and pressed Trinity very hotly. There must, of course, be some special reason to account for eight weak men proving superior to eight strong ones.' There is a little (unintentional) exaggeration here; the stroke of the Lady Margaret crew was a strong as well as an elegant oarsman, and two others of the crew could certainly not be called weak; nevertheless the crew as a whole was undoubtedly weak compared with most of the other crews of the first division, 'That reason,' proceeds our author, 'is to be found in style. Every day of practice on the Cam you hear the "coaches" of the different racing-boats giving their crews certain directions, some absurd, and nearly all, from some accidental reason, useless. The chief of these is to "keep it long," and if you object to the results of this teaching, you are told that "length" is the great requisite of good rowing, and that "Oxford, sir, always beat us, because they are longer than we are." Now, this is true and yet untrue. At Cambridge "length" is acquired by making the men "finish the stroke," that is, by making them "swing well back" beyond the perpendicular. Of course the oar remains longer in the water, but we maintain that the extra time it is kept there by the backward motion of the body is time lost. The "swinging back" throws a tremendous strain on the abdominal muscles, the weakest rowing muscles in the body; very soon the men feel this strain, become exhausted, and unable to "get forward," and finally lose time and swing and "go all to pieces." Length obtained by going backwards is of no possible use. A crew ought to be "coached" to get as far forward as they can, to finish the stroke by bringing their elbows past their sides, and their hands well into their bodies, and then complaints about "wind" and "last" will be fewer. This was abundantly proved in the late May races. First Trinity, it is true, kept "head," but only because of their great strength, and because they had a stroke who understood the duties of his position. Before, the races every sporting newspaper, every supposed judge of rowing in the University, was certain about only one thing, and that was that Lady Margaret must go down; the only question was where they would stop. They, however, not only kept away from Trinity Hall, but finished above Emmanuel and Third Trinity, infinitely stronger' (which no doubt must be understood as meaning 'far stronger') 'boats. The reason was that they were the only boat on the river which rowed in anything like a good style. They had the reach forward, the quick recovery, and the equally quick disengagement of the hands, which marked the Oxford crew of 1868. Consequently although a very weak lot of men, they were able to vindicate style against strength. We hope' (added Wat Bradwood) 'that Cambridge generally will appreciate the lesson; it is one that has not been taught them for years, and results on their own river ought to show its value.' Less than a year after this was written, the Cambridge boat, with Goldie, the Lady Margaret stroke, at the aft thwart, were just beaten by Oxford in one of the best races ever rowed, and the year after, with the same stroke, they won for the first time in ten years. The subsequent successes of the Jesus boat on the Cam afforded further illustrations of the superiority of style over strength. For the Jesus boat has remained for years at the head of the river, though the crew as a whole has often been far surpassed in strength by the crews of Trinity, John's, and other colleges.

There is, as the writer from whom I have quoted above correctly says, 'no opposition between theory and practice in this matter, any more than there is in metaphysics or moral philosophy.' The ill-success of Cambridge in past years was in the main due to a want of appreciation of theory, and the absence of due recognition of the entire change which the introduction of the light outrigged racing-boat had produced in the art of effective rowing. The Cambridge 'finish to the stroke,' the 'lug at the end,' as sailors call it, was excellent with the old fashioned boats. It was indeed essential to success in a race, as was the lightning feather. But now the essential conditions are a sharp grasp of the water at the beginning of the stroke, the intensest possible action then and throughout the time the oar is in the water, so that the oar may be as short a time as possible in the water, but in the time may have the largest possible range. This result must not merely be obtained from each individual member of the crew, but from all together in precisely the same time. It is necessary that the stroke should mark the time in the most distinct and emphatic manner. In the Cambridge style, or what at least used so to be called, perfect time, though of course always desirable, was not so absolutely essential as in the Oxford style. The oars being a long time in the water, it mattered less if any oarsman was for a small fraction of a second behind or in advance of his fellows. But with the sharp dash upon the water and the quick tear through the water of the better style, perfect simultaneity is all-important. The stroke must not only have first a good style himself, and secondly a keen sense of time, but he must have that power of making his crew know and feel what he is doing, and what he wants them to do, which constitutes the essential distinction between the merely steady stroke and such a stroke as every man of the crew feels to be made for the place. When one of these 'born strokes' occupies the aft thwart, there is no occasion for the coxswain to tell the crew when to quicken or when to row steadily at their hardest; for the whole crew knows and feels the purpose of the stroke as distinctly as he knows and feels it himself.

The following paragraph, written a few days before the race (1879) is left unaltered. I may note that Marriott, the successful Oxford stroke of 1878, so far succeeded in improving the style of the Oxford boat when he took the aft thwart in '79 (far too late by the way), that Cambridge did not win by anything like the expected distance.

FOOTNOTES:

ROWING STYLES.

Professor Marcy has recently discussed, in a lecture on Living Locomotors (Moteurs Animés), the principles of propulsion. Had he been an Englishman he would probably have found some of his most striking illustrations among different cases of propulsion through water. But, although he limited his discussion of animated motors to those which work on land, he yet laid down the fundamental principle of all propulsion, which is that as little as possible--and therefore, if possible, none at all--of the energy employed to produce propulsion should be expended in injurious work. Even with the best carriages, he pointed out, there remain vibrations and shocks which must be attacked and destroyed to render the conditions of traction more perfect; they are veritable shocks, which use up part of the work of the horse in giving only hurtful effects, bruising the animal's breast, injuring his muscles, and, in spite of the padding of the collar, sometimes wounding him. Then he showed a simple experiment suggested by the able dynamician, Poncelet. To a weight of five kilos, (about 11lb.) a string is attached by which the weight can be lifted, but not much more. Then the experimenter tries to lift the weight rapidly with the string, which breaks without moving the weight, while the fingers are more or less hurt by the sudden shock. If now, a cord of equal strength, but slightly elastic, is substituted, the experiment ends differently. The sudden effort of elevation is transformed into a more prolonged action, and the weight is raised without bruising the fingers or breaking the cord. Yet a still more sudden movement would break the cord in this case, though a yet more extensible cord would resist even a yet more sudden jerk. According to the strength of the cord, its extensibility, and the weight to be lifted, must be the nature of the upward pull in order that the greatest possible velocity may be communicated without injury to the cord or to the lifter's hand. This simple series of experiments involves the essential principles of effective propulsion, where, at least, great velocity is among the results to be attained.

Although, perhaps, at present, the public are disposed to consider the University race from a sporting rather than from a scientific point of view, yet it has long been admitted, even by the most ardent lovers of rowing as a sport, that it has its scientific side. In a pamphlet on the 'Principles of Rowing,' by 'Oarsmen,' written somewhere about the year 1847,--it bears no date, but speaks of rowing as having first appeared as a public amusement 11 years ago, and the first University race on the Thames was rowed in 1836,--the writers urge that rowing surely deserves to be called a scientific pursuit, and proceed to trace out the 'main principles in virtue of which it claims a scientific character.' These principles, which were generally considered sound when they were originally enunciated, though even then they were beginning to be to some degree questionable, have been quoted over and over again since, or, if not verbally quoted, have been, in effect, adopted by writers on rowing. The justice of some of them has caused the entire set to be received without question, even by oarsmen who in practice depart from several of them in a very marked degree. The assumption has been that there is but one good rowing style, and that, therefore, a style adopted and proved by practice to be the best in the years 1836-1846 should be adopted as the best now. 'There is but one style,' says one authority, 'and one alone,' he adds with some redundancy. Now, in so far as river racing is almost always carried on in boats of the same kind for each class--eight oars, four oars, pairs, and sculls--it is in a sense true that there is but one racing style. But even in river rowing, as distinguished from river racing, there are more styles than one,--by which we mean more correct styles, for, of course, there are multitudinous bad styles in every kind of rowing. The style suitable for a racing boat moving at full speed would not be suitable even for the same boat at starting, and would be utterly unsuitable for a pleasure boat. We may remark, in passing, that, however suitable tubbing practice may be several weeks before a race, it is open to objection after a crew has settled into its racing stroke. No one who understands rowing will assert that even the two strongest members of either University crew can row in the same style in tub practice as in their eight at her full speed, or, seeing them, will fail to perceive that they row entirely different strokes in the tub and in the eight. Again, the style of rowing proved by practical experience to be best in seaside racing is entirely different from the style successful in river racing. Yet another style is essential to success in races rowed in the heavier boats used by men-of-war's men. And it will be admitted, we think, though no experiments have yet, to our knowledge, been made in this direction, that if matches were arranged among our best bargemen and lightermen we should see a mode of pulling which would differ as markedly from the man-of-war's man's strokes as that does from the stroke which O'Leary, of Folkestone, rows, and this in turn from the style of the best London or University oarsmen. So far as these last two styles are concerned, it should be remembered that they have been put to the test in the most decisive manner. The best London oarsmen have been repeatedly defeated in seaside rowing (even in still weather), and the best seaside oarsmen have been beaten in river rowing. It would be absurd to attribute this to awkwardness in unfamiliar boats, for any good oarsman can very soon row without awkwardness in any kind of boat. It was the style which made the difference--the style only. On à priori grounds, then, we should expect to find the question whether the style approved by 'Oarsmen' 30 years ago should be, as it is, the style constantly recommended now-a-days depending simply on the question whether the racing boat of our time is similar, so far as the requirements of propulsion are concerned, to the old-fashioned racing boats, however different in appearance the two kinds of boat may be. To assert this, however, would be almost equivalent to asserting that there has been no real improvement in the qualities of racing boats--nay, when one considers the great advantages possessed, in some respects, by the old fashioned boats and their much superior durability, we should have to acknowledge that racing boats had deteriorated. No one will for a moment assert this. We know that the racing boat of our time is not only much lighter, but travels with much less resistance through the water, maintains its velocity far better between the strokes, and can be made with equal effort to go at least one-fifth faster than the old fashioned racing boat. The antecedent probability is, then, that the modern racing boat requires a mode of propulsion unlike that which was approved in 1840 or thereabouts--requires, in fact, a style which in those days would have been justly regarded as radically bad.

There is direct evidence from the results of many years of racing to show that this difference really exists, as might be expected, though the evidence may probably be questioned by those who maintain that there is but one good rowing style. It is well known that the style approved by 'Oarsmen' in the work above mentioned was first definitely inculcated by Cambridge oarsmen. There is internal evidence in the pamphlet itself (as where the miseries of the Lent races at Cambridge are described) to show that some, and, therefore, probably all, who took part in preparing the work were Cambridge men. Again, it is well known that certainly until 1868, and perhaps later, the University crew at Cambridge was 'coached' by an 'ancient mariner,' who, if not one of the 'Oarsmen' and, as was generally reported, the actual writer of the 'Principles of Rowing,' was unquestionably imbued with the old fashioned doctrines. Now, of the six races rowed on the Thames in the old fashioned racing boats, Cambridge won no less than five. The Oxford crews, who rowed in a style more nearly resembling that now rowed by the most successful crews (though scarcely ever inculcated in verbal instructions), were not only beaten in every race save one, but in three cases were beaten out of all reason. Half a minute was the amount by which Cambridge won in 1845; but in 1836 (certainly over a longer course) they won by one minute, in 1841 by one minute and a quarter, and in 1839 by nearly two minutes. No wonder that when outrigged boats came in Cambridge oarsmen were loth to modify a style which had gained them so many and such striking successes. Nor did it greatly matter, when this happened in 1846, whether the style of rowing was modified or not. The first specimens of outrigged racing boats occupied a sort of half-way position between the old-fashioned inrigged craft and the exceedingly light, keelless boats now used. Thus, during the seven races rowed in the earlier form of outrigged boats, success was pretty equally divided between Oxford and Cambridge. In one race Oxford won on a foul; of the other six Cambridge won three, and Oxford also won three. But since the present form of racing boat was adopted (in 1857) Oxford has been almost as successful as Cambridge had been in the first nine or ten races. In 1857 Oxford won easily; in 1858 Cambridge won, but the stroke of the Oxford boat could use but half his strength, the forward or working thole of his rowlocks having been bent outwards by a wave which caught his oar before the race began. (The outriggers and rowlocks were shown to me at Searle's boat-house a few days after the race, and there could be no question that the chances of the Oxford boat must have been seriously impaired by the accident.) In 1859 Cambridge sank, and, though she was four lengths behind when this happened, there can be little doubt she would have won but for the original cause of the disaster--a wave which had half filled the Cambridge boat as she was turning to take her place at the starting-point. In 1860 Cambridge won by one length only. Then, as everyone remembers, there followed nine successive Oxford victories, some of which were of the most hollow kind. Cambridge then gave up the style to which she had so long been faithful. One of the ablest of the Oxford oarsmen, who was, however, connected in some degree with Cambridge, trained and coached the Cambridge crew of 1870, the stroke of which, it should be mentioned, was proficient in the correct style before he went to Cambridge. That year and for the four next years Cambridge won, though never in the hollow fashion in which Oxford had won the victories of 1861, 1862, 1863, 1864, and 1868. The lead of Oxford at the finish of these five races averaged over nine lengths, while the lead of Cambridge in the five races of 1870-74 averaged little over two lengths. In 1875 Oxford won by ten lengths, Cambridge in 1876 by five. In 1877 occurred the celebrated dead heat; but before bow's oar broke Oxford had won 'bar accidents.' In 1878 Oxford won, and again by ten lengths. Of the 25 races actually rowed to a finish (excluding the dead heat) since outriggers were introduced, Oxford has won 14, Cambridge 11; of the 19 so rowed out since the true modern racing boat was used, Oxford has won 11 and Cambridge 8. The difference is sufficient in either case to show (the numbers being considerable) that there is a true difference of style, the style of Oxford being the better. But when we consider how the victories have been won this comes out still more clearly. Making due estimate of the number of lengths corresponding to so many seconds of time difference (where the result of a race is so indicated in the list), for which purpose it is sufficient to note that as many seconds as the race itself has occupied minutes are equivalent to about 6-1/2 lengths, we find for the 11 victories of Cambridge since 1846 about 30-1/4 lengths, and for the 14 rowed-out victories of Oxford about 106-1/2 lengths--the Cambridge average lead being thus found to be less than three lengths, while the Oxford average lead at the finish has been close on eight lengths.

The difference cannot reasonably be assigned to any cause which was in operation when Cambridge had the larger share of victories. Nearly every cause which has been commonly assigned, including the unquestionably inferior arrangements for college racing at Cambridge, falls into this category. There can be very little doubt that the true explanation, as well of Cambridge success before 1850 as of Oxford success since then, resides in the circumstance that the two Universities have in the main adopted throughout the whole series of contests two different styles--each style excellent in itself, but the Cambridge as unquestionably superior to the Oxford for the heavier kinds of river boats as the Oxford style is superior to the Cambridge for the boats now actually used in river races. What the difference in the two styles is I shall now briefly indicate.

I am satisfied that the essential excellence of the old fashioned racing style as used in the old fashioned boats becomes an inherent defect in the same style as used in modern racing boats. I refer to the principle involved in the words italicised (by myself) in the following quotation from 'Principles of Rowing':--'The instant the oar touches the water the arms and body begin to fall backwards, the former continuing at their full stretch till the back is perpendicular. They are then bent, the elbows being brought close past the sides, till the hands, which are now brought home sharply, strike the body above the lowest ribs.' Such was the stroke that brave old Coombes used to teach, and such was the stroke by which, time and again, races were won before 1850. But in proportion as the racing boat has been improved, both by diminution of weight and resistance and by change of leverage, the necessity has increased for a more energetic application of the oarsman's power. A stroke which resulted in mere jerking, injurious to the rower and not adding to speed, in the old racing boats, is absolutely essential to the effective propulsion of the modern racing boat, when once at least full speed has been attained, for before this the old fashioned long drag with lightning feather is as useful now as ever. Now, no one who has watched a really good Oxford crew at full speed can fail to observe the way in which the oars literally smite the water at the beginning of each stroke. No one who considers the velocity with which they must move to give this sledge-hammer stroke at the beginning can fail to perceive that the body alone cannot give this velocity of impulse in the first part of the stroke. There is only one way in which it can be attained, and that is by making the arms work from the beginning, not merely in the sense in which they may be said to work when continuing at their full stretch, but by actual and energetic contraction. In the Cambridge style arms and body only work together after the back is perpendicular; in the Oxford style they work together from the beginning. The result is that by the time the Oxford oars man has brought his back perpendicular his stroke is finished; whereas the Cambridge oarsman has still to give that drag at the end which used to be so much esteemed, and still is justly esteemed, by sailors for sea-racing. The oar of the Oxford rower is a much shorter time in the water, simply because it is propelled through the water with far greater, or rather with much more concentrated energy. The Oxford stroke, again, is necessarily a few inches shorter. For as Cambridge men go as far forward and swing further backward, it stands to reason that they get a little more length. But they get this additional length at the cost of a great strain on the abdominal muscles, and with no proportional effect. A very strong crew which can maintain the long, dragging stroke with the lightning feather from beginning to end may win, as Cambridge men have won, but only because of their superior strength, not by virtue of that lift at the end, which wearies the most stalwart, causes sluggish disengagement of the hands, and in a long race has often caused a powerful crew to be beaten by weaker men rowing in a more scientific manner. It is not impossible, now that the Oxford crew have had set them the true Oxford stroke that we may have an opportunity of witnessing something of this kind on Saturday, though the manifest superiority of the Cambridge crew in strength and the lateness of the change in the Oxford boat are unfavourable to the chances of the dark blue. To return to the point from which we started. The just style of propulsion for each class of boat is a matter to be determined on scientific principles. There is no real conflict between theory and practice in this matter. Every change which has tended to increase the speed of racing boats has (like the changes in Poncelet's experiment) rendered necessary an increased energy, or, as one may say, an increased intensity of propulsion.

ARTIFICIAL SOMNAMBULISM.

Rather more than a quarter of a century ago two Americans visited London, who called themselves professors of Electro-Biology, and claimed the power of 'subjugating the most determined wills, paralysing the strongest muscles, preventing the evidence of the senses, destroying the memory of the most familiar events or of the most recent occurrences, inducing obedience to any command, and making an individual believe himself transformed into any one else.' All this and more was to be effected, they said, by the action of a small disc of zinc and copper held in the hand of the 'subject,' and steadily gazed at by him, 'so as to concentrate the electro-magnetic action.' The pretensions of these professors received before long a shock as decisive as that which overthrew the credit of the professors of animal magnetism when Haygarth and Falconer successfully substituted wooden tractors for the metallic tractors which had been supposed to convey the magnetic fluid. In 1851, Mr. Braid, a Scotch surgeon, who had witnessed some of the exhibitions of the electro-biologists, conceived the idea that the phenomena were not due to any special qualities possessed by the discs of zinc and copper, but simply to the fixed look of the 'subject' and the entire abstraction of his attention. The same explanation applied to the so-called 'magnetic passes' of the mesmerists. The monotonous manipulation of the operator produced the same effect as the fixed stare of the 'subject.' He showed by his experiments that no magnetiser, with his imaginary secret agents or fluids, is in the least wanted; but that the subjects can place themselves in the same condition as the supposed subjects of electro-biological influences by simply gazing fixedly at some object for a long time with fixed attention.

The condition thus superinduced is not hypnotism, or artificial somnambulism, properly so called. 'The electro-biological' condition may be regarded as simply a kind of reverie or abstraction artificially produced. But Braid discovered that a more perfect control might be obtained over 'subjects,' and a condition resembling that of the sleepwalker artificially induced, by modifying the method of fixing the attention. Instead of directing the subject's gaze upon a bright object placed at a considerable distance from the eyes, so that no effect was required to concentrate vision upon it, he placed a bright object somewhat above and in front of the eyes at so short a distance that the convergence of their axes upon it was accompanied with sufficient effect to produce even a slight amount of pain. The condition to which the 'subjects' of this new method were reduced was markedly different from the ordinary 'electro-biological' state. Thus on one occasion, in the presence of 800 persons, fourteen men were experimented upon. 'All began the experiment at the same time; the former with their eyes fixed upon a projecting cork, placed securely on their foreheads; the others at their own will gazed steadily at certain points in the direction of the audience. In the course of ten minutes the eyelids of these ten persons had involuntarily closed. With some, consciousness remained; others were in catalepsy, and entirely insensible to being stuck with needles; and others on awakening knew absolutely nothing of what had taken place during their sleep.' The other four simply passed into the ordinary condition of electro-biologised 'subjects,' retaining the recollection of all that happened to them while in the state of artificial abstraction or reverie.