Those who desire to go still further back, have the authority of Virgil for stating that the Trojans under Æneas could organize and carry through what Professor Conington, in his version of the "Æneid," 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 Chimæra—
"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