We well recollect the sensation produced by the first keelless eight, that of Chester, in 1856. The club came like a meteor, and won both Grand and Ladies’ (the latter being an open race for the last time in that year). The art of ‘watermanship’ had not then reached its present pitch. The Chester men could not sit their boat in the least; they flopped their blades along the water on the recovery in a manner which few junior crews at minor regattas would now be guilty of; but they rowed well away from their opponents, who were only college crews. In that year, in consequence of the Chester ship being some dozen feet shorter than the iron keeled craft of Exeter and Lady Margaret, a question arose as to how the boats should be adjudicated past the post. The boats started by sterns, therefore Chester would be giving several feet start if adjudged at the finish by bows. So the stewards ordered the races to be decided by sterns past the post. This edict remained in force, but unknown to the majority of competitors, till after 1864. In that year the winner of the Diamonds reached the post several lengths before his opponent, but stopped opposite to it in a stiff head wind. The loser came up behind him leisurely, chatted, and shoved the winner past the post by rowlocks locking. Presently it transpired that the official fiat was ‘won by a foot,’ and that the judge did not consider the race over until the winner’s stern was clear of the line! This discovery caused some inquiry, and the half-forgotten edict of 1857 was thus repealed; and races have since then been adjudged again by bows. Among other reminiscences, we can recall the old starting ‘rypecks,’ with bungs and cords attached; these bungs had to be held by competitors till the signal to start; the ropes often fouled rudder lines, and were awkward to deal with. In 1862 the system of starting with sterns held from moored punts, now in vogue, was first adopted.
Such are some of the recollections which evolve themselves at this date, when we are on the eve of a new era and a new course. The old ‘time’ records, which have been gradually improving and which, to our knowledge, are recorded in the most random manner in the local calendar, will now have to stand or fall by themselves. A new course, with less slack water in it, will hardly bear close comparison with an old one as to time. The old soreness of fluky winds, and ‘might have beens,’ laid to the discredit of much-abused Poplar Point, must now find no longer scope. Luck in station there still will be, inevitably, when wind blows off shore; but there now will be no bays to coast, and no Berks corner to cut. The glories of Henley bridge have been on the wane for some years past; we can remember when enterprising rustics ranked their muck carts speculatively along the north side of the bridge; but fashion and the innovation of large moored craft have lost the bridge much of its old popularity. Besides, the newly planted aspens along the towpath, which were given to replace the old time-honoured ‘poplars,’ shut off the view of the reach from the bridge. It is no longer possible, telescopically, to time opponents in practice from the Lion and Angel window, as of old. It is not so much as twenty years ago that steamers were unknown on the reach. The ‘Ariel’ (the late Mr. Blyth’s) was the first of her kind built by Mr. Thornycroft. Till then, row-boats had the reach to themselves. We are old enough to recall the Red Lion flourishing as a coaching inn; then came its breakdown, when ‘rail’ broke the ‘road,’ and it shut up, until Mrs. Williams, the veteran landlady, who erst welcomed, and is still welcomed by, so many retired generations of oarsmen, migrated from the Catherine Wheel in 1858, and re-opened the Lion once more.
The strength of amateur talent is treble what it was twenty-five years ago. After the pristine Leander retired from action, and the St. George’s shut up, and the Old Thames Club dispersed, the Universities had Henley almost to themselves as to eights and fours until Chester woke them up in eights in 1856, and the Argonauts four a year or two before produced the nucleus of the talent which in 1857 burst upon the world under the new flag of the L.R.C. They were joined by Kingston in a four in 1859. In 1861 Kingston had their first eight. Thames, in like manner, began modestly with a four, which in due time developed winning Grand eights. We have already spoken of the march of watermanship. A quarter of a century ago the idea of amateurs sitting a keelless eight or four, without rolling rowlocks under, until they had first practised for days or weeks in a steady craft, would have been derided. In these days three or four scratch eights can be manned any day at Putney, capable of sitting a racing ship, and of trying starts with trained University crews. We are not laudatores temporis acti as to oarsmanship; sliding seats spoilt form and style at first until they were better understood; but, in our opinion, there are now (cæteris paribus as to slides versus fixed seats) many more high-class oarsmen than were to be found thirty, or even twenty, years ago. There are more men rowing, and more science, and better coaching than of old. ‘Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona;’ but we believe that there are on the average some five Agamemnons now afloat for every two in the fifties and early years of the sixties. Nor do we wonder at it with four or five times as many men on the muster rolls of rowing clubs of the present day. As to boat-building, we think that the ‘lines’ of racing eights have fallen off. We can recall no such capacity for travelling between the strokes as in Mat Taylor’s best craft, e.g. the Chester boat and the old ‘Eton’ ship; both of which did duty and beat all comers for many years. While looking back with interest, we look forward with hope, and believe that the new Henley will maintain, and perhaps improve, its modern enhanced and extended standard of oarsmanship, and that the new course, when fairly tried, will encourage, rather than discourage, competition that looks for fair field and no favour.
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London: Longmans & Co.
E. Weller