Part 16

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.

Dr. Carpenter, in that most interesting work of his, 'Mental Physiology,' thus describes the state of hypnotism:--'The process is of the same kind as that employed for the induction of the "biological" state; the only difference lying in the _greater intensity_ of the gaze, and in the more complete concentration of will upon the direction of the eyes, which the nearer approximation of the object requires for the maintenance of the convergence. In hypnotism, as in ordinary somnambulism, no remembrance whatever is preserved in the waking state of anything that may have occurred during its continuance; although the previous train of thought may be taken up and continued uninterruptedly on the next occasion that the hypnotism is induced. And when the mind is not excited to activity by the stimulus of external impressions, the hypnotised subject appears to be profoundly asleep; a state of complete torpor, in fact, being usually the first result of the process, and any subsequent manifestation of activity being procurable only by the prompting of the operator. The hypnotised subject, too, rarely opens his eyes; his bodily movements are usually slow; his mental operations require a considerable time in their performance; and there is altogether an appearance of heaviness about him, which contrasts strongly with the comparatively wide-awake air of him who has not passed beyond the ordinary "biological" state.'

We must note, however, in passing, that the condition of complete hypnotism had been obtained in several instances by some of the earlier experimenters in animal magnetism. One remarkable instance was communicated to the surgical section of the French Academy on April 16, 1829, by Jules Cloquet. Two meetings were entirely devoted to its investigation. The following account presents all the chief points of the case, surgical details being entirely omitted, however, as not necessary for our present purpose:--A lady, aged sixty-four, consulted M. Cloquet on April 8, 1829, on account of an ulcerated cancer of the right breast which had continued, gradually growing worse, during several years. M. Chapelain, the physician attending the lady, had 'magnetised' her for some months, producing no remedial effects, but only a very profound sleep or torpor, during which all sensibility seemed to be annihilated, while the ideas retained all their clearness. He proposed to M. Cloquet to operate upon her while she was in this state of torpor, and, the latter, considering the operation the only means of saving her life, consented. The two doctors do not appear to have been troubled by any scruples as to their right thus to conduct an operation to which, when in her normal condition, the patient strenuously objected. It sufficed for them that when they had put her to sleep artificially, she could be persuaded to submit to it. On the appointed day M. Cloquet found the patient ready 'dressed and seated in an elbow-chair, in the attitude of a person enjoying a quiet natural sleep.' In reality, however, she was in the somnambulistic state, and talked calmly of the operation. During the whole time that the operation lasted--from ten to twelve minutes--she continued to converse quietly with M. Cloquet, 'and did not exhibit the slightest sign of sensibility. There was no motion of the limbs or of the features, no change in the respiration nor in the voice; no motions even in the pulse. The patient continued in the same state of automatic indifference and impassibility in which she had been some minutes before the operation.' For forty-eight hours after this, the patient remained in the somnambulistic state, showing no sign of pain during the subsequent dressing of the wound. When awakened from this prolonged sleep she had no recollection of what had passed in the interval; 'but on being informed of the operation, and seeing her children around her, she experienced a very lively emotion which the "magnetiser" checked by immediately setting her asleep.' Certainly none of the hypnotised 'subjects' of Mr. Braid's experiments showed more complete abstraction from their normal condition than this lady; and other cases cited in Bertrand's work, 'Le Magnetisme Animal en France' (1826), are almost equally remarkable. As it does not appear that in any of these cases Braid's method of producing hypnotism by causing the eyes, or rather their optical axes, to be converged upon a point, was adopted, we must conclude that this part of the method is not absolutely essential to success. Indeed, the circumstance that in some of Braid's public experiments numbers of the audience became hypnotised without his knowledge, shows that the more susceptible 'subjects' do not require to contemplate a point near and slightly above the eyes, but may be put into the true hypnotic state by methods which, with the less susceptible, produce only the electro-biological condition.