Paris Regatta—Absentees—Novelties—New Brunswickers—Steam yachts—Canoe
race—Canoe chase—Entangled—M. Forcat—Challenge.
While the voyage in the Rob Roy’s dingey on Sunday was such as we have
described, it was a busy time a little further down the river at St.
Cloud, being the first day of the Paris Regatta, which continued also on
the Monday, and then our British Regatta occupied the next four days.
These two were under separate committees. The British Regatta was
managed by experienced oarsmen, and His Royal Highness the Commodore of
the Canoe Club was patron—not a merely nominal patron but presiding
frequently at the committee meetings held at Marlborough House, and
generously contributing to the funds. The Emperor of the French also
gave us his name, and prizes to the amount of 1000_l_. were offered in a
series of contests open to all the world. In these better days now the
rowing world of France could lately count upon the patronage of their
distinguished Foreign Minister, M. Waddington, who rowed in the same boat
with me at Cambridge—‘ages ago.’
But this experiment of holding an international regatta in a foreign
country was quite novel, and there were difficulties around it which it
is not convenient to detail.
Notwithstanding the hasty predictions of people who could not approve of
what was originated and carried out without requiring their advice, the
regatta brought together a splendid body of the best oarsmen and
canoeists in the world from England, France, and America. Three
Champions of England for the first time contended at the same place. The
most renowned watermen came from Thames and Tyne and Humber, and
eight-oared boats raced for the first time on the Seine. The weather was
magnificent, the course was in perfect order, and better than almost any
other of equal length near any capital; the arrangements made were the
very best that might be contrived under the peculiarly difficult
circumstances which could not be controlled, even by a committee
comprising the very best men for the purpose, and zealous in their work;
and lastly the racing itself, for spirit and for speed, and for that
exciting interest which is caused by equal excellence sustained during
well-contested struggles, was never surpassed.
But this grand exhibition of water athletics was not seen by more than a
few hundreds of persons, so that “Tribunes,” richly draped, and with
streamers flying above, and seats below for 1000 visitors, often had not
three people there at a time.
The French oarsmen must have been absent at some “better” place, and of
the French public you might see more of them assembled on the roadside
round a dancing dog. The Emperor could not come—perhaps Bismarck would
not let him, and as the Prince of Wales had to be in his proper place as
the representative of England, receiving the Sultan in London, this
important duty prevented His Royal Highness from enjoying the pleasure he
might well have counted upon after the trouble he had taken in connection
with the British Regatta in Paris.
But after stating this disappointment bluntly, it will be remembered by
all who were at St. Cloud, that there was a great deal of real amusement,
as well as of hard work, and the whole had a strange novelty both in its
charms and its troubles.
For crews in “hard training” to sit down to _bifteck_, and Medoc,
omelette, and _haricots verts_, with strawberries and cream, and bad
French jabbered round, was certainly a novelty. To see a group of London
watermen, addressed in unknown tongues, but perfectly self-possessed,
visiting the Exhibition in the morning and rowing a race in the
afternoon, was new; and to observe the complete bewilderment of soldiers
and police at the whole proceedings, which came upon them of course with
surprise in a country where no one reads the papers for an advertisement,
except about a new play, or an infallible pill—all this was very amusing
to those who could listen and look on.
The English rowing-men soon made themselves as comfortable as they could
in their new quarters, and suffered patiently the disagreeables of French
lodgings. They repaired their boats, often broken by the transit from
London, and behaved with good humour in proportion to their good sense.
Even the grumblers were satisfied, because they were provided with a new
set of grievances; and so things passed off better than was expected by
those who knew the real circumstances of the venture. It was the first
regatta of the kind, and doubtless it will be the last.
No particular description of the various races for eight-oars, four-oars,
pair-oars, and sculling, by watermen and amateurs, would be interesting
to general readers; but a few notable lessons were there to be learned,
which will probably not be disregarded.
An interesting feature was added to the occasion by the arrival of four
men, who came from New Brunswick, to row at this regatta. They had no
coxswain to steer them, as every other boat had, but the rudder was
worked by strings leading to one of the rowers’ feet.
They contended first in a race where it was not allowed to use
“outrigged” boats (so called because they are so narrow that the oars
cannot work on the gunwale, but are rigged out on iron frames).
Moreover, they rowed in a broad, heavy, clumsy-looking craft, with common
oars like those used at sea, and they pulled a short jerky stroke, and
had to go round a winding French course—indeed with apparently every
disadvantage; yet they came in first, beating English and French, and
winning 40_l_.
The same crew went in next for another race, and in another boat, an
outrigger they had brought with them from the Dominion of Canada, and
again they were first, and won 40_l_. more. {128} At once “Les
Canadiens” became the favourites and heroes of the day. Englishmen
cheered them because they were the winners, and some Frenchmen cheered
them because they supposed the men were French, whereat the hardy
Canadians smiled with French politeness, but muttering the while round
protestations, intelligible only to English ears.
The river Seine was made unusually lively during the summer by the
movement upon it of a whole fleet of steamers of all shapes and sizes,
and with flags often exceedingly ‘coquet.’ Little screw yachts or steam
launches flitted up and down, sometimes so small as to admit only three
or four people on board, with a bit of awning to deflect the sun; others
were crowded with passengers. This style of locomotion is peculiarly
adapted to Parisians. It has all the heat, bustle, and noise that can be
desirable in nautical pleasures, and yet it almost avoids those highly
inconvenient undulations which open water has too often the bad taste to
assume. The completion of the Thames Embankment and of the purification
of our river has already made water travelling more fashionable in
London. Soon, perhaps, the Representative of some powerful Trades-union
or incorrupt Borough, will see by the Westminster Clock that it is time
to go down to the “House,” and will order his double-screw steamer round
to the water steps near his terrace door; and no coachman in those days
need apply for a place unless he can steer.
Even now, the number of miniature steamers, tug-boats, and private yachts
on the Thames is large and increasing; while a few years ago not one was
to be seen. Most of these are pretty little things, and the best of all
craft to be handled safely in the crowded waterway. The multitude of
them one sees at Stockholm shews what may be seen some day in Middlesex.
Several English screw yachts had come to Paris. Mr. Manners Sutton
kindly lent his to the Regatta Committee, and the steam launch of the
Admiralty Barge was also used, so that the umpire was able to follow each
race in a proper position for seeing fair play, while the Rob Roy was
anchored at the winning-post, to guard the palm of victory. Here, too,
various bomb-shells were fired high into the air at the end of each race,
and were supposed to correspond in number with the place of the winning
boat on the programme; but somehow they so exploded as effectually to
confuse the audience they were meant to enlighten as to “who had won:”
which uncertainty, we all know, is one of the principal excitements of a
regatta, and it can be sometimes prolonged even until the day afterwards.
The other features of these rowing matches on the Seine may be left to
the reader’s imagination if he has seen a regatta before; and if he has
not seen one, he could not well apprehend the thing by reading. The
canoe races, however, being more novel, have another claim on attention.
One of these races was for fast canoes, and to be decided only by speed.
The other was a “canoe chase,” in which dexterity and pluck were required
for success.
For the canoe race three Englishmen had brought from the Thames three
long boats with long paddles, and they were the three fastest canoes in
England, so far as could be proved by previous trials. Against these,
three French canoes were entered, all of them short, and with short
paddles. One of these, propelled by an Englishman (resident in Paris),
came in easily first, and the second prize was won by a Frenchman. Here,
surely, was a good sound lesson to English canoe-men who wished to paddle
fast on still water, in a boat useless for any other purpose, and slower
at last than a skiff with two sculls. Accordingly, we accepted the
beating with thanks.
The ‘Canoe Chase,’ first instituted at our Club races on the Thames, was
found to be an agreeable variety in nautical sport, and very amusing.
Therefore, two prizes were offered at the Paris Regatta for a canoe
chase, open to all the “peoples.” Five French canoes entered, but there
was only one English canoeist ready in his Rob Roy to meet all comers
(the Hon. A. F. Kinnaird).
The canoes were drawn up on land alongside each other, and with their
steins touching the lower step of the “Tribune” or Grand Stand. It was
curious to observe the various positions taken up by the different men,
as each adopted what he thought was the best manner of starting. One was
at his boat’s stern; another, at the side, half carried his canoe, ready
to be “off;” another grasped the bow; while the most knowing paddler held
the end of his “painter” (or little rope) extended from the bow as far as
it would reach.
All dashed off together on being started, and ran with their boats to the
water. The Frenchmen soon got entangled together by trying to get into
their boats dry; but the Englishman had made up his mind for a wetting,
and it might as well come now, at once, as in a few minutes after, so he
rushed straight into the river up to his waist, and therefore being free
from the crowding of others, he got into his boat all dripping wet, but
foremost of all, and then paddled swiftly away. The rest soon followed;
and all of them were making to the flag-boat anchored a little way off,
round which the canoes must first make a turn. Here the Englishman,
misled by the various voices on shore telling him the (wrong) side he was
to take, lost all the advantage of his start so that all the six boats
arrived at the flag-boat together, each struggling to get round it, but
locked with some other-opponent in a general scramble. Next, their
course was back to the shore, where they jumped out and ran along, each
one dragging his boat round another flag on dry land, amid the cheers and
laughter of the dense group of spectators, who had evidently not
anticipated a contest so new in its kind, and so completely visible from
beginning to end. Again, dashing into the water the little struggling
fleet paddled away to another flag-boat, but not now in such close array.
Some stuck in the willows or rushes, or were overturned and had to swim;
and the chance of who might win was still open to the man of strength and
spirit, with reasonably good luck. Once more the competing canoes came
swiftly back to shore, and were dragged round the flag, and another time
paddled round the flag-boat; and now he was to be winner who could first
reach the shore again and bring his canoe to the Tribune: a well-earned
victory, won by the Hon. A. F. Kinnaird, far ahead of the rest.
[Picture: The struggle]
The whole affair lasted not much longer than might be required to write
its history; but the strain was severe upon pluck and muscle, and called
forth several qualities very useful in life at sea, but which mere rowing
in a straight race does not require and cannot therefore exhibit.
Instantly after this exciting contest, a Frenchman challenged the winner
to another chase over the same course. But as the challenger had not
thought fit to enter the lists and test his powers in the chase, which
was open to him like the rest, it would, of course, have been quite
unfair to allow him, quite fresh, to have a special race with the
hard-worked winner, though the Englishman was at once ready to accept the
gage.
Among the visitors to the regatta was M. Forcat, whose peculiar system of
propelling boats I have mentioned in the account of a former voyage; and
he brought up for exhibition, and for the practical trial by the winner
of the canoe chase, a very narrow and crank boat, rowed by oars jointed
to a short mast in front of the sitter, and thus obtaining one of the
advantages possessed by canoeists, that their faces are turned to the
bow, and so they see where they are going.
It is no doubt an enormous disadvantage that in ordinary rowing your back
is turned upon the course, with all its dangers and beauties; and this
inconvenience is only put up with because you can go faster as you row
with your back foremost, and the scenery is of no account if a river
serves only to float the skiff but not to please the eye. As for
travelling on new and lovely waters in this style, with face to the
stern, it is just as if you were to walk backwards along a road, and to
think you could appreciate the picturesque either by a stare at the
retreating beauties you are leaving, or by a glance now and then over
your shoulder at what is coming. But though M. Forcat’s boat had the
rower’s face to the bow, the form and size of the nondescript novelty
were not to be understood in a moment, and we tried to dissuade our young
canoeist from entering hastily a new sort of boat, very easily capsized.
He had his own will, however, and his own way, because he was a Scot, and
only “English” in the sense we use that word for “British,”—too
frequently thereby giving dire offence to the blue lion of the North,
whose armorial tail is so punctiliously correct as to the precise curl
and make up of its “back hair.”
“He’s upset,” they cried in a minute or so. But we might well let so
good a swimmer take his chance; he merely pushed the boat ashore, and
then took a pleasant swim, until he was finally captured and put into the
Rob Roy’s cabin, to change his wet clothes as well as a modest man might
do behind a plaid screen and before the curious world.
Therefore in boats, as well as in business and politics, we may learn
lessons from one another, both on the water and on the land: from Canada,
as to the steering and the stroke; from France, as to the fast, quick
turning canoe in still water; and from England, as to the _man_.
It was to see this regatta and to help in it that the Rob Roy had pushed
her way to Paris; and for this six hundred miles of river navigation in a
sea-going boat were justifiable, yet often did I feel much the sea-trim
lifeboat yawl was out of place upon a calm inland water like the Seine.
Before the arrival of my little yacht, a challenge had been sent to her
to sail on the Seine against a French yacht there. To this I replied
that it would be scarcely a fair match for the Rob Roy, a sea craft, to
race on a river known only to one of the competitors; but that the yawl
would gladly sail a match with any French yacht having only one man on
board,—the course to be at sea either one hundred miles for speed, or one
week for distance, and communication not allowed with any other boat or
shore. No answer came.