The Shadow of Great Britain

387: Chapter 229 Golf and Press Censorship (6K2) 387: Chapter 229 Golf and Press Censorship (6K2) As an ancient sport originating in the 15th century, golf has taken root on the small island of Great Britain for a long time now.

However, the first region where golf became popular wasn’t England, but Scotland.

In fact, at the beginning, it was merely a game called Chole from the Flanders region of Belgium, similar to hockey.

This sport, which only required a stick, a ball, and a few mole-dug holes to play, quickly became popular in Scotland, and within a few years, it had become a national pastime loved by everyone from the nobility and clergy to the common folk.

But perhaps because the land of Scotland was so vast and sparsely populated, after some time, the playful Scottish commoners were no longer content with playing Chole in confined areas; they naturally expanded the activity to include nearby pastures and farmlands.

Various natural obstacles like wheat fields and pond ditches, though they increased the difficulty of the game, also made it more interesting.

After that, they gave Chole an official English name—golf.

But while everyone was having fun, the King of Scotland was not pleased.

The people, nobles and commoners alike, were so engrossed in playing golf and football that they no longer practiced archery.

If the English from the south came attacking, were you planning to send them into the hole with a swing or kick them into the goal?

His Majesty the King, deeply concerned that this might lead to a national defense crisis, finally made a decision against the wishes of the people.

In 1457, after consulting Parliament, King James II of Scotland officially issued a royal edict, ordering a nationwide ban on playing golf and football as well.

Although the royal edict said as much, its actual effect was similar to banning Mahjong in China.

The Scottish commoners played golf, and not even God could interfere; what say did you, the King, have in this?

Thus, after half a century, the edict was finally repealed in 1502.

The reason for its repeal was simple: the new king, James IV, grandson of James II, was himself a golf enthusiast.

One of his first acts after taking the throne was to head straight to the Perth bow maker’s workshop to order two fine golf clubs.

By 1553, one of Scotland’s leading religious figures, the Archbishop of St Andrews who presided over the dioceses of Aberdeen, Dunkeld, Galloway, and Argyll and the Isles, also issued a decree allowing locals to play golf in St Andrews.

However, the Archbishop of St Andrews probably didn’t anticipate the consequences of his decree, as the church found that many people would sneak off to play golf during Sunday sermons for a long time afterward.

As a result, Edinburgh even had to specifically forbid playing golf during Sunday sermons.

And in 1603, when England and Scotland formally merged to establish the Kingdom of Great Britain, it was only natural that the first British monarch, James I, brought the habit of playing golf from Scotland to England.

The Blackheath Golf Course that Arthur and his friends visited today was established in 1608 by this earliest British monarch.

Thanks to this monarch’s fondness for golf and the decree he issued in 1618—that it was the people’s birthright to play golf on Sundays—Arthur and his company could go out to play without having to check a calendar or face rebuke from the clergy.

Arthur stepped out of the clubhouse changing area, unfastening his tailcoat to reveal a white shirt and riding breeches underneath, and shaded his eyes with his hand to look at the sun hiding behind the clouds.

Beside him stood an ancient locust tree, unknown in age, with lush grass underfoot, while in the distance lay a putting green and a pond, and not far from the pond was a small river separated by a trench embankment, with a wooden bridge across it where occasionally, a few officers in Royal Navy uniforms could be seen riding by.

Under the trees on the green, one could occasionally see several gentlemen sitting and looking up at the sky with furrowed brows as if they were waiting for apples to fall.

Seeing the Royal Navy here was not surprising, for to the very north of the golf course was the Naval Academy that Eld had shown Arthur.

As for those gentlemen under the fruit trees, Arthur guessed they were most likely employees of the Royal Observatory at Greenwich.

The Royal Observatory lay within Blackheath Park, just a short walk from the golf course.

As to why these gentlemen looked so troubled, Arthur thought it probably had to do with Sir George Airy, the director of the observatory.

Working under that arrogant, jealous, and narrow-minded pedant must be headache-inducing just to think about.

Even in the field of electromagnetism, completely unrelated to Airy, he would lash out at Arthur and Mr.

Faraday for their new theories, not to mention dealing with the astronomic tyrant on a daily basis.

However, this tyrant did have his uses; in Arthur’s view, aside from being one of Cambridge’s leading mathematics fanatics and an outstanding astronomer, the fellow’s greatest feat was designing corrective glasses for astigmatism.

Arthur slung his golf club over his shoulder and stretched, casually swinging at the air a few times.

As a skilled swordsman, he quickly found the club’s center of gravity.

Just as he was pondering getting a ball to try out, the voice of Lionel Rothschild reached him from behind.