It was on the 9th of November, 1905, while watching the Cambridge University team make their splendid stand against the famous "All Blacks," that I began to wonder if any one would take an interest in, or even believe, the fact that football was played by the Chinese several centuries before Julius Cæsar landed in Britain. Some Chinese authors, indeed, have mixed up football with polo, though both games have been described separately, and with considerable detail, by more exact scholars. There is little or no excuse, moreover, for such a jumble, as the various characters used for football all contain the element foot, which naturally suggests kicking; whereas all those used for polo contain the element hand, which is equally suggestive of striking. One writer actually says, "Ball-striking (polo) is the old game of ball-kicking (football)." Another writer, after a similar remark, adds, "for kicking and striking are the same thing." Of the two, football is by far the older game. Its invention has been ascribed, cum omnibus rebus et quibusdam aliis, to the mythical Yellow Emperor of the third millennium B.C. Others assign its appearance to the age of the Warring States, third and fourth centuries B.C., when it formed part of the military curriculum of the day, and was a means of training soldiers and of putting their powers to a test. It is generally admitted to have been originally a military exercise, and a handbook on football, in twenty-five chapters, is said to have been in existence under the Han dynasty, say two thousand years ago.

The historian Ssu-ma Ch'ien, who died about B.C. 80, in his biographical notice of Su Ch'in of the third century B.C., has the following passage: "Lin1631 LIVING AGE.

VOL. XXXI.

tzu (capital of the Ch'i State) was very rich and powerful. There were none among its inhabitants who did not perform on the pipes, or on some stringed instrument, fight cocks, race dogs, dice, or play football."

Football (tsu chi) is mentioned more than once in the History of the Han Dynasty, B.C. 206-A.D. 25; and the famous commentator Yen Shih-ku, who died in 645, provides the following note: "Tsu is to kick with the foot; chu, the ball, is made of leather and stuffed, and is kicked about for amusement." In one passage we are told how the great general Ho Ch'ü-ping, when campaigning in the north, and almost destitute of provisions for his troops, "hollowed out a place for them to play football in," whatever that may

mean.

In the Hsi ching tsa chi we read:

The Emperor, Ch'êng Ti, B.C. 32-6, was fond of football; but his officers represented to him that it was both physically exhausting and also unsuitable to the Imperial dignity. His Majesty replied: We like playing; and what one chooses to do is not exhausting. An appeal was then made to the Empress, who suggested the game of tiddlywinks for the Emperor's amusement.

Towards the close of the Eastern Han dynasty (end of the second century A.D.) it appears from the Kuei chi tien lu, quoted in the T'ai ping yü lan, that the Emperor made archery and riding his chief business, and in his private life gave himself up to football, the result being that literary studies ceased to be cultivated as before. The Mirror of History does not disdain to record that the Emperor Hsi Tsung of the T'ang dynasty, who was almost wholly given up to sport of various

kinds of which football, cockfighting, and polo are especially mentioned, in the year 881 put to death a loyal Minister for venturing to remonstrate on the subject.

The ball, as originally used by the Chinese, was a round bag made of leather, or, as a poet tells us,

Eight pointed strips of leather made into a ball,

and was stuffed with hair; its roundness or otherwise does not seem to have been a matter of great importance. But from the fifth century onwards, the ball was filled with air, and its name was changed from chi to ch'iu, and roundness became an essential, because the ball was required "to roll, as well as to fly through the air." One authority, already quoted, says that the air-ball dates only from the Tang dynasty, and adds that "two long bamboos were set up, several tens of feet in height, and with a silken net stretched across, over which the ball had to be kicked. The players formed themselves into two parties, and the game was decided by points."

A writer who has dealt very fully with the game, and to whom we owe many of the following particulars, states as follows:

To inflate a football seems easy, but is really difficult. The ball must not be very hard, or it will be too bouncy, and full force cannot be used in kicking. Neither must it be very flabby, or you will have an opposite result, and the ball will not travel when kicked. It should be about nine-tenths full of air; this will be found to hit off the

mean.

Several writers have left us accounts of actual games: "On the Emperor's birthday two teams played football before the imperial pavilion. A goal was set up, of over thirty feet in height, adorned with gaily colored silks, and

having an opening of over a foot in diameter." The object of each side appears to have been to kick the ball through the opening, the players taking it in turns to kick, and points being scored accordingly. The winners "were rewarded with flowers, fruit, wine, and even silver bowls and brocades. The captain of the losing side was flogged, and suffered other indignities!"

In an illustration of a Chinese football goal the player who is kicking is placed in the middle, while on his right and left are seen the positions of those who have not and those who have already kicked, respectively. Immediately behind the actual player stands the ch'iso sê, whose function it appears to be to hand the ball to the captain during the progress of the game. There is also the net-keeper, who throws back the ball when it has failed to go through. The duties of the other attendants are not explained. The score consists of major and minor points, which are gained in particular ways; and there is a regular terminology to be used by the players, such as ace, deuce, tray, &c., besides other phrases peculiar to the game. As regards play, "the body should be straight as a pencil; the hands should hang down, as though carrying things; there should be great elasticity of movement; and the feet should be as though jumping or skipping." There are over seventy different kinds of kicks enumerated, besides endless over-elaboration in minor details. Kicking is forbidden under eleven separate conditions which constitute "fouls"; but no penalties seem to be attached; and all play is to be avoided in ten special cases, such as on windy days, when the ground is slippery, after wine, by candlelight, &c.

Besides the game of kicking a ball through a hole in a goal, the Chinese, to judge from another illustration in a well-known encyclopædia, must have had some other form of play with foot

and ball.

This supposition is borne out by several passages-e.g., in reference to a Taoist priest of the sixteenth century, who was a good player, we read, "He used shoulders, back, breast, and belly, to take the place of his feet; he could withstand several antagonists, making the ball run around his body without dropping." Then again, in an account of a game, we have such sentences as, "The ball was never away from the foot, nor the foot from the ball"; in fact, "dribbling," which would be meaningless as applied to the game described above.

It only remains to add that the names of several great footballers have been handed down to posterity, as witness: "Wang Ch'i-sou was a man of great talent; not one of the nine branches of learning came amiss to him. the Hsuan ho period (1119-1126) his reputation as a footballer was spread over the empire."

In

K'ung Kuei, a descendant of Confucius, is said to have excelled at football; and there was also a man named Chang Fên, who often, at the Fu-kan Temple, would kick a ball half as high as the pagoda.

A poet, named Li Yu, who flourished between A.D. 50 and A.D. 130, has left us an inscription which he wrote for a football ground:

A round ball and a square wall, Suggesting the shapes of the Yin and the Yang;1

The ball flying across like the moon, While the two teams stand opposed. Captains are appointed, and take their places,

According to unchanging regulations. No allowances are made for relationship;

There must be no partialities.

But there must be determination and coolness,

Without the slightest irritation at failure....

The two creative principles in nature, developed from the Great Monad.

And if all this is necessary for football, How much more so for the business of life!

Polo seems to have become known to the Chinese under the T'ang dynasty, or from about A.D. 600 onwards, when it was first considered by some writers, as stated above, to be a revival of football, though it was, no doubt, quite a separate game, learnt most probably by the Chinese from the conquered Tartars. The earliest mention of the game is by Shên Ch'üan-ch'i, a poet who died in 713, and it was in reference to a game played before the Emperor and his Court in the year 710:

His Majesty, who was paying a visit to his famous Pear Garden, had given orders that all officials above the third grade were to take part in the game; but certain eminent statesmen were worn out and aged, the consequence being that they were tumbled over on to the ground, and remained there, unable to rise, to the great amusement of the Emperor, Empress, and Court ladies, who all shouted with laughter at the sight.

The son and heir of this precious monarch was the famous Emperor who ruled China from 712 to 756; brilliantly in his earlier years, surrounding himself, as he did, with men of distinction in literature, science, and art; later on giving way to dissipation and extravagance, until rebellion drove him from the throne. Not content merely to watch polo, he used to play himself. A poet who lived two or three hundred years afterwards has left us this verse

on

THE EMPEROR MING HUANG PLAYING POLO.

The thousand doors of the palace are open, when in broad daylight

San Lang comes back, very drunk, from polo. . .

Ah! Chiu-ling is old and Han Hsiu is dead; To-morrow there will be none to come forward with remonstrance.

Public opinion seems always to have been against the appearance of Emperors upon the polo field, and many of the remonstrances of loyal statesmen have been preserved. Ma Tê-ch'ên, who died about 984, disgusted that his Majesty "played polo to excess," presented a long memorial on the subject, from which the following is an extract:

Your servant has heard that when two of your Majesty's predecessors went out boar-hunting and hawking, and when their Ministers remonstrated with them, they joyfully followed the advice given. Now, your Majesty takes delight in polo (literally horseball), and your foolish servant has found on reflection three reasons why this is not a fitting sport, and will state them even at the risk of the axe.

(1) When sovereign and subject play together, there must be contention. If the sovereign wins, the subject is ashamed; if the former loses, the latter exults. That is one reason.

(2) To jump on a horse and swing a club, galloping madly here and there, with no distinctions of rank, but only eager to be first and to win, is destructive of all ceremony between sovereign and subject. That is a second

tion entirely through his skill at football; and as a solatium for his lost eye he was promoted to be President of the Board of Works. So that it was not without cause that the gifted consort of an emperor, who died in 859 from an injudicious dose of the elixir of life, hearing that an official was teaching his Majesty to play polo, sent for him and said, "You are a subject, and it is your duty to aid the Emperor to walk in the right path. Can this be done by teaching him to play? If I hear any more of this I will have you well flogged."

In 1163, the reigning Emperor, who suppressed banqueting and encouraged athletics, had a very awkward accident. He had issued instructions for polo to be played regularly;

in the event of wind and rain, the ground was to be covered with a kind of oiled cloth well sprinkled with sand. His ministers, because of the importance of the Imperial life, were unwilling that his Majesty should expose himself to danger, and handed in many memorials, to none of which any attention was paid. One day, the Emperor decided to join in the game; and after playing for a short time, he lost control of his pony. The animal bolted under a verandah, the eaves of which were very low; there was a crash, and the terror-stricken attendants crowded around to help. The pony had got through, and his Majesty was hanging by his hands to the lintel. He was at once lowered to the ground; but there was no trace of alarm on his face, and, pointing to the direction taken by the pony, he quietly gave orders for its recapture, at which the spectators cried out Wan sui! Wan sui! (Long live the Emperor!-the Japanese Banza!)

left

The Kitan Tartars were great archers and polo-players, and we are told that their successors, the Nü-chên Tartars, carried on the tradition. On festival days the whole Court would appear in full dress on the polo ground, and after worshipping God with offerings of food

and wine and other ceremonies, the Emperor would change his dress for the various sports. There was archery to begin with; and,

when that was over, there was a game of polo. The players mounted welltrained ponies, and each one was provided with a club (ball-staff), of a good many feet in length, and shaped at one end like the crescent moon. They were then divided into two teams, the object of contention to both sides being a ball. Previously, at the south end of the ground, two poles had been set up, with boarding in between, in which a hole had been cut, having a net attached to it in the form of a bag. That side which could strike the ball into the bag were the winners. Some say that the two teams were ranged on opposite sides of the ground, each with its own goal, and that victory was gained by driving the ball through the enemy's goal. The ball itself was as small as a man's fist, made of a light but hard wood, and painted red.

Thus we read that when the young Duke of Lu was playing polo, and the ball fell into the hollow stump of a tree, his Grace poured in water and floated it out.

As regards ponies, it has already been stated that these animals were specially trained, and it may be added that in the year 951 a present of polo ponies, together with suits of clothes for the players, was conveyed by a Chinese envoy to the Court of the Kitan The Nineteenth Century and After.

Tartars.

Ponies, however, were not the only animals employed. We are told that the Prince of Ting-hsiang, under the Tang dynasty, "taught his ladies to play polo on donkey-back, providing them with inlaid saddles and jewelled bridles, together with the clothes and other paraphernalia re quired." Elsewhere we read that under the Sung dynasty "over a hundred young men dressed up as women, with bound feet and ornamental veils hanging down their backs, half of them in red and half in green brocaded robes, with elegant girdles and silken shoes, mounted on donkeys with carved saddles and ornamental trappings." Then they divided into two sides under their respective captains, and played polo for the amusement of the Court. So great, indeed, was the enthusiasm for polo, that it was played even by night, the ground being illuminated by a huge display of candles. Extravagant rewards were heaped upon polo-players, and also upon footballers, who were actually received in audience by admiring Emperors. In 881, when there was a question of certain official posts to be filled up, the Emperor caused the four candidates to play a polo tournament, and allotted the chief post to the winThe climax is perhaps reached when a maker of polo clubs, as duly recorded in the Book of Marvels, was taken up to heaven in broad daylight. Herbert A. Giles.

ner.

CHAPTER XII.

IN HOLBORN FIELDS.

Mr. Healy has left it upon record that M. de Beaujeu had always "a decent, natural affection for green fields." Also he "put a proper value on his own legs." So it seems they

went often walking to the Islington pastures in that idle spring, and, returning one day across Holborn Fields, observed Mr. Dane in a hurry westward bound.

"Romeo goes to his pure Juliet," said Beaujeu with an ugly laugh.

Mr. Healy waited for it to end.