execution; which truly of late have been just so observed, as if they had been purposely made to be broken. If you begin the good example, you shall hardly need to compel your men to follow; they will be ashamed to be vicious, if their commander be virtuous; and shame is a more effectual way to reform vice, than pecuniary penalties, or corporal pains.'

By this means the lives of many men will be saved, who otherwise, to support their vices, neglect their duty, commit thefts, and robberies, and rapes, and the like; and bring themselves under the lash of martial law, great punishments and ignominious deaths.

You should be as frequent and regular, at your publick prayers, as time and your affairs will permit; especially neglect it not before a battle, or other great undertaking. For prayer, by a strange and secret influence, (which none can tell but they who use it) brings from heaven new life, and vigour, and courage to the most weak and timorous.

And now I have happened to speak of courage, that necessary qualification in a soldier, I will give you my opinion what it is, and whence it usually arises.

Courage is either active, or passive, and both are as useful for a soldier, as a sword and a target. Active is that which does prompt and excite a man, to the undertaking and attempting great and hazardous enterprises. And passive is a certain even temper and frame of mind, which dangerous accidents cannot discompose, or divert from his intended purpose. On the contray, fear amazes and distracts, and disappoints the wisest counsels, and most deliberate designs; hurrying men into the danger they think to avoid, or into greater; as the hart in the fable, to escape the dogs, sought shelter in the lion's den; so it commonly happens in battles, that those men are killed in flight, who, by keeping the field, might have won the victory; and it is frequent for a coward, who runs away from a sword, to stumble upon a halter.

Inconsiderate rashness is by some men called courage, when it produces the like effect, but is in truth no better than madness, and I intend only to speak of that courage, which is the product of reason.

True courage springs from a contempt of death, or an opinion that one shall not die. Contempt of death arises from a confidence in God's mercy, or a consideration of honour, or both. Confidence in God's mercy will naturally grow as the fruit and effect of a good and virtuous life, and those men will be afraid of nothing, who are and who believe themselves to be under the sacred protection of Almighty God. And when honour (or the thirst after publick fame for well-doing) is added, I think there is all, which is necessary to make a man truly courageous. Honour by itself (I mean a great title or publick applause) is but an empty name, (not valued by wise men, save only when it comes as the just reward of virtue, the fruit of worthy performances) and the ap prehensions of death and damnation are two weighty things, when nothing but that empty name is put in the balance against them; now there are but a few atheists in the world so thorough paced, as to have totally extinguished the fears of a future being; however they may boast of it, when no danger seems to be near them. I have seen some

of those gallants, who talk nothing but honour, in the middle of a sea. fight, look as silly as sheep, and sneak themselves behind the main

mast.

But the far greater number of those, who go to the wars, are persuaded they shall not be killed, and that opinion is the cause of their courage, which, having a foundation so liable to uncertainty, is easily overturned by a little adverse fortune : For when the battle grows hot, when death presents itself in diversity of shapes; when one loses a leg, and another both his arms, and a third is shot off in the middle: When men and horses confusedly come tumbling down together, and a man's best friends lie bleeding by his side; then that confidence, which was groundless, vanishes of its own accord, and quickly follows disorder and rout, and down-right running away.

No man can promise himself before a battle, that he shall be alive afterwards, and every prudent man should be provided, not only for that which must, but as near as one can, for that which may happen. I mean every prudent man should think it may be his turn to be killed as soon as another, and therefore should endeavour beforehand to keep himself from all horrid, flagitious, enormous crimes, such as hinder one in times of greatest danger, from asking or hoping for God's mercy, and make a valiant man turn coward.

I have insisted the more on this particular, because we have lived to see the best king, having the best cause in the world, ruined by his own rebellious subjects, towards which ruin, I have been told, the irregularities of some of the loyal party did in a great measure contribute.

And because it is reported by some, and believed by many, that piety and devotion, virtue and religion, are only to be found amongst those who are dissenters from, or enemies to the church of England: I would persuade you, my dear friend, by your own practice, to endeavour the contradicting that wicked assertion: I would fain have you as eminent for your piety, as your native bravery, and let one add reputation to the other. King David among the Jews, Scipio Africanus among the Romans, and King Henry the Fifth among the English, were, in their times, the most pious and most prosperous generals in the world.

It is very convenient, I think I may say necessary, that your men be possessed with the justice of the cause they fight for. Let them be told by your chaplain this truth, that they are doing God's work, by en deavouring to restore those to right, who suffer wrong: to bring an universal peace to Christendom, and preserve it from falling into the slavery, wherewith, at this time, it seems to be threatened; to put an end to that blood and slaughter, ruin and devastation, which it has, for several years past, suffered under.

You may also do well, at convenient times, to relate to your officers and men, the great things their ancestors formerly performed in France, and be stirring them up to a like emulation. But I cannot, by any means, approve of their policy, who persuade their men to despise their enemies; instead of that, I would have you let them know, that they are not now to fight against France, lulled a-sleep by a long peace, and

drowned in the pleasures of ease and idleness; but against France awakened, grown watchful and wise; against men, whom a long war has made martial, and taught to be as good soldiers, perhaps, as are in the world; and against men, who have taken the strongest towns in Christendom, with greater facility, and defended them, with greater obstinacy, than any of their enemies, with whom they have hitherto been contending.

In my opinion, the contempt of a crafty enemy is one of the greatest advantages you can give him, and he who commands valiant men, as the English are, need not be afraid to make them sensible of danger. It will rather serve to inflame, than abate their natural courage; whereas, if they be taught to slight their enemy, they will be apt to think of a victory without labour, without dangers; such an imagination will teach them to be careless, and carelesness will lay them open to inevitable ruin and destruction. But you must not dwell too long on this subject, you must put them in mind, that, although the French are politick and powerful, they are yet very far from invincible; their courage will give way, when attacked by men of resolution, who are not afraid of dying (the truth whereof appears by the shock and disappointment they lately received before Mons.) And atchievements against them will be so much more glorious, by how much they seem more difficult and dangerous.

Remember your soldiers how unkindly the French used some of their fellows, who had faithfully served them many years, and to whom they owed a good part of their success. Use any arguments which may heighten their courage, or whet revenge, to a sharp and vigorous prosecution; and always let them know, they are in a place, where they must owe their safety and success, and the very bread they eat, only to the effects of their own valour and vigilance.

The season for action, this year, is now almost over, however you should not be absent from your men oftener, or longer than you need, although you have nothing for them to do; for vulgar minds are generally busy, and depraved, and will rather be contriving ill, than doing nothing. It will therefore be an act worthy your prudence, to exercise them at convenient times (above what is usual) in matches at leaping, running, wrestling, shooting at marks, or any other manly and innocent sports, which may render them healthy, and hardy, and give them no leisure to study mutinies, or other mischief.

If thus by your example, by the strictness of your discipline, by the veneration you shew religion, by the encouragement you afford the dispenser of it, you can persuade or compel your men to live well and temperate, you will find when you come to fight, that soldiers so well paid and provided for, so kindly used, and so strictly disciplined, and prudently managed, will enter trenches, mount walls and fortifications, endure steadily the shock of enemies, run upon the mouths of cannons, and perform actions becoming gallant men, even such as seem to others impossible.

FOR YOUR OWN PART.

As long as you have a superior commander, you must be a punctual observer of orders, and, when you are employed on any particular

design, endeavour to get your orders in writing; so may you best avoid committing mistakes, and best secure yourself from fathering the mistakes of other men. In any thing, especially if the hazard be eminent, never attempt less than you are commanded, and, without a very good reason, do not attempt more; for, in such case, if it succeed well, you shall only share the honour; but, if ill, you shall bear all the blame by yourself.

In a word, when it depends on your choice be wary in undertaking, speedy in prosecuting your design: Caution in resolution, and quickness in execution, being the two greatest characters of a wise man.

Thus, my dear friend, I have touched upon several particulars, which I did not think of, when I first set pen to paper, and doubt I have too much exceeded the limits of a modest letter; and perhaps a part, if not all of it, will be rendered useless to you, by a general peace, which is the end of his majesty's arming; and if it can be had on safe and reasonable terms, without more contending, is that which all good men ought to wish and pray for. If it happen otherwise, I shall then venture to write you something else, in another strain, which for the present is not convenient. I hope you will accept kindly, what is kindly intended, from

Aug. 30th. 1678.

Your faithful Friend and Servant.

A LETTER FROM A MINISTER TO HIS

FRIEND,

CONCERNING THE GAME OF CHESS.

From a broad side, printed at London, in the year 1680.

I

SIR,

Here send you my reasons for my disusing and declining the game of chess. This I premise, that I think recreation to be in itself lawful, yea, that like physick it is to some persons, and in some cases very needful. Also that this game of chess is not only lawful, but it may be the most ingenious and delightful that ever was invented. Others seem to be calculated for children, this for men; in most others there is much of contingency, in this there is nothing but art. But, though it be never so lawful and eligible in itself, yet to me it is inexpedient. And there are some particular reasons why I am fallen out with this exercise, and, I believe, shall never be reconciled to it again; and they are such as follow:

I. It is a great time-waster: How many precious hours (which can never be recalled) have I profusely spent in this game? O chess, I will be avenged of thee for the loss of my time! It is a true saying, that it is more necessary thriftiness to be sparing and saving of time

than of money. One offered on his death-bed a world of wealth, for an inch of time; and another, with great earnestness, cried out, when she lay a dying, Call time again! Call time again! This I heard, says a worthy minister, and I think the sound of it will be in my ears so long as I live.

II. It hath had with me a fascinating property; I have been be witched by it; when I have begun, I have not had the power to give over. Though a thing be never so lawful, yet I ought not to suffer myself to be brought under the power of it. I will not use it till I find I can refuse it. Reason and religion shall order my recreation.

III. It hath not done with me, when I have done with it. It hath followed me into my study, into my pulpit; when I have been praying or preaching, I have (in my thoughts) been playing at chess; then I have had, as it were, a chess-board before my eyes; then I have been thinking how I might have obtained the stratagems of my antagonist, or make such and such motions to his disadvantage; nay, I have heard of one who was playing at chess in his thoughts (as appeared by his words) when he lay a dying.

IV. It hath caused me to break many solemn resolutions, nay, vows and promises. Sometimes I have obliged myself, in the most solemn manner, to play but so many mates at a time, or with any one person, and anon I have broken these obligations and promises, and after vows of that kind I have made enquiry how I might evade them; and have sinfully prevaricated in that matter; and that not once only but often.

V. It hath wounded my conscience, and broken my peace. I have had sad reflexions upon it, when I have been most serious. I find, if I were now to die, the remembrance of this game would greatly trouble me, and stare me in the face. I have read in the life of the famous John Huss, how he was greatly troubled, for his using of this game, a little before his death.

VI. My using of it hath been scandalous and offensive to others. Some godly friends (as I have understood) have been grieved by it; and others (as I have reason to fear) have been hardened by it. Great inconveniences have arisen from the places where, and the persons with whom I have used this game.

VII. My using of it hath occasioned much sin, as passion, strife, idle (if not lying) words, in myself or my antagonist, or both. It hath caused the neglect of many duties both to God and man.

VIII. My using of it doth evince, I have little self-denial in me, If I cannot deny myself in a foolish game, how can I think I either do or shall deny myself in greater matters? How shall I forsake all for

Christ, when I cannot forsake a recreation for him?

IX. My using it is altogether needless and unnecessary to me. As it hinders my soul's health, so it doth not further my bodily health. Such is my constitution (being corpulent and phlegmatick) that, if I need any exercise, it is that, which is stirring and labouring. I can

• Being a minister of the gospel, and charged with the care of souls,