The Labyrinth of the World and the Paradise of the Heart

Front matter

THE LABYRINTH OF THE WORLD AND THE PARADISE OF THE HEART

BY JOHN AMOS KOMENSKY (COMENIUS)

EDITED AND TRANSLATED BY COUNT LÜTZOW

Front matter

The LABYRINTH WORLD

·COMENIUS·

COUNT LÜTZOW

Introduction

INTRODUCTION

I feel certain that it is venturesome to attempt to bring a work of a Bohemian writer before the English-speaking public, now the largest public of readers in the world. Even the name of my country has been known to English readers only in connection with associations that are both incongruous and absurd.

It seems to me certain that the judgment that Bohemian critics have passed on Komensky's masterpiece, the "Labyrinth of the World," claiming it to be one of the world's great books, is not unfounded or based on patriotic predilections. That the book is so little known must be attributed to various causes. Almost at the time that the "Labyrinth" appeared, Komensky's Church, the "Unity," as it was called, of the Bohemian or "Moravian" brethren, was expelled from Bohemia, and it became impossible for a book, written by so eminent a member of that community, to find readers in those countries where the language in which it was written was almost exclusively known. That language itself declined completely after Bohemian independence had perished in 1620, at the battle of the White Mountain, near Prague. These obstacles continued for many years. Dr. von Criegern tells us that in 1749 a list of "dangerous and forbidden books," published at Königgrätz, included the "Labyrinth." Even early in the nineteenth century an edition of the book was suppressed. I shall refer to these facts again later when mentioning the various editions of the "Labyrinth" and dealing with Komensky's religious views; yet it may be mentioned here already that the "Labyrinth" is singularly free from "odium theologicum." The Bohemians have always been devoted to the "Labyrinth." Its mysticism was very congenial to them, and the variety of picturesque incident that it contains appealed to an imaginative people. The book being prohibited, the few copies that escaped destruction passed from hand to hand secretly, and were safely hidden in the scattered cottages of the Bohemian peasants. The many Bohemian exiles who left their beloved country rather than forsake their creed often took the "Labyrinth" with them. With the "Bible of Kralice," it was almost their only worldly possession, according to the words of their song, quoted by me on the title-page of this book.

Komensky—or Comenius, as he has generally been called in England—never shared the fate of many Bohemian writers; that is to say, complete oblivion. He has been saved from it by the fact that some of his educational works, written in Latin, have always been known to teachers. Thus his "Janua Linguarum" was in use as a school-book for nearly two centuries. An Anglo-Latin version of it was published at Oxford as late as in 1800. Some of Komensky's other educational works, such as the "Orbispictus," also became widely known. On the other hand, his later philosophical, or, as he called them, "pansophic" works have obtained but limited recognition. The power of condensing his thoughts and concentrating his mind that Komensky possessed when he wrote the "Labyrinth" failed him later in life, though the pansophic works for a short time attracted some attention, particularly in England.

To those who are not either professed pedagogues or students for whom long-past theories on natural history and natural philosophy—such as we find in the pansophic works—have an historical interest, Komensky's most valuable work will always be the "Labyrinth of the World." It is a work of the author's youth, though by no means his first work; and he who later in his life became somewhat diffuse has here concentrated his ideas, and given in a few pages an almost perfect picture of the life and thought of Bohemia and Germany as they appeared to one living in the early years of the seventeenth century.

The "Labyrinth of the World and the Paradise of the Heart"—to give the book its full name—belongs to that large class of writings that are founded on the world-old conceit that imagines the world as a city and man as a pilgrim, who beholds it and examines it. It is natural that this allegorical idea took very different shapes in the hands of different writers. Sometimes, as with Komensky, the world appears twofold—the evil, earthly world that is but mockery, and the "paradise of the heart" in which the soul finds solace, even before its union with God, "the centre of all." Oftener the latter ideal world only is delineated, as in countless works, from Plato downward. It is, I think, improbable that Komensky knew Plato's writings, but I feel certain that he knew the quaint work of the so-called Kebes, entitled Πιναξ. There is no doubt that this now little known work influenced Komensky to some extent. I have now before me a copy of the edition of the book published at Leyden in 1640. It contains an engraving that could almost be imagined as being an illustration of Komensky's allegorical work. We see the gate of life, through which all must enter; the various streets in which men reside, according to their callings; and in the heights the dwellings of eternal bliss. More's "Utopia" and Campanella's "Civitas Solis" undoubtedly influenced Komensky when writing the "Labyrinth," and he mentions both More and Campanella by name in the book. On the other hand, there is no trace in it of the influence of "Verulamius," as Komensky always calls Bacon, though his later writings have evidence of a considerable study of the works of Bacon, whom he frequently mentions. It may perhaps be conjectured that he only studied these works later, perhaps at Lissa.

The books, however, that influenced Komensky most when writing the "Labyrinth" were some of the works of John Valentine Andrea. It is certain that Komensky studied the works of the Würtemberg divine during his stay at Brandeis; and it is obvious that some of these works, such as the "Fama Fraternitatis," "Roseæ Crucis," "Peregrini in Patria errores," "Civis Christianus," "Republicæ Christianopolitanæ Descriptio"—itself obviously an adaptation of Campanella's "Civitas Solis"—and others too numerous to mention, greatly influenced Komensky when writing the "Labyrinth." The passages culled from these and other works of Andrea that resemble passages in the "Labyrinth" have been very carefully collected by Dr. von Criegern in his "Comenius als Theolog." This valuable book is, unfortunately, tainted with the Teutonic mania that strives to deny all originality of thought to the Slavic race. The mere fact that these analogies are chosen from various different works of Andrea weakens Dr. von Criegern's argument. It is not my purpose to enter into this matter here. It is certain that the of the "Labyrinth" is little but a paraphrase of the opening part of Andrea's "Peregrinus," that the pilgrim's visit to the philosophers () is largely founded on a passage of Andrea's "Mythologia Christiana," and that his visit to the Rosicrucians is mainly copied from Andrea's writings concerning that community. Yet this but slightly detracts from Komensky's originality of thought. It has already been noted that the conceit of a pilgrim travelling through the world, as well as the conception of an ideal city, are world-old ideas which belonged to Komensky, as rightly as to Andrea, whose "Republicæ Christianopoli Fanæ" is, as I have already noted, an adaptation of the "Civitas Solis." Even at a slight glance at Andrea's ponderous writings, it will be seen how Komensky has enriched and vivified those conceptions that he borrowed from him. Dr. von Criegern goes so far as to declare that even the pessimism of the "Labyrinth" is due to the influence of Andrea. "Andrea," he writes, "was entirely pessimistic in his views, and even in his appearance resembled Schopenhauer." A more profound study of the life of Komensky would have rendered it very clear that Komensky—at least, the Komensky of the "Labyrinth"—became embittered through the circumstances of the time, and certainly required no foreign influence to strengthen such feeling. That Komensky, when writing school-books, wisely refrained from expressing such views is, I think, very natural; nor is it to the point that books written many years after the "Labyrinth" certainly tend to what is called optimism.

It is certain that when writing the "Labyrinth" Komensky wrote as a pessimist. That term has in recent years been used so largely and so vaguely that it may perhaps be as well to mention the sense in which I employ it. I consider that man a pessimist who believes that if we sum up the emotions and sensations of life in this world, we will find that those that are painful are both stronger and more numerous than those that are pleasurable. If we assume this standpoint, a man is neither more nor less a pessimist whether he believes that the joys of a future life will make good the horrors of the present one, or whether he longs for the quiet of Nirwana, or patiently awaits the absorption of his individuality in the totality of the world-soul. To prove that Komensky was a pessimist, it is sufficient to read the "Labyrinth" without the last chapters ( to ), to which the author gave the separate name of the "Paradise of the Heart." Komensky, though eschewing theological controversy, writes as a devout Christian, and, indeed, member of the Unity. To Komensky (as I wrote some time ago), "it seemed that happiness, unattainable here, can be found elsewhere." This is, I think, the keynote of the "Labyrinth."

I have hitherto only referred to works that are earlier in date than the "Labyrinth"; but of all allegorical tales, the one that bears most resemblance to the "Labyrinth" is the "Pilgrim’s Progress." In both books a pilgrim passes through the evil world, with its great suffering and its many temptations. Evil guides lead astray both Komensky's and Bunyan's pilgrim, and both finally find perfect happiness and solace of their sorrows by means of God's grace. There are many minor resemblances—both books, for instance, contain a somewhat comic trial—that the reader will discover for himself. Yet there are great contrasts also between the two books, founded on the very different conditions of the writers. Bunyan knew only the tenets of his own community and the low life of his time. Komensky, on the other hand, had, at the time when he wrote the "Labyrinth," travelled widely, studied at schools and universities, inquired into the latest theological and philosophical theories of his time, conferred with many learned men, and by means of his acquaintance with Charles of Zerotin, acquired some knowledge also of the life of the great of the world.

Bohemian writers have sought analogies to the "Labyrinth" among yet later writers, and have compared Goethe's "Wilhelm Meister's Lehr-und Wanderjahre" to Komensky’s masterpiece. Such comparisons appear to me to be too far-fetched to require more than passing notice.

It may be well to give a brief outline of the "Labyrinth." The pilgrim, when arrived at that age "when the human mind begins to understand the difference between good and evil," starts on a voyage through the world to view it, and then "consider what group of men I should join, and with what matters occupy my life." The pilgrim is now joined by "Searchall" (called also "Impudence"), and afterwards by "Falsehood," evil guides that are servants of "Vanity, the queen of the world." By permission of "Fate, the lord regent of the queen," the pilgrim is allowed to enter the city of the world. He sees that it is "built in the shape of a circle," and is divided into countless streets, squares, houses, bigger and smaller buildings. The six principal streets are named according to the six principal professions, or "estates," as Komensky calls them, whose members dwell in them. They are the streets of the married people, the tradesmen, the scholars, the clergy, the magistrates and rulers, and lastly, the knights and warriors.

Bohemian writers have often remarked that these divisions appear somewhat arbitrary. It is, for instance, strange that matrimony should appear as an "estate" in distinction from other professions or callings. On the other hand, the reader is surprised that Komensky, writing in a country so largely agricultural as Bohemia, should not have mentioned the peasantry as one of the "estates." I venture a conjecture concerning this matter. The sympathy that Slavic writers—from Chelcicky to Count Tolstoy—have always expressed for the peasants, "the humble," is very evident in Komensky also. I need only refer to such passages in the "Labyrinth" as , when the writer refers to the cruel suffering that the Bohemian peasants underwent at the hands of the lords, and yet more of the overseers, whom the lords—often absentees—placed over them; and to the passage () where the peasants receive the ironic answer to their complaints, "that if by willingness, compliance, and true attachment to their superiors and rulers, they could gain their favour, they should be allowed to enjoy it." As the main purpose of the earlier part of the "Labyrinth" is to prove that all professions are but vanity, and contain more evil than good, there was here no place for the peasants, who were humble by necessity, and had willingly or unwillingly to follow Komensky's precept, that it is better to obey than to rule.

After the pilgrim has passed twofold gates, he beholds the various estates of mankind in the order mentioned above. When dealing with matrimony, Komensky expresses very pessimistic views, largely, I think, to consistently maintain his theory that everything earthly is evil; for it may be mentioned here that Komensky, who became a widower in 1622, married again in 1624, and after losing his second wife, married again late in life.

The pilgrim now comes to the street of the tradesmen, and Komensky's descriptions here throw a great deal of light on the dangerous and laborious life then led by those who were employed in trade and the transport of merchandise. The waggoners underwent many hardships, and the fate of the sailors was yet worse. Very picturesque is the description of a sea voyage and subsequent shipwreck. It is founded on the author's experiences during his journey to England, and is therefore a later addition, which we first meet with in the edition of the "Labyrinth" published at Amsterdam in 1663. Komensky's comparison of the different parts of a waggon to the different parts of a ship is one of the many quaint conceits that render the "Labyrinth" so attractive.

The pilgrim then visits the scholars or learned men. His descriptions of school-life, written from his own experiences, are very distressing. Plagosus Orbilius had at that time many imitators in the Bohemian schools. The pilgrim then pursues his journey through the halls of higher learning, and his visit to the scholars is indeed described with far more detail than that to any of the other "streets." The pilgrim visits consecutively the philosophers—here Komensky gives a curious list of philosophers founded on Andrea—the grammarians, rhetoricians, and poets. The writer violently attacks the heathen poets of Greece and Rome, whom, indeed, in his capacity as a pedagogue, he afterwards wished to expel from the schools and replace by Christian writers. Fortunately, from the point of view of classical scholarship, this attempt failed. The pilgrim, or rather Komensky, then visits the dwellings of those who teach the various other branches of learning, delivering short, and sometimes sharp, criticisms on the scientific theories that were current in his day. Sometimes he deals, with veiled irony, of matters also that are now no longer considered subjects of scientific research, such as the quadrature of the circle, the philosopher's stone, astrology and alchemy. As regards alchemy, we must, however, remember that it was considered by learned men a subject worthy of serious study, even many years after the "Labyrinth" was written.

The pilgrim next visits the street of the clergy. After referring briefly to the Jews and Mohammedans, Komensky devotes a long chapter (.) to the Christian creed. The comparative tolerance shown here to views different from those of the writer deserves notice, though it is always evident that his sympathy is with the "true Christians," as he terms the members of the Unity. Komensky's diatribe against unworthy priests and bishops, "who wear a coat of mail over a surplice, a helmet over a barat; who hold the Word of God in one hand, a sword in the other; who carry Peter's keys in front, and Judas's wallet behind; whose mind is educated by Scripture, though their heart is practised in fraud; whose tongue is full of piety, though their eyes are full of wantonness," will, at the present day, appear offensive to the members of no Christian community. Komensky's conception of Christianity, as a vast church that has many side-chapels for those who profess the various Christian doctrines, is one of the finest allegories in a book in which fine allegories are frequent.

The pilgrim's path next leads him among the magistrates and rulers. The trial of Simplicity before the judges is very quaint, and proves that Komensky was by no means devoid of humour. The names of some of the judges, such as Lovegold, Takegift, Loveself, remind the reader of Bunyan.

After the magistrates, the pilgrim visits the rulers. They have neither eyes nor ears nor tongue, and communicate with their subjects by means of tubes. Komensky thus describes satirically the difficulty which a humble man encounters when he endeavours to approach the rulers, who see, hear, and speak only through their courtiers and councillors.

The pilgrim is now conducted to the street of the soldiers and knights. Here the intense hatred of bloodshed and warfare, so characteristic of the brethren, is very evident. The battle-piece (.) has rightly been admired as one of the most striking and eloquent things that Komensky ever wrote. Of the knights, Komensky writes somewhat briefly. His writings show that he shared the detestation of coats-of-arms, and all hereditary dignities, that was characteristic of his community, from Chelcicky (indirectly its founder) downward. It is scarcely doubtful that Komensky dealt but superficially with this matter, to show well-deserved courtesy to Charles, lord of Zerotin, under whose protection he then resided at Brandeis, and to whom the "Labyrinth" is dedicated. Charles of Zerotin, a great statesman and a great Bohemian writer, was indeed, as regards his fame, by no means dependent on the glory of his ancestors. Yet even a far-seeing and enlightened nobleman like Zerotin, to whom Komensky's short and severe account of knightly life was in no way applicable, would perhaps have resented sharper attacks on the knights and nobles of his country.

Having now found but vanity and vileness in the six principal streets of the city of the world, the pilgrim, still conducted by his guides, Searchall and Falsehood, proceeds in the direction of the Castle of Fortune. The guides tell him that those who have in their estates struggled successfully in the city here enjoy perfect comfort and all pleasures. A curious intermezzo occurs here; near the lower gate of the castle the pilgrim meets the "newsmen"—it would be an anachronism to call them journalists—they carry whistles, on which they pipe different and discordant notes, some cheerful, some melancholy.

To the castle, one principal gate, that of virtue, leads; but it is difficult of access, and little frequented. There are also several side-entrances, which have various names such as Hypocrisy, Injustice, Violence, and so forth. Even those who have passed through the outward barriers are not all allowed to ascend to the castle itself. This depends on the caprice of Fortune, who lifts upward on her wheel those who find favour with her. The castle itself has three floors, in which the rich, the voluptuous, and the famous men dwell. The pilgrim first visits the rich, whom he finds hugging their chains, which they believe to be golden. He then ascends to the banquet hall of the revellers. Komensky here gives an incident of a truly comic character. The pilgrim is at first horrified by the behaviour of the banqueters, whom he leaves after having severely rebuked them. He is, however, induced by his guides to return, and joins in the revels—but too freely! He then arrives at the dwelling-places of the famous men, who have achieved immortality; but he is disappointed here also, for among those whose fame will endure for ever he finds Herostratus.

The pilgrim, finding the labours and the joys of the world equally vain and distasteful, now begins to despair; but his guides comfort him by telling him that they will lead him to the palace of the Queen of Wisdom—which is really that of worldly wisdom or vanity. He finds the queen surrounded by numerous councillors and guards, who bear fantastic allegorical names. His guides then accuse him before the queen of being "anxious, disgusted with all things, and desirous of something unusual."

The queen none the less receives the pilgrim graciously, and invites him to remain in her palace, where he hopes henceforth to live in peace. Meanwhile, Solomon, accompanied by a large following, consisting of philosophers and scholars of all countries, arrives at the queen's court, and claims her in marriage. The queen answers through "Prudence, her councillor," that "Wisdom was the spouse of God alone, and could wed no other." Solomon, however, remains at her court, and in his presence and that of his followers the queen receives numerous deputations of nobles, scholars, jurisconsults, labourers, and others. These petitions, and the replies given to them—like the pilgrim's visits to the streets of the world, and afterwards to the dwellers in the Castle of Fortune—throw a strong and clear light on many circumstances connected with the social and political life of Bohemia and Germany in the early years of the seventeenth century. They have, therefore, considerable value for those who study this period.

On the other hand, it must be admitted that many of the grievances and complaints contained in these passages of the "Labyrinth" are world-old, belong to all times, and will, no doubt, endure for ever. Men will always enlarge on the hardships of those who seek fortune, the pedantry and credulity of scholars, the "odium theologicum" so great among those who teach the doctrine of peace and goodwill, the brutality of the soldiery, the injustice of judges, "the law's delay, the insolence of office."

But to return to the pilgrim. He had been listening to the speeches of the deputations, with the other members of the queen's Court, when the audiences are suddenly interrupted. Incensed by the deceitful decrees of the queen, Solomon exclaims with a loud voice: "Vanity of vanities, and all is vanity!" He then tears the mask from the face of the queen, and she, who had previously seemed beautiful, now appears as a hideous hag. Solomon and his followers leave the queen's palace, and hurrying to the city of the world, they loudly proclaim the vanity of all earthly things. The queen is at first terrified by Solomon's invective, but soon recovers her senses, and assembles all her councillors, asking them to advise her how she can best expel Solomon from her dominions. Some advise the arming of all the queen's forces, but others suggest that the queen should employ craft rather than violence; at least, at first. The latter counsel prevails. Three of the queen's companions, Flattery, Affability, and Pleasure, follow Solomon into the city of the world, and entice him into the street of the married people. His follies there are described in a manner that very closely follows the Biblical account. The queen now decides to attack Solomon, who has been deserted by many of his followers. A fearful massacre ensues, and the terrified pilgrim exclaims: "O God, if Thou art a God, have mercy on wretched me!" and he then swoons.

We have now reached the second part of the "Labyrinth," to which Komensky has given the name of the "." Henceforth everything is changed; all sordid, and sometimes coarse, allusions to worldly matters vanish, and we find ourselves in an atmosphere of purest mysticism. Christ appears to the pilgrim and welcomes him home—that is to say, as one who, from his earthly wandering, has returned to the solitude of his heart. He then receives Christ as a guest in his humble dwelling, and they are mystically betrothed. Christ informs the pilgrim that he is one of those whom He has chosen, and gives him instructions as to his behaviour during the time that he will yet remain upon earth. These instructions are, of course, entirely in accordance with the teaching of the Bohemian brethren, the community to which Komensky belonged.

Though yet remaining on earth, the pilgrim now beholds the splendour of heaven in a vision, and sees God on a throne of jasper, surrounded by the hosts of the angels. The influence of the Apocalypse is here very evident. Komensky, as all the "brethren" of his time, was an indefatigable student of Scripture. The "Bible of Kralice," to which I have already referred, was always in their hands, and the "Labyrinth" shows many traces of its study. Komensky's vision of heaven is very striking, and I do not hesitate to say that it has sometimes reminded me of Dante's "Paradise."

After the vision has disappeared, the pilgrim falls on his knees and addresses to God a prayer, breathing that passionate and disinterested love of the divinity that is so characteristic of the mystics. With this chapter the book ends. But in this chapter, as in several others, such as that which deals with the pilgrim's mystical betrothal with Christ, we are carried upward to the highest summits of mystic thought. Had the book been written in a language better known than that of Bohemia, it would, I think, have ranked high among the works belonging to that school of thought. It would be interesting to examine to what extent Komensky was influenced by the writings of the German mystics, but limited space renders this impossible.

Though the "Labyrinth" is, to a certain extent, a philosophical work, and, to a certain extent, also a book of adventure, yet it must be considered as mainly a theological work. It could not be otherwise as regards a book written by Komensky, who called himself "hominem vocatione theologum," and who, in all his writings, even on other subjects, referred constantly to theological matters. Thus, in his "pansophic works," philosophy is still the handmaiden of theology, an idea that even in his days was already becoming obsolete.

If we consider at what time and under what circumstances the "Labyrinth" was written, we shall be surprised to find how little religious controversy and "odium theologicum" it contains. If we except a brief allusion to the cruelty with which the Church of Rome enforced its doctrine, there is in the book no attack even on that Church that was then cruelly persecuting the brethren. The more enlightened Catholics have not failed to recognise this. The learned Bohemian Jesuit Balbinus, wrote in his "Bohemia Docta": "Komensky wrote very many works, but none that were aimed at the Catholic Church. When reading his works, it has always appeared to me that he wrote with great prudence, as if he did not wish to show preference to any religious doctrine, nor condemn any." In the present century also the historian, Dr. Gindely, a writer of pronounced Catholic views, has declared that some of the works of Komensky are as those of a saint. That in spite of these enlightened judgments, both temporal and ecclesiastical authorities have several times attempted to suppress the "Labyrinth" has already been mentioned. The teaching of Komensky is that of the "Unity," which insisted mainly on a holy life, and advised the brethren to live secluded lives; to eschew as far as possible worldly honours; to obey, rather than to command; in short, to conform as closely as they could to the ways of the first disciples and followers of Christ. Leaving all doctrinal considerations aside, it cannot be denied that this was a lofty ideal.

On controversial matters, Komensky, in the "Labyrinth," is significantly silent. As Dr. von Criegern writes, even the questions of free will and predestination that divided the Lutherans and Calvinists, to which communities the brethren were closely related, though they belonged to neither, Komensky devoted little attention. There are, however, several passages in the last chapters of the "Labyrinth" (the "") that afford some evidence in favour of the author's belief in predestination. I have already referred to the mysticism of the "Labyrinth." The mystic conception of light is very prominent in the book, and is occasionally rather puzzling to the reader, as the word appears sometimes in its ordinary, sometimes in its allegorical, signification. The conception of Christ as "the centre of all things" is also common to many mystics, as is the great stress laid on various odours, as the reader will find in many passages of the "Labyrinth." M. Nordau would, no doubt, on the strength of this peculiarity, enrol Komensky among the "Entartete"; it is, however, true that mysticism itself is degeneracy, according to M. Nordau.

I have already written much on Komensky's life, but I think the readers of the "Labyrinth" will wish to find here a short account of the long and eventful life of its author. I shall do this as briefly as possible, except when dealing with Komensky's stay at Brandeis, where he wrote the "Labyrinth."

John Amos Komensky was born in 1592 at Uherský Brod, a small town in Moravia. He lost his parents when quite young, and received his earliest education at Uherský Brod, at the school that the brethren had established there. His family had long belonged to that community. Komensky's experiences at school were very painful. The almost inconceivable brutality of the teachers of that day, who looked down on corporal punishment not merely as a penalty for offences, but as a measure that was likely to stimulate the minds of the young to intellectual efforts, deeply impressed the high-strung nature of young Komensky. He has alluded to his school-days in the "Labyrinth" (.), and there is little doubt that the recollection of his early experiences influenced him when he endeavoured later in life to amend the educational system. After leaving Uherský Brod, Komensky spent some time at the school of the Unity at Prerov (Prerau), also in Moravia, and then proceeded to the Calvinist University at Herborn, in Nassau. That university, founded in the sixteenth century by Henry, Count of Nassau, was then one of the strongholds of the Calvinist creed. The brethren often sent their promising pupils who were to become clergymen to that university, rather to the then utrafuist University of Prague. It is certain that Komensky's views, particularly early in life, show traces of his Calvinistic training. From Herborn, Komensky proceeded to Heidelberg, then the residence of Frederick of the Palatinate, destined shortly afterwards to become the "winterking" of Bohemia. Though we have little positive information on the matter, he seems to have travelled extensively at this period, to have visited the Netherlands and Amsterdam, which was to be the refuge of his last years.