A History of Bohemian Literature

by hrabe Francis Lützow

It must be sufficient to note the enormous influence Drabik acquired over Komenský; to account for it is impossible, unless we assume that much suffering and disappointment had weakened his intellect. This is, however, disproved by the fact that the educational works which Komenský continued to write nearly to the end of his life show little trace of waning mental power. It must be taken into account, also, that visions and prophecies found very general belief in those days. Mr. Keatinge, in his interesting book to which I have already referred, mentions several instances of learned Englishmen who had read the prophecies of Drabik (or Drabicius, as he was called in England), and fully believed in them. Bayle also writes that when, in 1683, the news that the Turks were besieging Vienna reached Paris, the name of the prophet Drabik was in every mouth. Drabik at last came to an evil end. A few months (fortunately) after Komenský's death, Drabik was arrested as a swindler and conspirator. He confessed his impostures and was executed, though he had accepted the creed of Rome in the hope of saving his life.

Komenský's activity as a teacher while at Saros Patak was indefatigable. He attempted to improve and reorganise the "gymnasium" of the town, and also wrote several new educational works during his stay in Hungary. He encountered, however, many obstacles; the local teachers were opposed to him, and reproached him with his intimacy with Drabik; linguistic difficulties also arose. If Komenský yet remained four years in Hungary, it was mainly for political purposes. He still hoped to contribute to the formation of a Protestant League which would drive the Austrians out of Bohemia, and thus enable the brethren to return to their beloved country. Komenský now hoped for aid from England, since Cromwell was famed all over the Continent as the protector of persecuted Protestants. After the death of Sigismund Rakoczy, Komenský actually succeeded in inducing his brother and successor, George II., to endeavour to negotiate an alliance with England and Sweden against Austria. When the Transylvanian embassy started for London, it was instructed to pass by Lissa to consult with Komenský, who had already returned to Poland. His knowledge of English affairs would, it was thought, prove useful, and it is probable that the state paper which the ambassadors presented to Cromwell was from the pen of Komenský. Komenský, indeed, always seems to have continued to communicate with his English friends. As late as in 1658, Cromwell and Thurloe, no doubt through the intermediation of Hartlib, suggested that the Bohemian Brethren, together with the Vaudois or Waldenses, whom the Duke of Savoy was then persecuting, should be established in Ireland. Lands formerly belonging to Roman Catholics were to have been given to them, and it was thought that the Protestant element in Ireland would thus be strengthened. Komenský, perhaps injudiciously, declined the proposal. He stated, either in consequence of his own conviction or because of his belief in the wretched Drabik's prophecies, that the brethren would shortly return to their own country, and therefore could not travel to distant lands.

In 1654 Komenský returned to Lissa, but his stay there was now short and troubled. War between Sweden and Poland broke out in the following year, and the victorious Swedes occupied Lissa in August 1655. The only policy for the homeless community of the brethren evidently was to remain neutral in these alien quarrels. Unfortunately, Komenský employed his ever-ready pen in composing a panegyric on Charles Gustavus, the victorious Swedish king. In the following year the town of Lissa was retaken by the Polish army, pillaged, and burnt down. Komenský's library and his MS. were again destroyed. The brethren, perhaps not without reason, accused Komenský of having, through his injudicious writings, caused the downfall of the community of Lissa, to which the Poles had never been hostile before.

Komenský, now sixty-five years old, was again homeless, and he was at first uncertain where he should seek refuge. He proceeded to Hamburg, but there received an invitation to Amsterdam from Lawrence De Geers, the son of his old patron Louis De Geers. Komenský started for Amsterdam, and here spent the latest years of his life. His literary activity continued to the last. He published at Amsterdam the only complete edition of his educational works, and even wrote new "pansophic" books. Differing on this point from his father, Lawrence De Geers took great interest in these studies, and even in the writings of the "prophets," in whom Komenský obstinately continued to believe. De Geers was foolish enough to invite Drabik to Amsterdam, and it was through his financial aid that Komenský was enabled to publish in 1657 his Lux in Tenebris, a book in which all the prophecies of Kotter, Ponatovská, and Drabik were again brought before the public.

The mystic and now openly professed chiliastic views of Komenský involved him during the last years of his life in numerous theological controversies. Detailed accounts of them have recently been published in Bohemian, perhaps rather because everything concerned with Komenský is valued by his countrymen than because these controversies now have much interest. Among Komenský's theological antagonists were Nicholas Arnold, Daniel Zwicker, and Samuel Des Marets, a professor at Gröningen. The last-named attacked the aged bishop of the Unity with great violence, calling him "a fanatic, a visionary, and an enthusiast in folio." He also accused him of obtaining large sums from the De Geers family by means of "pansophic hope and chiliastic smoke." A polemical essay directed against Descartes also belongs to Komenský's last years. These years were very melancholy, though the old man, characteristically enough, found great relief in the society of an aged French prophetess and visionist named Antoinette Bourgignon. His old comrades died off one by one. Of the bishops of the community, Gertichius died in 1667, and Figulus (Komenský's son-in-law) in January 1670. In the same year, on November 15th, Komenský, the last bishop of the Bohemian Brethren, ended his long and troubled life.

It would require a book larger than the whole of this volume to give even a slight account of the 142 works[109] of Komenský. Such a book would hardly have much general interest. The enormous total includes prayer-books, lists of regulations for the Unity, mere school-books, sermons, works on natural history that long since have become valueless, and so on. These lists, however, which include only books that are still in existence, do not comprise the entire fruits of the literary activity of Komenský. Several "pansophic" works that are enumerated in a table of contents, to which I have already referred, are no longer in existence, and were probably destroyed when the town of Lissa was burnt down.

While at Fulneck, Komenský was already busy writing works on grammar as well as a Bohemian translation of the Psalms. The melancholy events of the year 1621, when he lost his wife and his home at Fulneck and began his many wanderings, inspired him to write several religious books, all bearing witness to the deep depression of the author. Such works are the Help for the Soul, The Impregnable Castle, which is the Name of the Lord, The Dismal Complaint of a Christian, The Centre of Security, and others. All these writings are in Bohemian, as also is the far better known Labyrinth, which Komenský wrote at Brandeis-on-the-Adler shortly after his arrival there, and dedicated to his patron, Lord Charles of Žerotin. The Labyrinth of the World, perhaps one of the best allegorical narratives that has ever been written, professes the same pessimism, combined with a fervent belief in the revelations of the Christian faith, which can be found in the other works also which I have just mentioned. The Labyrinth from its first appearance obtained an immense popularity with the Bohemian people,[110] to which I have already referred. Since the Bohemians have again been able to read freely the records of their ancient literature, the Labyrinth has regained its former popularity, as is proved by the numerous recently published editions.

The Labyrinth of the World, written in Komenský's youth, is, from a literary point of view, undoubtedly his greatest achievement. Rarely perhaps has the vanity of all worldly matters, the hopelessness of men's struggles, the inevitable disappointment which is the result of even the most successful ambition, been more clearly expounded than in this small and unknown work. Were we not constantly reminded that we are reading the book of a devout Christian and member of the Unity, we should fancy that we were reading the work of a forerunner of Schopenhauer. Komenský's Labyrinth, in fact, reeks with pessimism, though his admirable religious faith and piety enabled him to give a supernatural and consolatory ending to his book. Happiness, unattainable here, is to be found elsewhere.

The little book is well worth being translated into English, and I hope some day to attempt that task.[111] It will here only be possible to give an outline of the tale and a few quotations. Komenský tells us of the adventures of a young man who, "when arrived at that age when the human mind begins to understand the difference between good and evil, sees how various are men's stations and ranks, their vocations, and the works and undertakings which occupy them." He then meditates as to "what group of men he should join, and with what subjects he should occupy his life." The youth then starts on his wanderings, having accepted "Impudence" and "Falsehood" as his guides. They conduct him to the summit of a high tower. He now beholds a city which appeared to him "beautiful, splendid, and broad, with countless streets, squares, houses, smaller and larger buildings, all swarming with people." The six principal streets, his companions tell him, are inhabited respectively by married people, tradesmen, scholars, priests, rulers, and soldiers. To the west of the city he is shown the "Castle of Fortune." In the middle of the city is a vast square, in the centre of which is the residence of the "Queen of Wisdom." The pilgrim is then shown two gates: the first, that of life, through which all must pass; the second, that of separation. Before entering this gate, all must draw lots and accept a career in the world in accordance with the lot they have drawn. They arrive at the gates of separation, and then the pilgrim, or rather Komenský, tells us: "We went downward by a dark winding staircase, and before the door there was a wide hall full of young people, and on the right side there sat a fierce-looking old man, holding in his hand a large copper jar. And I saw that all those who came from the gate of life stepped up to him, and each one put his hand into the jar and drew from it a scrap of paper on which something was written. Then each of them went down one of the streets, some running and shouting from joy, while others crept along slowly, looked around them, groaned and lamented.

"I also then came nearer, looked at some of the scraps of paper, and noticed that one contained the word 'Rule!' another 'Serve!' another 'Command!' another 'Write!' another 'Plough!' another 'Learn!' another 'Dig!' another 'Judge!' yet another 'Fight!' and so forth. Impudence said to me: 'Here vocations and work are distributed, and according to this distribution every one has to fulfil his task in the world. He who distributes the lots is called Fate, and from him in this fashion every one who enters the world must receive his instructions.'