"Then Falsehood nudged me at my other side, thus giving me notice that I also should stretch out my hand. I begged not to be obliged to take any one lot directly without first examining it, nor to intrust myself to blind fortune. But I was told that without the permission of the Lord Regent Fate this could not be. Then stepping up to him, I modestly brought forward my request, saying that I had arrived with the intention of seeing everything for myself, and only then choosing what pleased me." "He answered: 'My son, you see that others do not this, but what is given or offered them they take. However, as you desire this, it is well!' Then he wrote on a scrap of paper, 'Speculare,' that is to say, 'Look round you or inquire,' gave it to me and left me."

The pilgrim and his two companions now enter the city, and proceed first to the street of the married people. Here Komenský gives us what, for one who was married three times, and is not known to have been unhappy in marriage, seems an intensely gloomy and pessimistic view of married life. He dilates on the uncertainty of choice in marriage, on the trouble caused by children, on the disappointment felt by the childless, on all that is unlovely in love. The pilgrim then proceeds to the street of the tradesmen, and the many troubles, anxieties, and disappointments to which commerce is exposed are eloquently described. Komenský, in the later editions of the Labyrinth, here inserted a curious passage referring to his own sea-voyage, from which I can only quote a few lines. "The wind," he writes, "had meanwhile increased so rapidly that we were tossed about in a manner that horrified our hearts; the sea rolled round us in every direction with such gigantic waves that our course was, as it were, up high hills and down deep valleys, once upward and then again downward; sometimes we were shot upwards to such heights that it seemed as if we were to reach the moon, then again we descended as into a precipice.... This continued day and night, and any one can imagine what anguish and fear we felt. Then I said to myself, 'Surely these men (the sailors) must be more pious than all other men, they who never for an hour are sure of their lives;' but looking at them, I observed that they were all without exception eating gluttonously, as in a tavern, drinking, playing, laughing, talking in an obscene manner, in fact, committing every sort of evil deed and licentiousness."

The pilgrim next visits the scholars or learned men. Komenský, here quite in his element, passes judgment on many savants of his time, and gives his opinion on astronomy, history, natural history, poetry, and philosophy as they appeared to him in the writings of his contemporaries. His erudition, judged, of course, by the standard of his time, does not appear profound, but he sometimes, in few words, describes epigrammatically currents of thought that had importance in his day.

The chapters which deal with the priesthood are closely connected with those that tell us of the pilgrim's visit to the men of learning. As Komenský had, when describing the former, laid stress on the many follies of philosophers and the vanity of human learning, he now deals severely with the professed teachers of religious truth, noting their obstinacy, their want of erudition, their constant reciprocal animosities.

The pilgrim and his companions now proceed to the street of the rulers. Here, in accordance with the pessimistic note which characterises the book, we are told that all earthly authority is evil, but that if it did not exist, the condition of the world would be yet worse. We here find interesting allusions to contemporary events, the sudden appearance and downfall of King Frederick of Bohemia and the executions at Prague in 1621. Komenský lays stress on the uncertainty of royal power. He writes: "Then the royal throne (that of Ferdinand of Austria is meant) suddenly shook, broke into bits, and fell to the ground. Then I heard noise among the people, and looking round, I saw that they were leading in another prince and seating him on the throne, while they joyously exclaimed that things would now be different from what they were. They flatter the new prince and all who can strengthen the throne for him to sit on. I, thinking it right to act for the advantage of the general welfare, also contributed a nail or two to strengthen the throne; for this some praised me, while others looked at me with disapproval. But meanwhile the other prince recovered himself, and he and his men attacked us with cudgels, thrashing the whole crowd till they fled, and many even lost their necks." Komenský here alludes to some service which he had rendered to the government of King Frederick, of which nothing is otherwise known. He no doubt sympathised with that government and was on terms of acquaintance with administrators of the Utraquist Consistory of Prague. One of the administrators, Cyrillus, who assisted the president, Dicastus, at the coronation of King Frederick, was the father of Komenský's second wife, whom he married about the time when he wrote the Labyrinth.

After the rulers, the pilgrim visits the soldiers. Komenský here gives a very lifelike description of the brutal ways of the soldiery at the time of the Thirty Years' War. His battle-picture is also striking. "Then suddenly," he writes, "the drums beat, the trumpet resounds, noisy cries arise. Then, behold, all rise up, seize daggers, cutlasses, bayonets, or whatever they have, and strike unmercifully at one another till blood spirts out. They hack and hew at one another worse than the most savage animals. Then in every direction the cries increased; one could hear the tramping of horses, the clashing of armour, the clattering of swords, the growl of the artillery, the whistle of shots and bullets round our ears, the sound of trumpets, the crash of drums, the cries of those who urged on the soldiers, the shouting of the victors, the shrieking of the wounded and dying; an awful leaden hailstorm could be seen, fearful fiery thunder and lightning could be heard; now this, now that man's arm, head, leg, flew away; there one fell over another; everything swam in blood! 'Almighty God!' said I, 'what is happening? Must the whole world perish?'"

The pilgrim now tells his companions that he has everywhere found but vanity. They answer him by informing him that those who have laboured hard eventually find their way to the castle of Fortune, where happiness, honour, and pleasure await them. The pilgrim is now conducted to this castle, but here also finds nothing that attracts him. He reflects on the many cares that are the consequence of riches, the misery that ever threatens libertines, gamblers, and gluttons, the vanity of glory and of ancient lineage. The pilgrim's guides, uncertain what to do with him, now lead him to the castle of the goddess of Worldly Wisdom. They bring him before the goddess and thus accuse him: "Most serene queen of the world," they say, "most brilliant ray of God's light, magnificent Wisdom! The young man whom we bring before you has had the fortune to receive from Fate (the regent of your Majesty) the permission to view all the ranks and conditions in this kingdom of the world.... But he always complains to us of everything; everything displeases him; he is always striving for something that is unattainable. Therefore we cannot satisfy his wild cravings nor understand them, and we bring him before your serene grace, and leave it to your prudence to decide what is to be done with him."

The queen receives the pilgrim graciously and invites him to remain at her court. Shortly afterwards Solomon appears at the queen's court with the intention of wedding her. He is accompanied by a large crowd of courtiers, among whom are Socrates, Plato, Epictetus, Seneca, many Christians and Jews. In their presence the queen receives numerous deputations, all bringing petitions, beggars, philosophers, who are represented by Theophrastus and Aristotle, judges, lawyers, and others. At last the queen receives a deputation of women. They state that it would be fair that they and men should alternately have dominion. Some even say that they alone should rule, as their bodies are more agile and their minds quicker than those of men. As men for so many years have ruled women, it is, they say, time that women should take superior rank. A few years ago, they add, a noble example of this was given in the kingdom of England under the reign of Queen Elizabeth, for she decreed that all men should give their right hand to women, a worthy custom that still endured.

Solomon, who had hitherto listened attentively to the petitions and to the queen's answers, now suddenly exclaims, "Vanity of vanities, and everything is vanity." He then tears away the mask which the queen wore, and she appears as a hideous hag. Yet shortly afterwards Solomon is, by means of flattery, again won over to her side and conducted to the street of married people, where he is unable to resist the female attractions that offer themselves to him. Fearful calamities are the consequence of Solomon's weakness, and the pilgrim despairingly exclaims, "Oh, that I had never been born, never passed through the gate of life! for after having surveyed all the vanities of the world, nothing but darkness and horror are my part. O God, God! If thou art a God, have mercy on wretched me!" The pilgrim, whom his companions have meanwhile abandoned, now hears a voice from on high which exclaims, "Return whence thou camest into the house of thy heart, and then close the doors." The voice is that of Christ, who appears to the pilgrim and instructs him in true religion; the teaching, needless to say, is strictly in accordance with the doctrine of the Unity. The pilgrim is then received into heaven, and the last chapter consists in a prayer to Christ, ending with the Latin words, Gloria in excelsis Deo et in terra pax hominibus bonæ voluntatis.

It is impossible to render justice to the Labyrinth in a few pages, and no book lends itself less to quotation. Komenský, who is generally diffuse and addicted to repetition, has here given us an enormous amount of thought and experience in a very small volume.