A Labyrinth—Then and Now

I had never heard of this “Labyrinth,” a joint collaboration between the Brunswick-Topsham Land Trust and the First Parish Church of Brunswick. According to newspaper accounts, it opened to the public in 2015. Finding it did prove a bit difficult. Online directions were sketchy at best. So, with a trusty paper map and GPS, we set off. After a few wrong turns and several stops to ask for help, we saw a tiny parking area at the end of the road a passerby had said to take. Still no signs! It was a person walking by who told us we were on the right path. As we navigated a narrow trail into the woods, we saw a sign:

LABYRINTH IN THE WOODS

The ancient practice of walking a labyrinth has been known to nearly all cultures and religions around the globe. A labyrinth is not a maze. Mazes have dead ends and are designed to confuse. Labyrinths offer a single path whose course winds back and forth within the bounds of a circle, ultimately leading to the center.

We felt like clapping! We were close, and, then, there it was. Our first glimpse startled us. “Why?” I cannot say. Perhaps because the recent dusting of snow had etched a path to the center and seemed to invite us “to enter.” As we did so, my “classical mind” drifted back in time to the labyrinth King Minos had built on Crete millennia ago. “A good blog topic,” I remember thinking and filed the thought in my mind’s “Revisit Compartment.”

So, with the snow swirling outside and the Labyrinth in the Woods in my mind, I revisited one of ancient Greece’s beloved myths…

“What can I do? What should I do? He’s a monster! We cannot let him out of the palace!” King Minos of Crete was desperate. He knew he had defied the gods, but the punishment they decreed could topple his kingdom. The child his wife had just delivered was a monster! He, or perhaps better “it,” had a human body and a bull’s head. Worse, he was growing by the minute. “I need a plan!” thought Minos.

Minos turned to his attendants: “Bring me the master builder Daedalus—now!” His staff ran, and, within hours, Daedalus stood before the king. “My lord…”

“You must build me a gigantic pen, one from which escape will be impossible! Tell me what you need, and I will have all brought to you.” Daedalus had many questions, but he knew he could not refuse. Should he dare to do so, Minos would have him and his young son, Icarus, imprisoned for life.

Minos knew exactly where he wanted this structure: an area deep within the bowels of his massive palace at Knossos (photo here shows an excavated area).

Daedalus did a quick survey of the site and then drafted a plan—a maze with so many twists and turns that even Daedalus had a difficult time extricating himself from the mock-up. Once the complex was ready, Minos’ guards managed to harness the Minotaur (the name given to the fearsome monster) and lock him in the “prison.” Daedalus sighed with relief. He had completed his task, confident that anyone who dared enter would never leave. What he did not know was Minos’ ulterior motive. He had not told Daedalus his plan to use the labyrinth to avenge the death of his son Androgeus. Exactly how the young man died is unclear but, because the tragic event happened in Athens, Minos blamed the Athenians.

“Prepare our fleet! We sail for Athens! Now!“ Minos bellowed. He then sent an envoy to Aegeus, king of Athens, to deliver an ultimatum: “If you wish to remain free, every seven years [ancient accounts differ on the year count], send me your seven fairest maidens and your seven strongest young men. Should you fail to do so, I will order my troops to take control of your city!” Aegeus had no choice but to agree. Athens was no match for Crete’s troops. It was not yet the great city it would become.

Fourteen years later, as the Athenians were choosing the third set of 14 martyrs, Aegeus’ son Theseus approached his father. “I will be one of the seven young men this time!” Aegeus knew he could not dissuade his strong-willed son. “May the gods be with you, my son! Promise me that, if you succeed in killing the Minotaur, you will sail home with white sails hoisted. Should you fail, leave orders with the boat captain that he is to return to port with black sails hoisted.” “You will see white sails entering this port, father!”

Just a few days later, Theseus and his 13 compatriots disembarked in Crete. Theseus did a quick “look-around.”

“Aha, that beautiful girl must be Aegeus’s daughter, Ariadne. She is looking at me. Could it be that she pities us and wants to help?” Ariadne had watched as the Athenians walked by and was totally taken with Theseus. That night, she bribed her father’s jailer to let her visit the “foreigners.” But, before she did so, she went to see Daedalus. There had to be a way out of the labyrinth, and she knew he would know it.

Hours later, Theseus was smiling! Ariadne had visited him in the prison where the 14 were being held. She had given him a ball of string, with Daedalus’ instructions to use the string to mark the path he took into the labyrinth. Once he had killed the Minotaur, she said, he could use the string to retrace his steps! Sounds fantastical, and it was—but it worked!

Within hours Theseus was free—and so were his fellow Athenians. But there was no time to rejoice! Minos was sure to send his troops in pursuit. Ariadne knew her father well and had ordered a ship to be supplied for a journey and await her at the dock. Once all were aboard, they cast off and sailed for Athens!

Unfortunately, this tale does not end well for Ariadne or for Daedalus. Minos, knowing that it must have been Daedalus who told Ariadne the secret of the string, imprisoned the builder and his son (but that’s another myth – see my earlier blog entry titled Let’s Fly!).

The wind gods, meanwhile, were blowing Ariadne’s ship north toward Athens. But, as it neared the island of Naxos, Theseus suddenly turned to the pilot and ordered him to pull in to port. Why? For supplies may be what Theseus told the crew, but, once docked, he ordered all to remain on the ship and asked Ariadne to take a walk with him. What exactly happened, no one knows—it’s a myth, remember and the details have changed through the centuries. All accounts do agree on one detail, however: Theseus abandoned Ariadne there. No worries, the myth continues, saying that the god Dionysus saw Ariadne weeping by the shore and wed her himself!

Theseus now had only one thought: “I survived, I am going home!” For him, Ariadne, Minos, the Minotaur, even Crete were all in the past. Ahead of him, figuratively and literally, was Athens! In his excitement at seeing his beloved homeland he forgot to change the black sail to white. Aegeus had been going to the cliff each day to watch the horizon for the returning ship. Sorrow overwhelmed him as the black sail approached. Thinking his son had perished, Aegeus threw himself from the cliff and died in the waters below. In his memory, the Greeks named this grand waterway the Aegean Sea!

To be sure, joy and sorrow mingled at the homecoming, but the joy outweighed the sorrow and, to this day, Theseus is honored as the national hero of Athens.

So it is in Maine that a site as simple as the Labyrinth in the Woods can “link” us to our fellow humans near and far, past and present.

AN END NOTE: Ever wonder if the ancients did graffiti? Well, they did and here’s an example. This simple drawing of Daedalus’s labyrinth was uncovered scratched on a stone wall in Pompeii, the Roman seaside town that was buried during the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 A.D. The Latin phrase Labyrinthus hic habitat translates: “The Labyrinth lives here.” This drawing offers proof of the popularity of the Minotaur’s tale through time.

Join us next time when Maine—Window to World trains its lens on another part of the world. Comments are welcome: rosalie@ivycloseimages.com