Labyrinths
are an important part of many cultural heritages and mythologies.
Unicursal labyrinths — a labyrinth which consists
of a path which twists and turns, but which has no dead
ends — can be found as rock paintings dating back
thousands of years, while the earliest coin found in the
world has on its face a labyrinth. Mazes also form a rich
part of our history (mazes differ from labyrinths in that
they do have dead ends; a person will get lost within a
maze but never within a labyrinth), and both have influenced
garden design and structure within western culture for at
least a thousand years. Many European countries have turf
and stone labyrinths cut into hillsides that are thousands
of years old, and even Shakespeare mentions that 'treading
the maze' was a well-established folk custom in England.
The
very idea of labyrinths and mazes incorporates a great deal
of symbolism. They offer the curious a means to become lost,
and then find oneself again. They suggest danger lurking
behind every twist and turn, and redemption for the true
and brave of heart. They represent blindness and light,
temptation and chaos, and satisfaction and serenity for
those who brave the perils of the unknown, and who win though.
During
the medieval period many churches incorporated unicursal
labyrinths into their floors — you can still see them
today in some of the larger and older cathedrals. A man
or woman's journey through the labyrinth represented his
or her journey through life towards, hopefully, redemption.
Sometimes people crawled through these labyrinths on their
knees, murmuring prayers, hoping to find at the heart of
the labyrinth a similar redemption as if they had gone on
a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. In fact, the cathedral floor
labyrinths offered a metaphorical pilgrimage into the heart
of Jerusalem, and its subsequent spiritual redemption, for
those who could not dare or afford the actual physical pilgrimage.
As
in cathedrals, so also in medieval gardens, although the
symbolism in secular gardens was not so high-minded as that
within the cathedrals. There has long been conjecture that
one of the most important ideas associated with labyrinths
is that of fertility (this somewhat allied with the idea
of spiritual rebirth that the Church promoted); the long
winding canal of the unicursal labyrinth, the emergence
from the dark heart into the light of day, clearly has connotations
with giving birth. May-pole dances reflect the labyrinth
and the unwinding into life and birth again — May
dances being not only danced versions of the labyrinth,
but also a spring rite.
It should be noted that many
ancient labyrinthine games were in fact dances,
whether danced on foot by lines of men and women,
or by youths on horseback - modern-day dressage
was founded three thousand years ago in the games
and sports of Aegean horsemen. This became known
as The Troy Game, and the dances had both fertility
and protective qualities to them. They were often
danced in order to secure protection for a city
and its peoples.
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During
the medieval period garden labyrinths became very much associated
with love — they were, after all, the perfect place
for secret dalliances. According to legend, Henry II built
a labyrinth in his garden at Woodstock to hide his mistress
Rosamund from his jealous wife, Eleanor of Acquitaine –
the original 'summerhouse of sin'. Legend only, for it cannot
be substantiated and, after all, a unicursal labyrinth is
not the most perfect of places to hide a mistress. In France
the garden labyrinths were known as Houses of Daedalus (after
the legendary figure who first constructed a labyrinth in
which to hide the Minotaur). Some of these labyrinths were
true garden hedge labyrinths, others buildings secreted
deep within a garden, still others curious twisting mazes
of tunnel arbors, some were three dimensional, incorporating
staircases leading to upper levels. Whatever shape or form
they took, these labyrinths of love were the perfect place
for forbidden dalliances.
Troy
and Jericho are both examples of cities which were
destroyed by 'unwinding their labyrinths'. In the
ancient Aegean cities were often protected by what
was called the Game of Troy — a protective
enchantment woven either by dancers on foot or by
men on horseback (Ariadne's 'thread' is the line
of the dance). Troy and Jericho had their protective
labyrinthine enchantments unwound by warriors circling
their walls and playing music to a set pattern.
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By
the sixteenth century hedge mazes and/or labyrinths were
features of many noble gardens, as also communal gardens.
Hedges could completely obscure the view, or they might
only be waist height, enabling people to see more clearly
where they were going, as also to display fine pieces of
statuary within the twisting paths. Garden mazes or labyrinths
were perfect for a garden – they enabled people to
mix socially (perhaps a little too much, sometimes!), to
have fun, to get some exercise, and to participate in nature.
Some of these maze gardens were enormous – in one
Italian example the most direct route to the heart of the
maze took two miles; if you became lost you travelled much
greater distances.
