Labyrinth

In the old story of the labyrinth at Crete, the Minotaur dwelling there devoured in his day innumerable youths and maidens. He was slain finally by the hero Theseus. The story goes that Theseus escaped both monster and death in the blind alleys of the labyrinth only because Ariadne was wise enough to furnish egress by means of her slender silken thread.

There is a modern story of a labyrinth, differing from the old tale in that it has as yet no termination, no hero who has slain the Minotaur, no thread to guide those who enter its confusion of passages out to any clear safety beyond its winding darkness. This modern story differs from the old legend in other ways. The monster lurking in this labyrinth seems to many who hear the tale merely a phantom. His bellowings are soft and gentle, he writhes in so sentimental a fashion that he can scarcely be taken as a monster, and since he leaves his victims with their bones unbroken and their flesh unscarred, who is to say that he has devoured them? They themselves may deny their fate. And in that lies a final likeness to the old story. Until Theseus and Ariadne had between them destroyed the Minotaur, people had thought him an inevitable pest, and had looked upon the destruction he wrought as legitimate. Perhaps some of the youth were tragic about their fate, but after all, a monster and a labyrinth possess dignity and provoke indifference merely by their continued existence.

Ariadne alone might not have slain the monster. She might have traveled through the passageways, her silken thread between her fingers, and perished herself without some aid from Theseus.

Here is the modern story of the labyrinth.