chapter

THE GOLDEN TOUCH

Cast

Midas Foolish king

Plautus Slave to Midas

Silenus Drunken old satyr

Donkey His donkey

Dionysus God of Wine

Apollo God of Music, Light

Pan Satyr, God of Shepherds

Voice Female voice

NARRATOR: There once lived a very rich and very foolish king in Phrygia named Midas. He spent his days hatching ridiculous schemes to make himself even richer than he already was. For most of these schemes, he enlisted the help of his infinitely intelligent and mostly faithful slave, Plautus.

PLAUTUS: Master, why do you want more money? You have a humongous palace, a 200-acre rose garden, and more fountains than you can shake a stick at.

MIDAS: Yes, but there are kings out there who have bigger palaces, bigger rose gardens, and more fountains than you can shake an even bigger stick at.

PLAUTUS: (sigh) I heard a new philosophy about wealth just the other day: Apparently, you have to spend money to make money.

MIDAS: Ha! That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You might as well say, “It’s better to give than receive."

MIDAS: Think of the richest kings in Greece. What do they have that I don’t have?

MIDAS: No, you fool! All of the greatest kings have been descended from the gods! All I need to do is prove I’m a descendant of the gods.

PLAUTUS: Forget it! Don’t you remember that rumor going around about your mother?

PLAUTUS: More fuzz than you have, but, no, Your Thickness—the rumor you tried to start.

MIDAS: It wasn’t so far-fetched. Lots of kings are descendants of goddesses.

PLAUTUS: Not from Athena, they aren’t. Maybe if you hadn’t claimed the Almighty Virgin Goddess as your mother, more people would have believed you.

PLAUTUS: Too good looking. Not believable. How about Hephaestus? (pause) But, you know, the trick isn’t to fool your subjects. You’d have to trick the gods into believing they had accidentally sired you before they would start heaping divine favor on you.

PLAUTUS: Wouldn’t try it, master. Remember my former master, Tantalus? He thought he’d get in good with the gods if he murdered his own children and served them up as a stew.

MIDAS: Brilliant! Why didn’t think of that? If only I had children. (thinking) I wonder if I could buy some . . .

PLAUTUS: Bad communication. He asked me what the gods liked to eat, and I told him nectar. He thought I said Nestor. So then he figured if they liked to chew on an old guy like Nestor, they’d really go for some young, juicy flesh.

NARRATOR: The conversation between master and slave was interrupted by a commotion: loud, drunken singing accompanied by even worse lyre playing.

SILENUS: (offstage, drunken singing) Take it down and pass it around . . .

PLAUTUS: I hope it isn’t Orpheus again. I was depressed for weeks after his last visit.

NARRATOR: They rushed out into the garden to investigate. What they saw there astonished them: A fat, white-bearded goat-man had capsized in the closest bed of roses. His tiny hooves waved helplessly in the air as he continued his singing and playing.

SILENUS: (drunkenly) Forty-two skins of wine in the hall, forty-two skins of wine—

NARRATOR: The second party, a flea-bitten donkey, was making the most of the situation by biting the heads off the nearby roses.

MIDAS: Plautus, get that donkey out of my flowerbeds! I hate donkeys! They look so buck-toothed and stupid! Shoo! Shoo!

PLAUTUS: Yes! I knew I’d seen him before! He’s right here in Who’s Who of Olympus.

PLAUTUS: Satyr. And he’s not a god. His name is Silenus. (reading) Often seen riding his donkey from one festivity to another when he is too drunk to walk. Interests: wine, drinking—drinking is underlined. Looks like he’s the tutor and foster father of one of the gods—let me see here—Dionysus!

MIDAS: (trying to remember) Dionysus. Dionysus. Is he the one with the limp?

PLAUTUS: No, the god of wine. He’s new. The Greeks just invented him a few months ago.

MIDAS: God of wine, eh? Not the best god to forge a connection with, but oh well. (yelling) Mr. Solaris!

MIDAS: You are in the gardens of Midas, my friend. Those are also my roses, too, that you’re making quite a mess of.

MIDAS: (loudly) I am King Midas. We’d like to offer you—and your nasty donkey—some food and shelter.

SILENUS: No thank you! I am lost! I went to a party, and I was supposed to be back by July. It isn’t July, is it?

MIDAS: We will help you get home. Come along, my inebriated friend! Can we offer you some food—or maybe something to drink?

MIDAS: (to Plautus) Get that donkey out of my garden before it makes a real mess.

NARRATOR: Once the old satyr and his donkey were seated at the royal table partaking of even more wine, Plautus whispered to his master.

PLAUTUS: This may work to our advantage. If Silenus is lost, there might be some reward for finding him.

MIDAS: Don’t be stupid. Who would pay money to find an old, liver-damaged goat-man?

MIDAS: Do I ever! I couldn’t get those sappy songs out of my head for weeks.

MIDAS: Weren’t they all about death and despair and despairing over death?

PLAUTUS: Mainly. But there was one—a chant for summoning Dionysus. Orpheus was one of Dionysus’ converts, you know. Let’s see if I can remember it.

MIDAS: (chanting) Ivy-wreathed god of ripest grape God of curly hair and shaven nape Shrouded in thy purple cape Now appear to me a humble ape (speaking) I don’t care for that last line—

NARRATOR: A rumbling shook the palace. The large, decorative wine bowl in the midst of the table began to vibrate, and a godly head and torso emerged from the dark liquid within. Full clusters of grapes hung from the wine-god’s temples.

DIONYSUS: Silenus! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. When did you wander off?

SILENUS: I’m not surely right, meboy. Around March, I think. Has the party died down yet? These folks here found me and offered me hospit—they offered me hospit—they offered me food and drink. But I only took them up on the drink. (drunken laugh)

MIDAS: It’s true, your most holiness. I am Midas—a kind, but poor, king.

DIONYSUS: Poor? Are you kidding? Look at this table. And this pillared hall. Not to mention this gilded wine bowl I’m currently swimming in.

MIDAS: Well, yes. I admit this hall is nice, but the rest of my home is very meager indeed. I’m a poor country king.

NARRATOR: The god dipped his finger into the wine that surrounded him and tasted it.

MIDAS: It was a gift! Usually we drink plain old water here and eat . . . um . . . sand.

DIONYSUS: Ha! I knew it. I assume, Midas, that you are fishing for some kind of reward.

MIDAS: Heh. Heh. I would hate to ask for one, but I have so many children, so many mouths to feed, and my wife is in poor health.

DIONYSUS: (sigh) Very well. Even though you’re the biggest buffoon I’ve ever met, and I sincerely doubt you have any true financial need, I am grateful that you have found my old schoolmaster here. So I will grant you one wish.

DIONYSUS: Interesting. All right, Midas. You have made your one and only wish. (chanting)

NARRATOR: The god reached out and grabbed the old satyr and his donkey by the scruff and pulled them back into the wine bowl after him.

PLAUTUS: What a waste! Of all the stupid wishes you could have made, why did it have to be that one?

NARRATOR: But Midas did not hear his slave. He was staring in wonder at his hand, which had now taken on a golden sheen.

MIDAS: Don’t you know what this means? I have can have all the gold—all the gold I desire! Imagine it! Golden floors! Golden walls! Golden everything!

NARRATOR: The king laid his hand upon the table, and it instantly transformed into gold.

PLAUTUS: (sarcastically) Yeah, fantastic, but you’re not the one who has to move it.

NARRATOR: He ran from object to object in the palace, touching it gleefully like a child. He whooped when each item assumed a golden shine. Plautus followed him about the palace, shaking his head in disbelief.

MIDAS: Don’t be stupid! I can’t think about food right now. There’s so much gold to make!

PLAUTUS: But you’ll want to keep your strength up. It’s going to be a long night of gold-making!

MIDAS: Oh, fine. What a dumb kill-joy you are, Plautus. Can’t you let an old king have a bit of fun?

NARRATOR: He jauntily pulled a chair up to the feast, grabbed an apple from the spread, and sank his teeth into it—or tried to.

NARRATOR: Midas picked his tooth up from the table from where it had fallen and tenderly reinserted it into his gums.

NARRATOR: He flashed Plautus a smile. A golden tooth gleamed out amid the others.

MIDAS: There’s no problem at all. I don’t need to feed myself anyway. You can feed me.

NARRATOR: Plautus tipped the cup to the king’s lips. No sooner had the king taken a swallow, then he fell from his chair and rolled about on the floor, grasping his throat in pain.

NARRATOR: Plautus looked down at the wine still left it in the cup. It was still liquid—yet gold in color and steaming.

NARRATOR: Several excruciating hours later, the molten gold had finally passed through the king’s system.

MIDAS: This is all your fault, Plautus! You should have stopped me from making such a foolish wish!

PLAUTUS: Look at it this way: Who else can say that they have a golden kidney stone?

PLAUTUS: Apparently, only the same god can remove a curse once it has been given.

PLAUTUS: Then I suggest not picking your nose—or anything else for that matter.

NARRATOR: In a panic, Midas clamored up onto the table and peered down into the wine bowl.

VOICE: We’re sorry. Your plea for assistance is very important to us, but Dionysus is not available right now. If you would like to leave a message—

PLAUTUS: No, no! The last line! What was it? I remember! The waters of swift Pactolus may undo it yet.

MIDAS: Patroclus! Of course! The beloved friend of Achilles. But he’s dead, isn’t he? And what waters would he have, anyway?

PLAUTUS: Not Patroclus! Pactolus! It’s a river. Don’t they teach you kings geography? Maybe if you wash yourself in that river, you will lose the Golden Touch.

MIDAS: Maybe I could just have it on weekends. It’s really actually useful at times.

NARRATOR: So king and slave made preparation to journey upland to the River Pactolus. After mounting two different donkeys, which both immediately turned to gold, Midas decided that the best solution was to walk to the River Pactolus. The king and his slave made the journey easily on foot—leaving a trail of golden grass in their wake.

MIDAS: I wish I’d never met Diomedes and that stupid old goat-man. I wish I’d made a better wish.

PLAUTUS: There’s the river, master. Wash in there, and we’ll see if my theory is right.

MIDAS: Life’s funny, you know. One minute you have the Golden Touch. The next minute you don’t.

NARRATOR: Midas plunged his hand into the water, which began to bubble and foam around it. When he removed his hand, the bottom of the river was shining: the rocks below had all been turned to gold.

NARRATOR: Midas touched his hand to the grass. Nothing. It stayed grass—regular green grass.

MIDAS: (laughing) Who knew that the sight of plain old grass could make a man so happy?

PLAUTUS: (philosophically) Perhaps, master, this will teach you a lesson: The wealth of the world is not in gold. It’s in nature—the beauty that the gods have created—the trees, the rivers, the sky.

MIDAS: (pausing to think) No. It’s pretty much gold. But thanks for trying to make me feel better.

NARRATOR: As soon as they turned to go, a sudden burst of pipe-playing erupted from a stand of nearby trees.

PLAUTUS: No. I don’t think so. This music sounds good. Perhaps we should investigate.

MIDAS: Hmph. Just because you’ve cured me of my curse doesn’t mean you’re making all the decisions now. I’m still the master, and you’re the slave.

NARRATOR: The king and his slave walked toward the sound of the magnificent pipe-playing. In the midst of the stand of trees, there was a satyr playing his reed pipes, and seated directly across was the golden form of a god.

MIDAS: Oh, celebrities! Which one’s Apollo—the pretty boy or the goat man? (loudly) Yoo-hoo! Hello, immortals. It’s me—King Midas. Perhaps you’ve heard of me? The Midas Touch?

APOLLO: (sarcastically) An archery contest. What does it look like? A pipe-playing contest, you moron.

APOLLO: No, fool. We want you to be the judge. Now sit down and shut up while we play.

MIDAS: (whispering) Well, that Apollo certainly is full of himself, isn’t he? Pretty rude if you ask me. I have half a mind to choose the goat-legged fellow.

PLAUTUS: Master, you would have half a mind if you did that. Apollo would be furious.

PLAUTUS: I’ve heard stories of his anger. He’s pretty trigger-happy with his bow and arrows.

MIDAS: I’m not afraid of him. Besides, goat-breath is doing much better anyhow.

MIDAS: Exactly. He needs to be brought down a peg or two. (loudly) Ahem! Gentlemen, please. There is no need to play any longer. I have made my decision.

APOLLO: (angrily) What? You can’t be serious! You choose this mangy little goat-man over me?

NARRATOR: The fiery anger of Apollo blazed forth and the clearing flashed with light.

APOLLO: There! Now all the world will know what a complete donkey-brain you are!

MIDAS: Zeus Almighty, you were right about his fiery temper. But I’m alive! He didn’t strike me down or anything!

NARRATOR: The slave sadly guided Midas’ hands up to either side of his head. Two long, bristly ears had sprouted there.

NARRATOR: Midas covered his mouth in shock. Pan approached the king apologetically.

PAN: Tough break, Midas. Look on the bright side. It’s not the end of the world. I’m a little goat man, and even I can still scare up a date or two on the weekends.

MIDAS: We’ve got to hide this somehow. I’ll be the laughingstock of the whole kingdom. Maybe if I wear a very tall hat. What do you think?

MIDAS: Perfect. Then no one will ever know—except you, and you’ll never tell a living soul.

MIDAS: Because you love your kindly old master? Who has never beaten you unless it was for a really good reason?

PLAUTUS: Ha! Give me my freedom. Then I swear I will never tell another living soul.

MIDAS: Your freedom? But Plautus! What would I do? You know I can’t function without you!

PLAUTUS: I didn’t say I was leaving. You can put me on your staff—complete with a salary and everything.

MIDAS: (shocked) A salary! Why you . . . (pause) All right. You’ll have your precious freedom.

PLAUTUS: Excellent. Now if you’ll excuse me, before we head back, I’d like to have one more look at that golden river.

NARRATOR: As he walked to the river, Plautus had to cover his mouth to suppress his laughter. His foolish master now had the ears of a donkey. How could he keep a piece of juicy gossip like this secret forever? But he would have to: His freedom depended on it. He reached the edge of the river and knelt down on its banks. He made a little hole in the Earth there and leaned his lips down to it. Into that hole he whispered the whole story—every last bit. He ended with the best part.

NARRATOR: After he had fed these words into the hole, he covered them over with dirt, stood, and returned to where Midas waited.

PLAUTUS: Back to Phrygia! First thing’s first: We need to see a hatter. Otherwise, you’ll look completely asinine.

NARRATOR: Plautus never told another living soul the story of his former master. Yet from the hole he had dug on the banks of the River Pactolus, there grew a cluster of reeds, and whenever the wind blew through their stems, they whispered his words. Those who journeyed to see the river with the golden bottom heard this story carried in the night air, and through this, Midas at last gained his long-desired fame—as the most foolish of kings.

DISCUSS

In this type of story, where a wish is granted by a supernatural force, the wish rarely has the desired result. Why do you think this is so? What are these stories trying to say about wishing for things?
The slave Plautus is not part of the original Midas story. What does he add to the narrative? Explain.

ANALYZE

Read the story “The Monkey’s Paw," which involves three wishes. Compare its events with the events in the myth of Midas. Even though the tones of the stories may vary, are the themes the same?

FUN FACT

The transfer of Midas’ gift from himself to the River Pactolus helped explain why the actual river, located in modern Turkey, contains high amounts of precious mineral deposits.

There would be several good candidates if the myth of Midas needed a tidy moral tacked onto its ending. (A moral is a lesson that the reader is supposed to learn from the story.) The moral, “The best things in life are free" immediately comes to mind. There are some things that money simply cannot buy, and Midas learns this lesson the hard way. When a person is deprived of food and water—the very necessities of life—wealth means nothing. In a different variation of the myth, Midas accidentally transforms his young daughter—the light of his life—into a golden statue. After this incident the king sees clearly that the love of his daughter was a treasure that cost nothing. This also symbolizes the way in which wealth often damages personal and family relationships instead of improving them.

“Money can’t buy happiness." After Dionysus grants his wish, Midas discovers that his imagined happiness is everything but. When deprived of the things that money cannot buy, wealth loses its meaning. It may be a depressing thought, but even money cannot save a person from pain, suffering, and eventually death. In yet another version of the Midas myth, rather than finding a way to rid himself of the Golden Touch, Midas instead commits suicide. This shows us the lonely and depressing side of riches and celebrity. There is a reason that millionaires and celebrities—people who seem to have it all—still take their own lives or retreat into a drug-induced haze. Although millions of people want to be them, they still feel alone.

“The love of money is the root of all evil." (This quote from the New Testament is often misquoted as simply, “Money is the root of all evil.") Midas also learns that greed, often defined as the love of money, only brings him evil results. Although he is slow to learn from his mistakes, an unselfish, generous act—the freeing of his slave, Plautus—brings good from his actions. In life, many people believe that money will solve problems. They picture and plan how their lives would be improved if they received a large inheritance or won the lottery. But it is also important to remember that many times a great amount of money causes more problems than it solves. It is estimated that one-third of lottery winners go bankrupt a few short years after collecting their winnings. Many regret winning the lottery at all—as it separated them from their family and friends.

“Too much of a good thing can be bad." With all of this depressing talk about the dangers of money, it should be said that money is not always bad. It puts a roof over your head and food on the table. It provides comfort and security. It is the goal of many young people to grow up to earn a good salary, so that they can live their lives comfortably and securely. Yet some people forget that money is a means to an end and focus their ambitions on the money itself—not the good things that can be bought with it. The problem with this is that very few people actually have enough money. Money is something that you always need more of. Not that you cannot buy what you need, not that you do not have enough already, but there is always more to be had—bigger things, more expensive things. Focusing on money makes you forget the things you wanted it for in the first place.

In his myth, Midas experiences these lessons (and a few more). Although this version of the myth is told for laughs, it could have been a tragedy. As you begin your own adulthood, think of what role money will play in your future plans. Will it be a means to an end? Or the end itself?

DISCUSS

Discuss the saying, “It’s lonely at the top." Do you believe this is true? Explain.
Can you think of any examples of celebrities who still seem to be unhappy?
What role should money play in a person’s life?

According to some mythologists, myths act as a form of wish fulfillment. The real world is limited, but in the myth world, the possibilities are endless. Human beings are full of dreams and secret wishes, and sometimes the only way these dreams can come true is through storytelling. For example, who has not—at least once—imagined what it would be like to fly like a bird? The myth of “Daedalus and Icarus" allows us to (through imagination) have that experience. Have you ever daydreamed of being a famous warrior? The Iliad provides its readers with a full-blown fantasy world where they can step into the famous sandals of warriors like Achilles and Hector. The myth of the Golden Touch has literal wish-fulfillment when Dionysus gives Midas the chance to have anything he wants, an opportunity most of us dream of. On a more somber note, the myth of Orpheus provides us with a common what if: What if a loved one could be brought back from the dead? Mythologists disagree whether these wishes are consciously (on purpose) inserted into the myths or if they subconsciously leak in. Regardless, it is interesting to see that the hopes and desires of people who lived roughly 3,000 years ago are not too different from our own.

DISCUSS

If you had one wish, what would you wish for? Explain.
Can you think of another example where a myth acted as a form of wish-fulfillment? Explain your answer.

Although the slave Plautus who appeared in this play has an element of comedy about him, slavery in ancient Greece was no laughing matter. Slavery was a booming business in the ancient world. Slave traders typically captured slaves by raiding villages in “barbarian" nations and brought them to Greece to sell in the city marketplaces. Sometimes slaves were obtained by one Greek city-state conquering another and hauling away its women and children, while the conquered men were held for ransom or killed. Job duties for house slaves involved all kinds of household chores, and certain slaves in wealthy households were educated in order to be tutors for the master’s children. Slaves owned by the city-state worked in factories, rowed on war ships, or dug for materials in narrow mine shafts. Many slaves were given freedom in their masters’ wills, while some even managed to save enough of their own money buy their freedom. Slaves became so abundant in Greece that even the very poorest of families would still have one or two slaves to do odd jobs about the house. The extremely wealthy would easily own a hundred.

Although the ancient Greeks and Romans loved their tragedy, they also enjoyed good comedy. At the all-day play competitions Athens hosted in honor of Dionysus, each competing playwright presented a series of four plays: three tragedies and a satyr play. Satyr plays were raunchy parodies of famous myths that used a chorus of satyrs to narrate the action. After sitting through three tragedies at a time (how many suicides can you stand?), the audience needed a break! Comedies, which were performed at separate festivals, were crowd favorites as well. Although satyr plays were crude versions of myths, comedies poked fun at everyday city life or satirized elements of society. In one of his comedies, the playwright Aristophanes mocked his contemporary Socrates, a famous thinker who epitomized the Athenian philosopher, by presenting him as an old fool. This style of comedy, which satirized society in order to produce a social or political message, is called Old Comedy. But out with the old and in with the new!

The Greek playwright Menander (c. 342–291 BC) and the Roman playwright Plautus (c. 254–184 BC) helped define a type of comedy called New Comedy. Unlike Old Comedy, New Comedy went for easygoing laughs by using situational comedy and stereotypical characters. New Comedy plots were fast-moving and generated their humor through puns, wordplay, and dirty jokes. These plays used conventions like mistaken identity, long-lost sons and daughters, thwarted love, maidens in distress, coincidental meetings, and happily-ever-after endings that are very familiar to modern audiences. The playwrights pulled from a stock of stereotypical characters that were familiar to Greek and Roman audiences: the prostitute with the heart of gold, the rich and greedy old man, the self-centered fop, the grumpy father opposed to true love, the manly military man who is only in love with himself, the innocent and naïve young girl, the slimy low-life, the honest-yet-dimwitted boy, and the wily slave. Many of these conventions were used in Shakespeare’s time (the Bard based some of his plots on those of Plautus) and even show up in comedies today. (The closest genre of modern comedy to New Comedy is the farce.)

The stock character that Plautus favored and perfected was the wily slave. In many of Plautus’ plays his slave characters eventually get the better of their masters and earn their freedom. This conception of the slave delighted ancient audiences because it played against their worldview. The idea of a slave being the most intelligent character in a play was a hilarious twist. It was also a bit of subtle subversion on the part of Plautus because playwrights and actors spent their lives nearly as penniless as slaves. The character Plautus in this version of the myth of Midas was added to this story as an homage to the spirit of New Comedy.

Comedy has greatly progressed since ancient times, and there are new terms in use to describe modern comedy (which we should we call “Really New Comedy"). The three commonly used terms for comedies today are farce, parody, and satire.

Midas’ story plays out like a farce, a story told with broad comedic strokes and a pace that quickens as the story goes along. Farces use physical humor (slapstick), wordplay, and unrealistic situations to get laughs. Most sitcoms (situational comedies) on television are farcical. A second kind of comedy, parody, mocks another (typically serious) story or type of story. In order for parody to work, the audience must be familiar with the source material to get much of the humor. Films like Blazing Saddles, Spaceballsand Robin Hood: Men in Tights parody three different types of film: westerns, sci-fi adventures, and Robin Hood swashbucklers, respectively. Although farces and parodies are just for fun, satire aims to bring out a change of opinion in its viewer concerning some social or political problem. The humor in satire is usually deadpan or ironic like the television news show The Colbert Report and the novel The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

No matter which type of comedy you prefer (Old Comedy, New Comedy, Really New Comedy), it is important to know that comedy is an art—one that has been developing for thousands of years.

DISCUSS

Can you think of examples of each type of comedy—farce, parody, and satire—from literature, music, or film? Explain why each fits the definition.

VIEW

View the film A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (1966), directed by Richard Lester. The story is set in ancient Rome, and the plot draws heavily from the works of Plautus. The film gives a hilarious look at what ancient New Comedy was like.

Animals often are used to illustrate human qualities, and for many centuries, across many cultures, the donkey (or the ass) has been associated with ignorance. In many of Aesop’s fables, the Greek storyteller used the donkey, a beast who commits ridiculous acts and is continually outwitted by the other animals, to symbolize human stupidity. In the Roman writer Apuleius’ The Golden Ass, the foolish main character is transformed into a donkey by a witch and spends the rest of the story stumbling from one predicament to another—barely escaping with his life. In imitation of this story, the 19th-century Italian writer Carlo Collodi caused his famous puppet Pinocchio to suffer a similar transformation for his naughty behavior. And the myth of Midas that you have read is yet another story that contributes to the association (pun intended).

So what is it about the donkey that makes it such an object of ridicule? Is it the beast’s strange features—long snout, comical ears, and goofy teeth? Or is it the beast’s association with being stubborn, lazy, and good for nothing? Maybe the donkey should be given a break. After all, there are plenty of dumb animals in the world. Why have various cultures singled out the donkey as the dumbest of the animals?

DISCUSS

Animals often become the symbols of human characteristics. For example, the owl (because of its association with the goddess Athena) is known for its wisdom. What are some other examples?
Why do animals act as good symbols of humanity?

FUN FACT

The Spanish word for donkey is burro, which means that the true name of the Mexican delicacy burrito is “little donkey." It is speculated that the name originated from the fact that a burrito somewhat resembles a donkey’s ear.

When the gods produced children with mortal partners, these children were always demi-gods—more than human, but still mortal offspring. Dionysus, the god of the vine, was an exception. His conception occurred in the typical way: Zeus was having an affair with a mortal princess—this time a girl named Semele. Hera found out about the affair, as she usually did, and decided to destroy the princess in her typical fashion. (Up until this point, the story of Dionysus is about like every other story of this kind.) The way that Hera destroyed Semele was particularly sly. She appeared to the princess disguised as the girl’s old nursemaid and began to whisper doubts into the girl’s ear about the identity of her Olympian lover: Who was this new lover she had? How could she really know that he was a god? Maybe he was a mortal who was just taking advantage of her. Semele swore that he was really Zeus, but nursemaid-Hera said that the princess should demand proof from him. If he truly loved her, he should appear to her as he appears to his wife Hera on Olympus. Then she would know for sure.

Semele decided to follow her nursemaid’s advice. After all, the princess was carrying the god’s child. She needed to know the true nature of the father. The only problem with her request was that mortal eyes are not meant to behold the gods in their true form. This, of course, was all part of Hera’s plan. When Zeus came once again to visit his mortal love, Semele made him swear by the Styx that he would grant her any wish. Completely enamored with the girl, Zeus agreed, but when she made her request, he begged her to reconsider. The god had no choice but to comply. His human disguise fell away and from behind this blazed forth his true divine form. The sight incinerated the mortal girl, but as her body crumbled away to ash, Zeus snatched free the baby that he sensed growing in her womb. He quickly made a gash in his own thigh and sewed the baby up inside. There the greatest of gods carried the child for 3 more months until it was brought to term and then delivered it. That child was Dionysus. Because of his time spent in Zeus’ thigh, Dionysus was born a god, not a mortal, and stands alone as the only Olympian god who can boast having a mortal parent.

Dionysus, the god of wine, was a late addition to the Olympian pantheon, not to mention a controversial one. In Greece, a new religion sprang up around Dionysus—one that incorporated strange rituals in the middle of the forest, excessive drinking, bizarre sacrifices, and sex. His most fanatic followers were female and were labeled maenads or “mad women," which described their behavior once under the influence of too much wine. It was considered dangerous to encounter these women in their Dionysian frenzy. Animals and sometimes children were torn apart and eaten for their rituals. Because of the bizarre and violent behavior associated with the worship of this god, his religion was banned in many parts of Greece.

The myths surrounding Dionysus show how his worship was originally persecuted in Greece, but eventually came to be accepted. Myths tell how the young god journeyed from one city-state to another showing his divinity and demanding worship from the ancient kings. One king, Pentheus, denied Dionysus most vehemently and even tried to kill the god. In punishment, Pentheus, while he wandered through the forest, came upon a maenad ritual, one in which the king’s mother and aunts were participating. The maenads—their minds clouded by a vision from Dionysus—perceived Pentheus to be a wild animal and ripped him limb from limb. In another story, a band of pirates kidnapped Dionysus, thinking he was a mortal prince, and hauled him onto their ship to hold for ransom. They were shocked, however, when vines began to grow over their vessel and twist up the sails. Dionysus freed himself from his bonds and transformed the pirates into a pack of dolphins, which helplessly flopped over the side of the ship into the sea.

The original myth of Midas references Dionysus and mentions the bard Orpheus spreading the religion to Phrygia where Midas ruled. In other myths, instead of converting kings to Dionysus’ religion, Orpheus was actually opposed to the worship of Dionysus, and for this reason he was murdered by a band of maenads.

Eventually, Dionysus reached Olympus, and the Greeks incorporated him into the complicated network of gods that made up their religion. (In Athens, Dionysus became the patron god of the city-state’s greatest creation, drama.) The persecution of Dionysus shows us that the worship of each Greek god probably began as a separate cult that was gradually incorporated into a larger religion. Because Dionysus was the last god to be admitted to Olympus, his myths are the only ones that show a god struggling for acceptance.

The family of Midas was not always a royal family. Gordius, Midas’ father, actually became king thanks to a strange prophecy. It had been a time of trouble in Phrygia; the region was without a king. An oracle prophesied that peace would return when the elders of the city-state made a king out of a commoner. The “chosen one" should be the first man they saw driving an ox cart toward the Temple of Zeus. A man named Gordius happened to be doing just that. After being made king, Gordius dedicated his ox cart to Zeus. The oxen yoke and the pole of the cart were joined in a strange knot, to which only Gordius knew the secret. This cart remained on display for centuries after the death of both Gordius and Midas with the knot still tied, and eventually a legend developed concerning it: Whoever was crafty enough to untie the knot would become the lord of Asia.

When Alexander the Great began a quest to conquer the known world (including Asia), he made a visit to the famous knot. After he pondered its construction and tried to think of a way to untie the knot, the young king grew frustrated, pulled out his sword, and slashed through the knot. Needless to say, Alexander became the lord of Asia.

DISCUSS

Although many of Alexander’s detractors said he cheated, many of his fans said that his solution was actually the answer to the riddle posed by Gordius. Which side do you agree with?

RESEARCH

Research more about Alexander the Great, the young man who had conquered the known world by the time of his death at age 32.