King Midas and the Golden Touch

Part One · The Wish

Long ago, in the land of Phrygia, there lived a king named Midas who loved gold more than anything else in the world. He owned a magnificent palace with a hundred rooms, a garden overflowing with roses, and a little daughter named Marygold, whose laughter was so cheerful that the servants called her the sunshine of the house. But every night, King Midas crept down to a secret room beneath the palace to count his treasure. He stacked his coins in glittering towers and whispered, "More. If only I had more."

One morning, the gardeners discovered an old man snoring in the rose beds. He had a round belly, a crown of ivy leaves, and a beard decorated with petals, and he could not remember how he had arrived. His name was Silenus, and he was the teacher of Dionysus, the god of the grape harvest and merry celebrations. Midas did not know any of that. He only saw a lost and confused old man, so he gave him a comfortable bed, delicious food, and ten days of music and feasting.

On the eleventh day, Midas brought the old man home to Dionysus. The young god was so delighted to see his teacher again that he clapped his hands and laughed. "You have been generous to my friend," he told the king, "so choose any gift you like, and it is yours." Midas did not need to think for long. "I wish," he announced, "that everything I touch would turn to gold." Dionysus raised one eyebrow. "Are you certain?" he asked. "Absolutely certain," said Midas. "Then it is done," said the god, and he did not smile.

Part Two · The Golden Touch

King Midas hurried home, and he could hardly wait to test his marvelous gift. On the way, he reached up and snapped a twig from an oak tree, and instantly it turned heavy and bright in his hand, a golden twig with golden leaves. He picked up an ordinary stone from the road, and the stone turned to gold. He scooped up a handful of dirt, and it became a shining lump. "I am the richest king who ever lived!" he shouted, and a startled bird flew out of the tree.

Back at the palace, he raced from room to room, touching everything he could reach. The doors turned to gold, and so did the chairs, the curtains, and the tall marble pillars. He pressed his hand against a wall, and gold spread across it like sunlight spilling over a floor. In the garden, he touched the roses, one after another, until every bush gleamed. The golden flowers were beautiful, but they no longer smelled sweet. Midas did not notice, because he was too busy laughing.

By evening the king was hungry, so his servants arranged an enormous feast on the golden table. Midas tore off a piece of bread, and it clanked against his teeth, because it had turned to solid gold. He lifted a bunch of purple grapes, and they became hard little golden marbles. He poured a cup of water and tried to drink, but it trickled down his chin in a stream of gold and hardened on his robe. Midas stared at the useless food in front of him. For the first time all day, he was not laughing.

Just then the door flew open, and little Marygold ran in, crying. In her hand she carried a stiff golden rose. "Father," she sobbed, "what happened to the garden? The roses are hard and cold, and they don't smell like anything at all!" Midas wanted to explain, but he had no idea what to say. Marygold noticed how miserable he looked, and without a word, she ran around the table and threw her arms around him to give him a hug.

The moment she touched him, she stopped. Her warm pink cheeks turned to shining metal. Her hair became thin threads of gold, and her tears froze on her face like tiny golden beads. Marygold was a statue now, still hugging her father, with a small golden smile on her lips. The king cried out and held her, but she was cold and silent and terribly heavy. "My daughter!" he wept. "What have I done? Take the gold away, every bit of it, and give me back my girl!"

Part Three · The River

Midas ran out of the palace and all the way to the forest where he had left Dionysus. He fell on his knees in the grass, and he was not a proud king anymore. "Please," he begged, "take back your gift. I was a foolish man, and I would give every coin I own to hear my daughter laugh again." The god studied him for a long, long time, and then his face grew gentle. "Go to the river Pactolus," he said, "and wash yourself in the water, up where the river begins."

Midas ran until his legs ached. He found the river high in the hills, bubbling cold and clear over the rocks, and he jumped straight in, crown and robe and all. The water swirled around him, and the gold slid off his hands like paint. It sank down and glittered in the sand at the bottom of the river. Then the king filled an enormous jug with river water and carried it home as fast as he could, splashing it the whole way.

He went directly to the golden statue of his daughter and poured the water over her head. Slowly, the gold melted away. Her cheeks grew rosy, her hair turned soft and brown, and her eyes blinked. Marygold sneezed, and then she giggled. "Father, why are you pouring water on me?" she asked. Midas could not answer, because he was hugging her too tightly. Afterward they carried the jug into the garden and sprinkled the roses until they were red again and smelled sweet.

After that, King Midas was a different man. He gave most of his treasure to the people of his city, and he never counted coins in the dark again. He preferred plain bread and cool water, and he spent his mornings in the garden with Marygold, whose brown hair kept just a little golden shine. Whenever anyone asked him about gold, he only smiled. "You can't eat it," he said, "and you can't hug it." People say the river Pactolus still has flecks of gold in its sand, where the king once washed his wish away.