Changing Paintings: 54 How Midas got his touch and his ears

In a complete contrast to the death of Orpheus, the opening myth in Book Eleven of the Metamorphoses, Ovid continues with two lighter and humorous tales about King Midas.

Once Bacchus had turned the murderous Bacchantes into an oak wood, he left the scene and wandered to the River Pactolus. As was usual, the god was in the company of his friends, although Silenus was absent until he was retrieved by King Midas. To celebrate the return of Silenus, Bacchus invited the king to ask for whatever he wanted as a boon. Midas responded by wishing that everything he touched was turned to gold.

That wish was granted, and at first Midas was delighted and amazed with his new power. He turned a twig to gold, then a stone, a lump of earth, ears of wheat, and an apple. When he put his hands into running water, it too flowed gold. But when he tried to eat, the food he touched turned to gold before he could put it into his mouth, so too the wine that he was going to drink. Midas admitted to Bacchus how his boon was proving such a disaster, and pleaded for his power to be removed. Bacchus told him to go and wash his crime away in the headwaters of the River Pactolus, which coloured that river and its sands gold from contact with the king.

Walter Crane (1845–1915), King Midas with his Daughter (1893), further details not known. Wikimedia Commons.

Walter Crane’s book illustration of King Midas with his Daughter, published in 1893, seems to be one of the few works telling this directly. It shows the hapless king, surrounded by all the gold objects he has touched, with his daughter dead on his knee, cold and gold.

Nicolas Poussin (1594–1665) Midas Washing Himself in the Source of the Pactolus (1627), oil on canvas, 97.5 × 72.5 cm, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY. Wikimedia Commons.

Nicolas Poussin (probably) painted a remarkable and subtle work showing Midas Washing Himself in the Source of the Pactolus in 1627. Midas is almost out of sight at the left, but his touchmark gold is seen on the wreaths crowning the others present, and glowing on the nose of rock above them.

Having told us that unusual story in which one of the mortal characters performs all the transformations, albeit with the aid of a god, and accounting for natural gold in a river, Ovid moves on to the less known myth of Midas and a music contest. Despite similarities with that between Apollo and Marsyas, this has a humorous rather than gruesome ending.

Having developed a real loathing for riches, Midas led an outdoor life with the god Pan, but continued to do stupid things. Pan sang and played his pipes, making music he claimed was even better than that of the god Apollo, a boast that resulted in a contest between them, with Tmolus as the judge.

Pan played first, then Apollo, and inevitably Tmolus gave his verdict in favour of Apollo’s lyre, so Midas took exception to that, considering it unjust. Apollo responded by transforming the king’s ears into those of an ass, forcing him to hide them with a purple turban to spare him the laughter they caused. A servant who came to cut the king’s hair witnessed his secret, and told it to the earth in a hole that he dug. A grove grew where that hole had been, and when the south wind blew, the grove whispered the secret of the king’s ears.

Domenichino (1581–1641) and workshop, The Judgement of Midas (Villa Aldobrandini Frescoes) (1616-18), fresco transferred to canvas and mounted on board, 267 x 224 cm, The National Gallery (Bought, 1958), London. Courtesy of and © The National Gallery, London.

Domenichino included The Judgement of Midas as part of the superb frescoes he and his workshop painted in the Villa Aldobrandini in 1616-18. Midas stands proud in his folly, his ass’s ears plain to see, with Apollo and Pan on each side. Amazingly, seven chalk drawings made for this have survived, and are in the British Royal Collection.

Hendrick de Clerck (1560/1570–1630), The Contest Between Apollo and Pan (c 1620), oil on copper, 43 x 62 cm, Rijksmuseum Amsterdam, Amsterdam, The Netherlands. Wikimedia Commons.

This jewel of a painting by Hendrick de Clerck, showing The Contest Between Apollo and Pan was painted in about 1620, just after Domenichino’s frescoes. Pan holds his pipes and dances at the right, and Apollo is seen bowing an early form of violin just to the left of centre. Between them are Tmolus, the judge next to Apollo, and Midas, with his ass’s ears. Seven Graces are also present, and Minerva is talking to Apollo.

Nicolas Poussin (1594–1665), Midas and Bacchus (1629-30), oil on canvas, 98 x 130 cm, Alte Pinakothek, Munich, Germany. Wikimedia Commons.

A few years later Nicolas Poussin (probably) painted his version of Midas and Bacchus (1629-30), showing a different group. The centre trio are, from the left, Apollo, Pan (with his pipes), and King Midas, with fairly regular ears. At the far left, Bacchus has nodded off at the table, presumably from his customary excess of wine. In front could be Venus, perhaps, and there are sundry figures scattered, including two putti wrestling with a black and white goat.

Émile Lévy (1826–1890), The Judgement of Midas (1870), oil on canvas, 182 x 115 cm, Musée Fabre, Montpellier, France. Wikimedia Commons.

Émile Lévy’s painting of The Judgement of Midas was completed in 1870, and is as clean and uncluttered as Crane’s later illustration. Apollo stands in disdain. Seated with his ass’s ears and a facile smile all over his face is King Midas, who is passing a gold laurel crown, a reference to his earlier golden touch, to Pan, who holds his pipes aloft in victory.