A number of writers have used the image of a golden millstone to describe something of great value that becomes a great burden. Here are three early examples. From "Prof. Norton's Dante," in The Critic (January 23, 1892):
The wand of Dante points to this and that mystic canvas, while the poet explains in exquisite musical cantos one after the other of the great circles of pictures that pass before him in the triple allegory. He is one of those men to whom one becomes attached in youth and remains attached until old age,—a sort of golden millstone hung round one's neck, a haunting presence that will not be allayed.
From Oliver Herford, "The Miser Elf," in St. Nicholas (September 1894):
But, ah! with all his golden dust and jewels rich and rare,
This little elf was never free from misery and care.
The wealth that might have conjured up all good things at his beck
Was just a golden millstone that hung around his neck.
He never had one moment's peace, his treasure out of sight,
Though he buried it for safety in a different place each night;
Each night the thought of robbers made him close his eyes in vain,
And just as soon as it was light, he'd dig it up again.
From Marie Corelli, The Treasure of Heaven (1925):
Death, however, in its fiercest shape, had now put an abrupt end to any such benevolent scheme, whether or not it might have been feasible,—and absorbed in a kind of lethargic reverie, he again and again asked himself what use he was in the world—what could he do with the brief remaining portion of his life?—and how he could dispose, to his own satisfaction, of the vast wealth which, like a huge golden mill-stone, hung round his neck, dragging him down to the grave?