Images from Paradise. Eszter Salgó

to and even renounce asking questions about the

      extraordinary predominantly feminine population which greets us from the porches of cathedrals, crowds around our public monuments, marks our coins and our banknotes, and turns up in our cartoons and our posters. (1971: 247)

      Yet for us it is worth reflecting on the considerations and fantasies underlying the decision to ornament the new euro series with the portrait of Europa. Could we see in it an attempt to transform once and for all the euro’s humble story into a numinous tale? The image of the Phoenician princess has been traveling for various centuries through different territories, adorning everyday objects such as plates, medals, mirrors, stamps, and coins. Could it be that her voyage, ensured by the circulation of the European common currency, has several mysterious elements, conundrums difficult to decipher?

      As Roland Barthes points out, myths represent a “type of speech,” a system of communication, a message that includes not just written but also visual discourse, not just modes of writing or of representations but also photography, cinema, reporting, sport, shows, and publicity (1972: 109, 110). While EU officials have offered several different verbal narratives about the origins and the rebirth of the “European family,” the ECB president chose the Europa myth and provided a visual (and partly verbal) and somewhat artistic representation of the paradise dream.

      Before becoming a geographical expression, a political concept, a cultural identity, an economic fortress, a paradise dream, or a sui generis organization, Europe was a beautiful Phoenician princess, the daughter of king Agenor and the sister of Cadmos, whose story, in Moschus’s interpretation (1912), starts with a dream. Numerous versions of Europa’s story exist; the one written by this Alexandrian bucolic poet in the second century BC is interesting for at least two reasons. In recent studies the prevalent idea is that the name of the Phoenician princess and that of the continent were independent in origin. Moschus, however, is one of the few who identified Europa both with the maiden and with the continent. Furthermore, he opened his tale with a dream-image, which may remind us that at the core of the European civilization lies a myth, a collective dream.

      Europa on the eve of her rapture dreamed that two lands, in the form of two women, were fighting for her possession. One looked familiar, the other, a stranger. Although the former (the native Asia) claimed that she was her nursing and nourishing mother, the maiden felt more attracted by the foreigner and more willing to submit to her violent advances. Once awake, the vision remained in her imagination. Feeling frightened by the obscurity of the dream, she wished to know which god had sent her forth such phantoms, what the meaning of the dream was, and, in particular, who the unknown woman represented: “how did desire possess my heart for her, and how gladly likewise did she take me to her arms and look upon me as I had been her child!” (Moschus 1912: [1]). In Moschus’s story we then see Europa gathering wildflowers in a seaside meadow with her companions. All of a sudden, she catches sight of a beautiful, unusually gentle white bull—Zeus in disguise—whose fragrance is more pleasurable than that of the flowers. It is worth quoting how the strong sensuality of the magic encounter is described (the image chosen by Draghi seems to capture exactly these moments of seduction):

      There went he then and stood afore the spotless may Europa, and for to cast his spell upon her began to lick her pretty neck. Whereat she fell to touching and toying, and did wipe gently away the foam that was thick upon his mouth, till at last there went a kiss from a maid unto a bull. Then he lowed, and so moving-softly you would deem it was the sweet cry of the flute of Mygdony, and kneeling at Europa’s feet, turned about his head and beckoned her with a look to his great wide back. (Moschus 1912: [89])

      Attracted irresistibly by the bull, the Phoenician princess climbs upon its back. At that moment, the bull jumps into the sea, determined to carry the maiden across the sea from Tyre to the island of Crete. During the journey, nereids rise from the water and become her companions while Tritons with their long taper shells sound the marriage-music. Once she is far from the land of her fathers and cannot see any more the shore, but only the endless sky and sea, she starts to feel that her sea voyage is being guided by a divinity. The bull reveals to her that in Crete she will celebrate her wedding with Zeus and give birth to famous children who shall all be kings. When they arrive at their destination the animal unveils his true identity, and “upon a bed made him of the Seasons [unloosens] her maiden girdle” and transforms the virgin into his bride, and the mother of his children.

      Concerned about Europa’s disappearance, Agenor sends his sons Cadmus, Cilix, and Phoenix to find their sister and bring her back home. Cadmus decides to follow an Oracle of Delphi who orders him to embark on a different journey: to follow the cow that he meets on his voyage and found a city upon the spot where it lies down. Instead of finding his sister he creates the Greek city of Thebes and becomes its first king. Europa gives birth to Minos, Rhadamanthys, and Sarpedon; she becomes the first queen of Crete by marrying Asterion, who rears her children. Minos marries Pasiphae and receives a bull from Poseidon for sacrifice. Enchanted by the bull’s beauty, he decides to keep it and sacrifice another. As a redress for Minos’s betrayal, the god of the sea makes Pasiphae fall in love with the bull, have sexual intercourse with it, and bear the monstrous Minotauros (a man with a bull’s head). Minotauros lives in the Labyrinthos and is fed on human flesh. After the conquest of Athens by Minos the Athenians are compelled to send their children to feed the monster until Theseus comes with them, and with the help of Ariadne, kills it and escapes.

      The myth of Europa evokes the stories of figures of the female Greek pantheon who abandon their virginal state by leaving their own land, and through the humiliation of abduction become wives and mothers. Unlike many other women who had had the misfortune of meeting Zeus, Europa’s case is special: while Medea and Elena accept the journey for love of a man consciously, she seems to follow her deep (unconscious) inner impulses. Furthermore, in acquiring regal power and dignity, even the love of a god, not only will she not be killed like many of Zeus’s other lovers, but she will continue to live happily with a regal husband. The story of the Phoenician princess and Zeus represents a foundation myth par excellence—it narrates the foundation of the Cretan dynasty by Minos, the creation of the city of Thebes in Boeotia by Cadmus, the foundation of Phoenicia by Phoenix, and, in Asia Minor, the naming of the land where Cilix settled after the unsuccessful search for Europa, Cilicia. It is a cosmogony myth that unites land, sea, sky, continents, and people and comprises the human, the vegetable, the animal, the male and the female, the conscious and the unconscious (Passerini 2002a: 20).

      The story of Europa has had an immense impact on the history of the idea of Europe, becoming “one of the most perennially popular illustrated tales of all time” (Wintle 2004: 13). Since ancient times the Europa myth has been widely represented in fine and applied art. Though it was pushed to the background in the Middle Ages, it regained its popularity during the Renaissance and has maintained its attractive power ever since. The myth has always been used to provide artistic expressions of passion, eroticism, and rivalry (between the Greeks and Persians, between true Europe and Nazi regimes, etc.), but also to define and raise awareness of the qualities and characteristics that have been imputed to the continent of Europe. For Wintle, the reasons why artists throughout centuries have appreciated and used the story lie in the following: its potential for humor; its “suitability” as a subject for decorative purposes; its potential for portraying aesthetic beauty, nobility, and queenliness; its dramatic qualities and sense of kinetic energy, rapid speed, and energetic travel that Europeans could and can enjoy; its treatment of romance and sensuality; its role as a symbol of power (2004: 12, 22, 28).

      The tale became a highly charged political symbol for the European Community as well. In the post–World War II period the Phoenician heroine reappeared as the symbolic icon of the noble, united, reinvigorated part of the continent. In political discourse she became the allegory of soft power while the bull more often than not assumed the sinister connotations of the enemy that jeopardized Europe’s future peace, prosperity, and unity. Sometimes inclusionist, sometimes exclusionist interpretations came to the fore: the myth was used to acknowledge Europe’s wider, non-European roots (the Phoenician princess herself is from Asia Minor and is only carried to Europe by the bull), to argue that European citizens were not necessarily European, or to recognize the dark side of European civilization (in the myth Europa is a progenitor of the minotaur, just like