Sunday, July 5, 2015

Chapter 17: surface meanings, 409-426

In Chapter 17, Dummett finds himself ready to take up what the triumphs mean. He has two qualifications: first, he is not going to talk about "hidden meanings", but only "surface meanings", i.e. ones that are "plainly visible". The second qualification is that he is not gong to talk about the meanings of the triumphs as they occur in a sequence with other triumphs, but only "individually", their meanings apart from the sequence.

This last may seem like a rather drastic qualification. I have to say, I cannot make much sense of his argument. So rather than paraphrase it, I will quote what he says, from the very the beginning of the chapter, word for word. Here he only addresses the issue of "symbolic meaning of the sequence as a whole", as he has dealt with "hidden meanings" already, in Chapter 5. I have not discussed them yet, because I agree with Dummett, in so far as I understand him, that any discussion of "hidden meanings" must first take into account the "surface meanings".

Here I am not sure what the distinction is, other than "plainly visible" vs. "hidden". But surely Justice isn't "plainly visible" in a lady with scales and a sword. In another context, she might be a lady weighing goods before paying for them, with a sword for protection. I suspect Dummett has in mind what Panofsky calls "primary or natural subject matter" and "secondary or conventional subject matter" as opposed to "internal meaning or content" (Studies in Iconology, paperback edition, 1972, pp. 5-8. I am not sure who invented these terms, as they also appear in other art historians of the "Warburg" school, but Panofsky to my mind gives the clearest definitions. Of primary or natural subject matter, he says (p. 5):
It is apprehended by identifying pure forms, that is: the subject-matter of what we identify in "certain configurations of line and color, or certain peculiarly shaped lumps of bronze or stones, as representations of natural objects such as human beings, animals, plants, houses, tools, and so forth; by identifying their mutual relations as events, and by perceiving such expressional qualities as the mournful character of of a pose or gesture, or the homelike and peaceful atmosphere of an interior.
Then there is secondary of conventional subject matter (p. 6):
It is apprehended by realizing that a male figure with a knife represents St. Bartholomew, that a female figure with a peach in her hand is a personification of Veracity, that a group of figures seated at a dinner table in a certain arrangement and in certain poses represents the Last Supper, or that two figures fighting each other in a certain manner represent the Combat of Vice and Virtue. In doing this we connect artistic motifs and combinations of artistic motifs (compositions) with themes or concepts. Motifs thus recognized as carriers of a secondary or conventional meaning may be called images, and a combination of images are what the ancient theorists of art called 'inventioni,' we are wont to call them stories or allegories.
Then for intrinsic meaning or content (p. 7).
It is apprehended by ascertaining those underlying principles which reveal the basic attitude of a nation, a period, a class, a religious or philosophical persuasion--unconsciously qualified by one personality and condensed into one work.
There is of course much more on this third category, but since Dummett isn't concened with it I will not quote more. Dummett is on the first level and the most obvious aspects of the second. Exactly when the second stops and the third begins is not obvious to me in relation to the Renaissance, since it involved the construction of allegories in non-conventional ways, expressing concepts of new philosophies and allegories without becoming conventional in the sense of being repeated in the same way by others. Much Renaissance secular art falls into this category.

With these definitions in mind, here is the beginning of Dummett's Chapter 17 (p. 409):
Gli occultisti sono del parere che i trionfi dei tarocchi racchiudano un profondo, sebbene nascosto, simbolismo; e questa opinione è condivisa da molti che non hanno propensione per l’occulto. La tesi può essere divisa in due parti: che le singole carte abbiano ciascuna un significato nascosto e che la sequenza nella sua totalità abbia un particolare senso simbolico.

La pretesa che la sequenza abbia un significato particolare acquista maggiore plausibilità se si parte dall’assunto che l’ordine a cui si attribuisce tale significato sia quello originario; in questo caso, infatti, i soggetti potrebbero essere stati scelti con l’intenzione di disporli proprio in quell’ordine. Si deve allora supporre che colóro che in seguito cambiarono l’ordine fossero ignari di tale simbolismo. È molto meno probabile che una disposizione simbolicamente significativa sia stata ottenuta attraverso un cambiamento dell’ordine originario che lasciasse intatti i soggetti. Quasi tutti coloro che hanno tentato di scoprire un simbolismo nella successione dei trionfi hanno preso come base l’ordine del Tarocco di Marsiglia, soprattutto perché ignari del fatto che vi sia o vi sia mai stato un qualsiasi altro ordine. Un’eccezione è Gertrude Moakley, che basa la sua interpretazione sull’ordine di tipo B che, come abbiamo visto, è caratteristico di Ferrara. Un’interpretazione del tutto convincente, pertanto, costituirebbe di per sé una prova che l’ordine su cui si basa è quello originario. A mio parere, tuttavia, nessuna di queste interpretazioni, nemmeno quella di Gertrude Moakley, che pure è la più plausibile, è sufficientemente convincente. Finché non avremo prove indipendenti su quale dei tre tipi di ordine è l’originario, sembra più prudente non tentare alcuna interpretazione della sequenza e io non tratterò oltre l’argomento.

Per quanto riguarda i singoli trionfi, il loro significato, salvo pochissime eccezioni, sembra perfettamente trasparente e non sembra necessario andare in cerca di significati reconditi. Questo non esclude la possibilità di significati più profondi; comunque, i significati di superficie sono lì e ogni interpretazione accettabile delle carte deve tenerne conto. Mentre la teoria di Gertrude Moakley sulla sequenza dei trionfi non è del tutto convincente, la sua interpretazione delle singole carte appare interamente corretta e ad essa ci atterremo.

(The occultists are of the opinion that the trumps of the Tarot enclose a deep, though hidden, symbolism; and this opinion is shared by many who have no appetite for the occult. The thesis can be divided into two parts: the individual cards each have a hidden meaning and that the sequence as a whole has a special symbolic meaning.

The claim that the sequence has a particular meaning acquires greater plausibility if it is assumed that the order in which this meaning is attributed is the original one; in this case, in fact, the subject may have been chosen with the intention of arranging them precisely in that order. It must therefore be assumed that those who later changed the order were unaware of such symbolism. It is much less likely that a symbolically significant provision has been obtained through a change in the original order that would leave intact the subject. Almost everyone who has tried to find a symbolism in the succession of triumphs took as a basis the order of the Tarot of Marseilles, especially oblivious to the fact that there is or has ever been any other order. An exception is Gertrude Moakley, who bases her interpretation on the order of type B, which, as we have seen, is characteristic of Ferrara. An altogether convincing one, therefore, constitutes in itself as a proof that the order on which it is based is the original one. In my opinion, however, none of these interpretations, not even that of Gertrude Moakley, which is also the most plausible, is sufficiently convincing. Until we have independent evidence on which of [end of 409] the three types of order is the original, it seems more prudent not to attenpt any interpretation of the sequence and I will not deal with the topic further.

As for the individual triumphs, their meaning, with very few exceptions, seems perfectly clear and it does not seem necessary to go in search of hidden meanings. This does not exclude the possibility of deeper meanings; however, the surface meanings are there and any acceptable interpretation of the cards must take them into account. While the theory of Gertrude Moakley on the sequence of trumps is not entirely convincing, her interpretation of the individual cards is entirely correct and we will stick to it.
He seems to be saying that if we knew the original order of the triumphs, it might be possible to to find an interpretation of the symbolic meaning of the sequence as a whole. Conversely, if we had a fully convincing symbolic interpretation of the sequence, then that would be a good argument in favor of a particular order as the orignal one.However we have neither.

It seems to me quite true that since we cannot say what the original sequence was, we can't say what its original meaning was. Some people hold that we can say roughly what the sequence was originally, because of the basic similarities among the three orders A, B and C. I disagree, on the grounds that we don't even know what the triumphs were originally. There may have been only 5 or 6 figures, and the rest number cards; or 13, 14, or 16, and one or more may have changed in subject. That makes a difference. Of course Dummett would not have accepted my grounds for agreeing with him, but I can't help that. Otherwise, given the 21 triumphs that are in the A, B, and C orders, and that so many of them never changed position at all, and when they did change, it was only by one or two cards changing its place, it seems to me that we can say quite a bit about the cards in sequence.

On the other hand, I don't see why we need to know the original composition of the triumphs in order to understand the later sequences. People seem to think of tarot as like a manuscript where we don't know which page came in what order, and what has been altered on the page by inattentive scribes. So the job of the researcher is like manuscript reconstruction, reconstructing the original text based on looking at the existing manuscripts, in this case, incomplete packs and lists given by writers.

It might be like that, but it might not. Complex new inventions often develop and change, some for the better. The automobile is the result of attaching a German gasoline engine to a French frame. Others tried steam. It worked, but did not serve the purpose, or purposes, as well, at least for the people who mattered. The computer is similar, and television. And o understand the meaning--i.e. purpose, use--of an automobile, it is not necessary to know the precise original purpose of its original components

In the matter of texts, take the three synoptic gospels. They might be three separate takes on the life of someone they knew and admired. They might also be three different attempts to work with one main fragmentary narrative mostly of sayings, combining it with different other fragmentary narratives to come up with something that made sense. It seems to me that the results speak for themselves, and we don't need to go back and reconstruct the previous documents in order to understand what we have, more or less. Such attempts might bring light to some obscure areas but they might also be just as uncertain as what we already have.

The tarot sequences in the three orders would then be like the three first gospels, in being similar presentations, but without words. It seems to me most straightforward, the least speculative, to construct several narratives, each on its own terms. Also, it might not be a narrative in the sense of a sequence of events, but a series of lessons, where each is a little harder than the one before. But he word "triumph" and the use of these cards in the game implies some kind of advance from beginning to end.

For another example, take Shakespeare's Hamlet, surely a creation at least as durable as the tarot. Sometimes scholars try to reconstruct what the original would have been, the Ur-Hamlet, back when it was first referred to in the 1589 and 1595 (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ur-Hamlet). Probably it was just a revenge play. Then there is the "second quarto" version and the "folio" version (never mind the "first quarto"). Neither has any claim to being the original, but the "second quarto" was probably earlier. Is the "second quarto" the only one to pay attention to, or did the playwright perhaps improve it over time? Or is "the play" a combination of the two, in all its resulting inconsistency? Or is it what both have in common (thereby rendering it incoherent)? Or is it none of the above, and the play is whatever a particular director or reader chooses, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse? I am inclined to believe that each of the two published versions deserves to be considered on its own merits, and a director may find a way to include the best of one in a performance essentially of the other. The "original" Hamlet needs not be performed at all.

In the case of the tarot, we have only guesses as to what it looked like originally, precisely because it was a new invention and not a continuing phenomenon like events in nature. With new things, we cannot infer that the past at one time was like the past at a later time, just because it was not like the present. That's what "new" means. It might originally have been 5 figures and 8 number cards, and the figures all designed to satirize people in authority. Then someone moralized it properly, to keep it from being banned. Someone else cast it in the framework of Petrarch's poem. Someone else added cards for one reason or another. Then they tinkered with the order. Just as games--like most inventions--develop and become more or less sophisticated, so do the decks they are played with. I am not saying this is the way it was, just that it is as reasonable, given what we know now, as supposing that it was 21 triumphs in more or less the way we have them from the beginning. There are many possibilities.

So I would apply Dummett's reaction to T. S. Eliot's query about "the" tarot pack with a similar reaction to a query about "the" meaning of "the" tarot pack. Meanings can shift, depending on what is on the card in a particular deck and how it fits into the sequence there. That may involve speculations about the "internal" meanings of those cards as well. 

To understand thoroughly why changes occurred in the cards, including additions, subtractions, and alterations in what is depicted, we would also need to understand humanists' theories of interpretation, which seem to me to lie behind numerous artistic creations of the Renaissance. This is also necessary in order to investigate the symbolic life of the cards apart from the artist's intentions.

As stated at the beginning of this blog, each deck or standard is its own thing; and since the cards are used for a game, they need to look similar to what the players used before, so that the player does not have to get used to a whole new look. He does have to be able to identify the card at a glance. And there still may be major changes once in a while, beyong the players' control, for example when a new regime governs what can be printed.

This is also not to say that there weren't errors. The Hanged Man being presented right side up seems to me, as to Dummett, an error in copying the card. It is a rather incredible one, since "Pendu" was right on the card. However "Pendu" doesn't only mean "hanged"; it also means "stuck to" or "clinging to". Perhaps the designer thought the person was tied up pending a trial. Or there there was a "hidden meaning" that he didn't know about but needed to be faithful to--or one he did know about, but I don't.

Some people might still want to deny that there is any symbolic meaning to the sequence. The cards are simply tokens in a card game, known by whatever will readily identify them, with enough of a pattern that it is not hard to do so. But if so, why weren't they given numbers from the start? And why didn't someone immediately dominate the market by making this obvious innovation, so that no memorization would be necessary? Dummett says in his 1980 book (although he doesn't repeat it in 1993) that it just didn't occur to anyone. In a culture that numbered pages, items on lists, hours of the day, and many other things, that is hard to believe. It is especially hard when the cards necessarily do have a sequential order governing trick-taking. And there was abundant precedent for educational games, including ones with cards.

Emilia Maggio writes in a recent article in The Playing card ("The Stag Rider from the so-called "tarot of Aessandro Sforza" at the Museo Civico di Castello Ursino of Catania", 42:12, Apr-Jun 2014, p. 229), after describing a 10th century game with dice relating to the virtues, and before describing a card game of John of Rheinfelden "combining entertainment with learning about ethics":
The argument that also the so-called tarot cards were originally designed as an educational game or study aid seems now widely accepted.
I do not actually support that, but only because I make no suppositions about its original purpose or specific content. But I do support that it probably was the case for the early originally unnumbered cards that we know, or at least one of the decks, or some predecessor long since lost. My best guess, like Dummett's, is that it had something to do with the Triumphs of Petrarch; to that I would add: also Boccaccio's triumphs (he added Fortune) and the seven virtues, perhaps in something less than 21 triumphs. As for the whole 21, that requires more work.

With that preamble on the perspective I bring to the meanings of the triumphs, I will begin looking at Dummett's presentation in another post.

DUMMETT ON THE MEANING OF TRUMP ONE, EL BAGATELLA

Rejecting the quest for sequential meaning and hidden meanings, Dummett says what he will do (p. 416):
We are not, however, trying to find hidden meanings. They can be there or not: it will be enough to ascertain the surface meanings, which, with very few exceptions, are clearly visible.
Besides what is clearly visible, there are also literary references, which give verbal equivalents of the cards:
To achieve the originally intended meanings of the triumphs we need to know what names were known in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. To this end, we have to rely on literary sources.
For that he gives 16 sixteenth century literary compositions--12 from Venice or Ferrara, 1 from Lombardy, 1 from Piedmont 2 from Rome, 1 from Central Italy--and 3 seventeenth century Bolognese compositions. plus a c. 1550 poem from Bologna discovered by Depaulis (given by Marcos as item 13 at viewtopic.php?f=11&t=552&p=7877&hilit=Benedetto+Clario+Cieco#p7877). To that might be added the Stramboli of c. 1500 Rome and Alciati's poem in Latin, 1544 Lombardy, which he somehow forgets to mention here (although he did earlier). The sources and names are well enough known that I am not going to repeat them. The only strange one is "Militia" in the Depaulis' discovery.

Actually, these sources--and others of the time that use these words--are valuable not only for the names, but in some cases also for their meanings. Dummet in fact uses a few of the sources for that purpose.

So now I will look at what he says.

THE FIRST SIX

For some reason, he starts with the Fool, even though he has repeatedly said that it is not a triumph, at least not originally so. I will skip it until the end, not because I believe it is the last triumph but because it was not part of the triumph sequence in the vast majority of games. Perhaps I am mistaken, but I believe in looking at the cards in the context of their role in the game.

So I start with the card called in the Steele Sermon "el Bagatella". Here is Dummett (p.416):
Il Bagatto è talvolta ritratto come un vecchio, talvolta come un giovane; ma è sempre ritto o seduto a un tavolo su cui sono esposte delle mercanzie; a volte non ci sono altre figure, a volte ce ne sono due o tre che contrattano con lui. Egli è, pertanto, un mercante o un saltimbanco, come indica il nome francese «le Bateleur». Sembra probabile che il nome italiano originale, ‘il Bagatella’, avesse lo stesso significato della parola moderna «una bagatella» e si riferisse non al soggetto ritratto, ma al fatto che la carta è la più bassa fra i trionfi e può essere battuta da tutti gli altri; si confronti il nome francese 'le Petit’ (il Piccolo) per questa carta. Così, il predicatore del sermone ‘De Ludo’ afferma:
Primus didtur El bagatella (et est omnium inferior).
[Il primo si chiama ‘Il bagatella’ (ed è il più basso di tutti)].
L’espressione ‘il Bagattino’, già in uso presso i giocatori bolognesi, sembra significare un uomo da nulla, come nel sonetto amoroso a Mamma Riminaldì:
Però dee creder fermamente ognuno Ch’un spirito malvagio habbia costej Sopposta solamente al Bagatino 10.
(The Bagatto is sometimes portrayed as an old man, sometimes as a young one; but he is always standing or sitting at a table on which are displayed merchandise; sometimes there are other figures, sometimes there are two or three who contract with him. He is therefore, a merchant or mountebank [saltimbanco], as indicated by his French name, "le Bateleur". It seems likely that the original Italian name, 'il Bagatella', had the same meaning as the modern word “una bagatella” ["a trifle"] and refers not to the subject portrayed, but to the fact that the card is the lowest among the triumphs and can be beaten by all the others; we encounter the French name 'le Petit' (The Little One) for this card. Thus, the preacher's sermon 'De Ludo' says:
Primus didtur El bagatella (et est omnium inferior).
(The first is called 'El bagatella' (and is the lowest of all).
The expression 'il Bagattino', already in use by players of Bologna, seems to mean a man of nothing, as in the love sonnet to Mamma Riminaldi:
Però dee creder fermamente ognuno / Ch’un spirito malvagio habbia costej / Sopposta solamente al Bagatino
(But everyone ought to firmly believe / That an evil spirit has her / Following only the Bagatino.) 10
______________________
10. See Tarocchi, p. 108.
Then he goes on to talk about the Popess, Pope, etc. There is a part of this passage that I really like: he is looking at actual cards from the period and actual sentences using the word in an appropriate context. Frequently people still neglect one or the other of these types of sources. It is just the details that I object to.

First, the preacher is simply stating its place in the order, the lowest. Whether he has a double meaning in mind must be confirmed by some other means. It is not ruled out.

Second, in the poem about "Bagatino" here is the rest of the sonnet (Italian from Dummet p. 213, translatio from http://marygreer.wordpress.com/2011/04/ ... stern-art/):
Però dee creder fermamente ognuno
Ch’un spirito malvagio habbia costej
Sopposta solamente al Bagattino,
Per poter dire i buon tarocchi mej
Saran, s’avien ch’io giuochi, et de questi uno
Vo trare il Matto che è cervel divino.

(But surely everybody ought to believe
An evil spirit, following only the Bagatino,
Must possess this woman in order for her
to be able to say: “the good tarot shall be
mine, to be able to play as I please, and I draw
this one, the Fool, who is the brain divine.)
That sounds like a Magician to me, if he can command evil spirits. (Notice also his explanation of the Fool!)

For that word "Bagatino" there is also another tarot appropriati, Ferrara 1540, assigning each of the triumphs to a particular lady (http://www.tarock.info/bertoni.htm, http://www.tarotforum.net/archive/index ... 41639.html):
Il Bagatino
La S. Genevra Calcagnina. - Consiste nel giocar presto con mani.

(Il Bagatino
Genevra Calcagnina. - The game of her hands is quick.)
That is a shell-game artist, or sleight-of-hand conjurer.

It is true that some report that a Bagattino was a small coin in Venice (http://www.etimo.it/?cmd=id&id=1810&md= ... 8a6dfa6220, which that source derives from baca, berry, hence a small object); but if so I don't see the connection to this use. Nothing small is implied in these sentences. There are too many other possible histories of the word that work better, which I will quote later.

Then there is one of Folengo's sonnets, with English translation by Anne Mullaney (http://www.folengo.com/Chaos%20with%20English%20DRAFT%20Feb%2017%202014.pdf, p. 140
Questa fortuna al mondo è 'n Bagattella,
ch'or quinci altrui solleva, or quindi abbassa.
Non è Tempranzia in lei, però fracassa
la forza di chi nacque in prava Stella.

This Fortune is a Magician,
who first lifts someone up, then brings him down.
There is no Temperance in her, so, she shatters
the Strength of anyone born under a bad Star.
This Bagatella is not exactly a "trifle", or "person of nothing", unless you consider bad Fortune a trifle, as Folengo eventually will.

There is also this stanza in a poem of 1298, translated by Marco Ponzi (viewtopic.php?f=12&t=764#p11030):
I leave to you wicked fortune
who acts like a bagattella:
whenever she seems most beautiful,
she slips away like an eel.
This is a person who changes her shape, as sorceresses were good at doing (or appearing to do, in Orlando Furioso). The meaning would seem to be "sorceress", someone able to change things from good to bad and vice versa. However it might be a slight of hand artist, too (things on top going to the bottom, etc.), or a quick-talker, who is able to make fakes seem real.

These last four lines come from the philologist and historian Muratori (posted by Ross on the same thread, at viewtopic.php?f=12&t=764#p11028), which also quotes a 1398 Latin sentence on a history of bishops, which ends:
. . . Cognomine vocatus el Bagatella, propter ejus cavillationes umbratiles & pueriles , vel quod illam artem noverit Bagattandi.
Here I notice that "Bagatella" takes the masculine article "el", as it does for the preacher of the Steele Sermon. The whole passage in Muratori is translated admirably by Marco (viewtopic.php?f=12&t=764#p11041). After first arguing against a derivation from "bacca" meaning "berry" and then getting attached to pearls, which he calls "pure fantasy") Muratori gives his own conjecture:
If you ask me the origin of that word, I have not found anything reliable: I can only propose a conjecture. The Arabic language has a word “Bakatta”, which adapted to Italian becomes “Bagattare”. According to Gollio, it means “to hurry when speaking or walking”. In Modena they say “Abbagattare” for the Florentine “Acciabattare” [to shuffle?]. The Arabs have one more similar verb, that is “Bagata”, with a single T. It means “to mix food, to confound business or speech”. It is not unlikely that the Italians borrowed “Bagattare”, as they did for many other words, from the Arabs or Saracens, who once ruled on Sicily and Calabria and had much commerce throughout our country. [So the Italians] called trifles and the tricks and games of jugglers “Bagattelle”. Paolo Scordilla wrote “the Lives of the Archbishops of Ravenna” in 1398 ca. At Par.I, Book II, pg. 214 (Rerum Italicarum Scriptores) he writes: “the sower of such discord was Servideus, formerly cantor in that church, known by the nickname 'el Bagatella', on account of his shadowy and childish banter, or as one who knows the art of 'bagattare'”. In 1298 ca, brother Jacopone da Todi, wrote in his Satire I:
"I leave to you wicked fortune
who acts like a Bagattella."
I cannot find anything better.
I would add only that the word that Marco translates as "jugglers" is "Cantambanchi". Here "banchi" means "bench" or "platform", and "cantam" is the past participle of the Latin "cantus", meaning "sing" or "recite". So it is in fact either the salesman or the performer who distracts us with his banter.

I haven't found any modern source mentioning these alleged Arab words; otherwise, he is useful for his 1398 and 1298 examples.

In French, Le Grand Robert), 1985, tells us, the word is "saltimbanque", from Italian "saltimbanco", in both cases meaning "jump on bench". The English "Mountebank" is a good approximation. Another word for a saltimbanque, Le Grand Robert tells us, is banquiste, meaning the person who introduces and praises the performers. It means much the same as the French word "Bateleur", except that that word has a very particular derivation, which I will get to in a moment.

The Grand Robert for "Bagatelle" has
---1547, N. du Fait; Ital. bagatella "tour de bateleur" du lat. Baca, "baie".
"Tour" in this context means "trick", so a Bateleur's trick. This "baca" is "berry" ("baie").again, the derivation that Muratori rejected (although not persuasively, because what he rejected was an alleged meaning as "pearl").

So there seem to be two historical meanings: one, the person who does tricks, and the other, a small object, perhaps not worth much, like the coin. Because of these two meanings, the figure is appropriate as the lowest card. From Folengo and the 1298 poem, however, there is also a sense of someone who has more power to create illusions than a mere slight of hand artist. '

In addition, Robert indicates that "bagatelle" is used with the opposite meaning, as an ironical expression. Similarly, it seems to me, in the game the card is one of the highest point-getters, and in trick-taking power, while the lowest of the triumphs, nonetheless has more power than any of the Kings.

For "Bateleur", I looked for pre-modern uses of the term. Robert says:
XIIIe basteleur, jusqu'au XVIe, d l'anc. franç baastel "Instrument d'escamoteur" (--2. Beteler) orig. incertaine
An "escamoteur" is a conjurer, in the sense of someone who engages in escamoter, making things disappear (http://www.cnrtl.fr/lexicographie/escamoter). So a "baasteleur" is someone who uses that instrument, i.e. a wand-wielder.

The escamoteur's instrument is also called a bâton and a baguette, which is a ""petit bâton", a small baton, Robert says. A "tour de bâton" is "profit secret, ristourne illicite". "Tour" means "trick" in modern French, in this context, so "trick of the wand"..

For the word "baguette" Robert has " n. f. --1510, Carloix; ital. bacchette, de bacchio "bâton" lat. baculum". For the second meaning it has "emplois speciaux: a: baguette magique, baguette de fée; "fée" means a fairy. The Latin "baculum" means "walking stick, rod, scepter". Could "bagatella" derive from "baculum" rather than "baca"? If so, there would a direct connection to the stick that he carries. But probably not: "bagatella" has a second "a" that "baca" has but not "baculum". However the word "Bateleur" does seem to have the connection to that stick, according to Robert

Then the meaning became more general. For the broader meaning of "bateleur", Robert gives a great number of persons who in modern French qualify as a bateleur (although always describing the past): in general, any of those people who got up on stages in the town squares to attract crowds by their antics, but including also charlatans, meaning people who sold health and other (e.g. love) remedies. The clerics who wrote the books considered them worthless, but if everybody thought that, they wouldn't have been in business. Evelyn Welch in Shopping in the Renaissance (2005) says that "the traveling charlatan sold many of the same items as the traditional pharmacist" (p. 57)

Dummett seems to think that the items on the Bagatella's table are for sale ("merchandise"). It is true that the main object of the Mountebank was to sell things. But on most decks these look to me more like the tools of his trade as a prestidigitator.

The connection between magic tricks and the sale of dubious medicines is explained by Welch. I have uploaded this page, which also has on it an engraving of saltimbancos in Venice, at http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Bv7C-2zN210/U ... elch57.JPG). If the charlatan sold some of the same remedies as the apothecary, the difference was in the performance (and, I would think, the notion that the seller was a traveler from somewhere else, selling goods that might not be available elsewhere). This created the danger of "being overcome by the pleasure and excitement that came from the performance of salesmanship" (pp 59f). But also, there was the element of magic. Welch quotes from an observer of a Spaniard (a traveler from elsewhre) who sold paper prayers, which he claimed could bring about miracles (p. 57, uploaded at link above). To prove his point, he entered hot ovens carrying unbaked bread; it came out done and he none the worse. Also, he put his hands in hot oil (presumably he had fried a few things) and put lit tapers of flame in his mouth. Viewing such spectacles, a person might be more inclined to believe in the efficacy of the powder he bought there than if he bought it in a shop. Today we know about the "placebo effect"; placebos are in fact good medicine (they do the trick, as we say) in a certain number of cases, deceptive or not.

In the engraving that Welch shows, nobody looks like any of the fellows on the cards. Perhaps he was considered too disreputable to allow in the main center of tourism in Venice. Or the artist didn't want to show so common an image.

Dummett ignores Piscina's and Alciati's names for the card, both of which mean "innkeeper". In that sense, what he is holding would be a quill pen, and the table is his desk or a place where he sells drinks (hence coins and cups). That term is relevant in as much as I have not been able to find images comparable to the Bagatella in earlier art except in two contexts: an inn in which drinks are sold (see viewtopic.php?f=11&t=937&start=70#p15114), and Jupiter as a priest at an altar, or a judge (which I will talk about later in this post). Perhaps in Milan he was seen as an innkeeper, but in Ferrara as a slight of hand artist. What the PMB figure holds does look somewhat like a quill. Which is a misreading of which is hard to say.

Then there is the question of the larger symbolism of the figure, from its position situated at the beginning of the sequence (in every known list). In the 1520s, in a frontispiece depicting an ancient text called the Tablet of Cebes, a magus-looking figure holding up a stick was put at the entrance to a walled city that is symbolic of our life on earth (see my post at viewtopic.php?f=11&t=937&p=14136#p14102). In his other hand he holds a piece of paper, probably the same as what we see, so that the soul (here a naked child) will know, even if not remembering, the pitfalls to come. One might wonder if the analogy was to the beginning of a card game; we are all dealt different cards in life, predetermined by the shuffle, and winning, i.e. going to heaven, is a matter of overcoming the bad and using the good. The game is as instructive as the piece of paper that the figure holds in his hand.

Likewise the tricks of the Saltimbanco were often presented as instruction, for example, proof of the existence of miracles, at least in the sense of unexplained phenomena that depend partly on the belief of the person performing them, e.g. the man impervious to heat that Welch cites. Even Jesus's miracles were meant as instruction.

Comparing life to a card game, there is also the analogy of the four suit signs to the four elements (often made then, although in different ways), and thus the dealer as a kind of unwitting Platonic Demiurge (or Logos of the Gospel of John), mixing the elements that determine our world, by which the soul may prove itself worthy of heaven. The four suit signs were often right there on the Bagato's table, in the PMB and Tarot de Marseille.

I do not think that any of this symbolism is hidden. It is just Platonistically tinged Roman Catholicism. The PMB figure also looks somewhat like a priest at the mass, what with the object covered by a cloth at one side. Seznec shows pictures of Jupiter as a monk administering the eucharist (http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/61 ... 29.jpg.jpg); Panofsky has one that he says is Jupiter as judge, but it certainly looks much like a priest at an altar to me (http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/61 ... 9.jpg.jpg; for the reference see viewtopic.php?f=11&t=937&p=13784&hilit=Jupiter+monk#p13784). This is not a hidden allusion, but suggested by the PMB depiction. What was on the card had a certan ambiguity, even then.

Finally, I need to honor one version of the card from which there are survivors suggesting at least an early 18th century origin: he is now an artisan wearing an apron (http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v63_BEJlKY8/U ... lisCob.JPG). The card is from Vercelli in Piedmont, Depaulis tells us (in his article "I Tarocchi Piemontese", in Costello dei Tarocchi), c. 1850. Another version is at http://eno-tarot.blogspot.com/2012/03/a ... tarot.html, c. 1835, it says. This site describes him as "an artisan, probably a cobbler" and says it is from Serravalle-Sesia, which is a town in Vercelli. This characterization might explain why in some North Italian dialects the word "bagatt" means "cobbler", an observation Marco opened the other discussion with (viewtopic.php?f=12&t=764#p10900). He is no longer a trickster or a magus but rather an honest artisan. Perhaps the same impulse that sometimes removed the Popess, the Pope, the Devil, and the Tower also removed the Bagatella, replacing him with an honest laborer.
Next Dummett considers the "supreme spiritual and temporal powers" (p. 417) :
Il Papa, l’Imperatore, VImperatrice e la Papessa rappresentano, naturalmente, i supremi poteri spirituali e temporali. Non ci sono dubbi sulla loro identità: il Papa e la Papessa indossano quasi sempre la tiara papale, mentre l’Imperatore e l’Imperatrice reggono quasi sempre scudi con l’aquila imperiale. Le figurette di fronte al Papa sul Tarocco di Marsiglia rappresentano dei cardinali; sono visibili più distintamente nella versione di Viéville.

(The Pope, the Emperor, the Empress and the Popess, are, of course, the supreme spiritual and temporal powers. There is no doubt about their identity: the Pope and the Popess are almost always wearing the papal tiara , and the Emperor and Empress almost always hold shields with the imperial eagle. The small figures in front of the Pope on the Tarot of Marseilles represent cardinals; they can be seen more clearly in the version of Viéville.)
The eagle was not on some of the early cards, for example the Rosenwald and "Charles VI". Its significance seems to have been that the card was from a place whose rulers considered themselves vassals of the Holy Roman Emperor. It is a feature that suggests a Milanese origin for the Eagle, (theoretically Ferrarese, but only in ruling Modena and Reggio) or else a card of ultimately German origin (e.g. from Kaiserspiel, which had a Pope as well). As for the Pope card, the cardinals first appear on the Charles VI and are significantly absent from the Milanese. Usually there are two. Dummett mentions a third cardinal in his discussion of the Tarot de Marseille, in a list of "variant" depictions (p. 317):
(4) Il Papa (V) non tiene nella mano sinistra una triplice croce, bensì una verga sormontata da un globo e da un vessillo; ci sono tre cardinali.

((4) The Pope (V) does not hold in his left hand a triple cross, but a rod surmounted by a globe and a banner; there are three cardinals.)
Such cards are the Dodal (http://www.tarot-history.com/Jean-Dodal/pages/05.html) or Payen (http://www.tarot.org.il/Payen/), whose arm reaches from the lower right margin. Dummett does not discuss a possible meaning for this third cardinal. However it is not inappropriate to think of reasons for additional figures, within an overall design and the context of the times. The time of the late Tarot T de M I (Dodal) and the TdeM II was that of the rise of secret societies, secret so as to avoid the eyes and ears of the Inquisition. Friendly monarchs sometimes overlooked discreet dabblers in the occult. So this figure might suggest an initiation master, and the two "cardinals" candidates sworn to secrecy. In Mozart's Magic Flute, the High Priest Sorastro approves the candidates (Tamino and Papageno), but they are guided through the initiation by a lower priest. In that case the rest of the cards would have to say something about the initiation, but in a way that could be plausibly denied by the card maker should the Inquisitors come calling. Even the "third cardinal" himself could be denied if needed, as the card makers could say that the hand was that of the cardinal we see and the so-called arm is actually a fold in his garment. In the Tarot de Marseille of Conver (third from left at http://leefitzsimmons.com/esotericon/im ... Trumps.png), there is an additional fold in the fabric next to the hand, suggestive of a dagger. Death was the usual penalty told to secret society Initiates. Such ambiguous details might have made these cards popular among Masons and others.

The Pope was invariably higher than the Popess, Emperor and Empress. That clearly signifies that the Pope was higher in authority than these others. This might have been one reason for the game's lack of popularity in Germany (until the Pope was removed altogether, as in the Besencon and the "animal" tarocks), since the German princes, even while Catholic, probably resented having to get the Pope's approval for their Emperor. In a previous period it had even been the other way around, the Emperor appointing the Pope (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Concordat_of_Worms). The requirement of the journey to Rome was abolished in 1508 (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/King_of_the_Romans).

Dummett says that the only problematic one of the four is the Popess (p. 418):
La Papessa è l’unica delle quattro carte che presenti qualche problema. Non c’è dubbio che venne inserita per spirito satirico, sebbene sia sempre ritratta in atteggiamento serio: abbiamo visto che spesso sia lei che il suo compagno sono stati eliminati dai mazzi. La leggenda della Papessa Giovanna, una donna travestita da uomo che, eletta Papa nell’854, avrebbe regnato per due anni e mezzo fra papa Leone V e Benedetto III, era ampiamente accettata nel Medioevo e nel Rinascimento; secondo alcune versioni l’impostura fu scoperta solo quando diede alla luce un bambino. La leggenda ebbe origine nel tardo XI secolo e, sebbene priva di fondamento storico, fu ripresa da molti autori di cronache, fra cui parecchi Domenicani; non pare che fosse considerata particolarmente sconveniente, anche se verrà usata più tardi nella propaganda protestante. Il più antico esempio pervenutoci di questa carta è quello del mazzo Visconti-Sforza — l’unico esempio superstite di questo soggetto dipinto a mano. Gertrude Moakley ha messo in evidenza che la figura sulla carta Visconti-Sforza sembra rappresentare Sorella Manfreda, una parente dei Visconti, che era stata effettivamente eletta papa dalla setta eretica dei Gugliel-miti a cui apparteneva e che fu arsa sul rogo nel 1300. E pertanto possibile che sia stato nel mazzo Visconti-Sforza che la Papessa fece la sua prima apparizione, sostituendo presumibilmente un qualche altro soggetto (forse la virtù mancante della Prudenza).

(The Popess is the only one of the four cards that presents any problem. No doubt it was inserted in a satirical spirit, though she is always portrayed in a serious attitude: we have seen that often she and her partner were removed from the decks. The legend of Pope Joan, a woman disguised as a man, elected Pope in 854, who reigned for two and a half years between Pope Leo V and Benedict III, was widely accepted in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance; according to some versions, the fraud was discovered only when she gave birth to a child. The legend originated in the late eleventh century and, although of no historical foundation, was taken up by many authors of chronicles, including several Dominicans; it does not appear to have been thought particularly inconvenient, even if it will be used later in Protestant propaganda. The oldest extant example of this card is that of the Visconti-Sforza deck - the only surviving example of this subject painted by hand. Gertrude Moakley pointed out that the figure on the Visconti-Sforza card seems to represent Sister Manfreda, a relative of the Visconti, who was actually elected Pope by the heretical sect of Guglielmites to which she belonged and who was burned at the stake in 1300. It is herefore possible that it was in the Visconti-Sforza deck that the Popess made her first appearance, presumably by substituting for some other subject (perhaps the missing virtue of Prudence).
It is sometimes objected that it cannot be Pope Joan because she was always pictured with the child. Actually, some didn't, but just had her with a book, with perhaps her lover looking in; Ross posted these at viewtopic.php?f=14&t=581&start=20#p8405. Even if the majority do show her with the child, that does not make it a convention. Most of the pictures, with or without child, are all later than the first known card.

Dummett does not discuss the various literary references to "Papessa". That of the Steele Sermon tends to confirm the "Pope Joan" interpretation:
4 La papessa (O miseri quod negat Christiana fides): The Popesse ("O wretches! That which the Christian Faith denies.")
as well as that in Aretino's in Le Carte Parlante (http://www.letarot.it/page.aspx?id=163&lng=ENG, http://www.letarot.it/page.aspx?id=163&lng=ITA)
CARTE: La papessa è per l’astuzia di quegli che defraudano il nostro essere con le falsità che ci falsificano.
PADOVANO: Forse che trasandate.

(CARDS: The Popess means the shrewdness of those who defraud our being with falsehoods that falsify us.
PADUAN: Maybe they’re neglected.)
And here is the "appropriati" of Ferrara 1540 (http://www.tarotforum.net/archive/index ... 41639.html):
La Papessa
Isabella Vincenza. - She asks mercy for the mischievous.
Again, Pope Joan. This is of course someone's interpretation. There is nothing in the picture to suggest that it is her in particular. So nothing can be inferred about the intention of the artist. Nor can it be inferred from the place in the Ferrarese sequence, next to the Pope in fourth position, as opposed to second position elsewhere. But from the consistency of Ferrarese interpretations, it seems to have been attached firmly to the card. Is it thereby wrong?

Here I would appeal to Petrarch on interpretation, as related by Murrin in The Cambridge Companion to Allegory,describing Boccaccio and Petrarch (p. 165):
Boccaccio assumed he could recover Dante's intention in the Commedia, but both writers agreed that an ancient poet's intention could not be recovered. In that case, Petrarch said he would not give the opinions of others. New readings are acceptable as long as the letter brings them and they are true. One must allow the possibility that the author had another reading in mind.
By "true" Petrarch meant various things: a good moral sentiment, a true psychological insight; an application to events in one's own experience, or to specific individuals in history or legend (see my quotes from Murrin at viewtopic.php?f=23&t=385&start=100#p14232. Thus Pope Joan is a worthy example of what happens to people who deceive the Church and misuse its institutions. This does not exclude other interpretations that fit his criteria.

Starting in 1522, the image on the card was used by Protestants to imply that the Pope of Rome was the Whore of Babylon (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whore_of_B ... tament.jpg). Catholics responded: if they could not get rid of the image (as in Minchiate), they would use it to represent the Church as the Pope's spouse, probably drawing on St. Thomas Aquinas and other medieval documents, a few pre-tarot frescoes of the Church with a papal tiara in churches, and a somewhat similar representation of Faith by Giotto in c. 1305 Padua. Whether these pre-tarot characterizations, never called "Papessa", had anything to do with the original image is unknown. Likely the Giotto did, because it was famous. But that is simply the re-use of an old image in an new context. The title "Papessa" most readily suggests a woman who is the female equivalent of the Pope, no more the name of an institution or a practice than what is denoted by the other three terms.

Checking in the dictionaries, I see that Le Grand Robert says:
PAPESSE n. 1 -- V. 1450; du lat. médiéval papisse. de papa -- Papa.
Femme pape (selon la légende). La papesse Jéanne es un personnage mythique.
Par ext. Femme détenant les pouvoirs d'un chef religieux.
"Et quel est le chef de la religion (anglicane)? -- Oh! c'est sa gracieuse majesté, c'est notre reine d'Angleterre. --Mais c'est une charmante papesse (..)."
Nerval, Voyage en Orient, "Femmes du Caire", VII.iii.
The card might be their reference for "1450". The quote clearly sees the head of the heretical Church of England as a Popess, probably to make fun of that Church. Since the work appeared in 1851 and was about voyages in 1839-1840, the queen of England would be Victoria, who ascended to the throne in 1837.

In the Oxford English Dictionary, for "papess" we have:
Etymology: < French papesse (mid 15th cent.in Middle French, 14th cent. in Anglo-Norman) < pape pope n.1 + -esse -ess suffix1. Compare Italian papessa (1545; glossed by Florio (1611) ‘a shee-pope, a pope-Ione’), Spanish papisa (1453–67 as papissa ), post-classical Latin papissa (13th cent.).
No specific reference is given for any of these. I assume that they would refer to Pope Joan. The first quote is 1620:
1620 Bp. J. Hall Honor Married Clergie ii. ix. 196 Was the Historie of that their monstrous Papesse of our making?
For "Popess" we have, giving the quotes only to 1700:
A female pope; (also occas.) the wife of a pope. Also in extended use. Often used with reference to the legendary Pope Joan (see Pope Joan n.).
1529 T. More Dialogue Heresyes iii, in Wks. 227/2 But were I Pope. By my soule quod he, I would ye wer, & my lady your wife Popesse too.
?1567 Def. Priestes Mariages (new ed.) 272 That Leo whiche, as some saye, preceaded next to that holie Popesse our countrey woman.
1624 J. Vicars tr. G. Goodwin Babels Balm 13 O! What a Head did then Christs Temple guide? When a faire Popesse did i'th' Chaire reside?
1677 W. Hughes Man of Sin ii. xii. 239 His Farewell to her was, Were you but Popess, I would willingly relinquish my Claim. ...
When not referring directly to Pope Joan, it seems here to have the sense of "female counterpart of the Pope", as a kind of Matriarch (of Rome) to the Pope as Patriarch (of Rome); since More's use is in a kind of jest spoken by a knight, no actual existence is presumed. Given that More uses the term in a generic sense, it might suggest that the tarot was known then, 1529, in the English court. The passage at p. 227 is at the end of the page, http://digital.ub.uni-duesseldorf.de/ih ... iew/508191, but it is imbedded in a long work not easy to read.

The Moakley interpretation that Dummett endorses is of interest because it seems to be confirmed by no literary sources. The published legends about the Guglielmites do not mention her. Nor is there any hint that they chose one of their number to be Popess. It is only in a copy of an Inquisition record that was found in a butcher's shop in Pavia during the 17th century. It has been deemed authentic, and from its location in Pavia it is presumed to have at one time been in the Visconti Library and somehow escaped the eyes of the looting French during the 16th century. As such Moakley, and apparently Dummett, assume it to have been available to the Visconti and their descendants, i.e. Bianca Maria Sforza. This assumption seems to me reasonable. Visconti over several generations had been named in papal bulls as Guglielmites and hence heretics. The Visconti heirs needed to know as much as possible.

So here it is the intention of the designer that becomes of paramount importance, given that the PMB has the first known occurrence of that card. Even the artist might not have known this association to the image. It is of necessity a secret meaning, since if the Church found out they might start questioning people. So Dummett does not mind secret meanings in this particular case. Other than her being a Visconti, the main reason for preferring her, and Joan, is simply that these names correspond to persons rather than an abstract institution.

That she actually had the title of Pope for the sect is not clear. In the trial itself, the testimony apparently was that although she had been elected, she would be Pope when the present one was overthrown. Charles Lea in his History of the Inquisition of the Middle Ages, Vol. 3, p. 99), following Ogniben, theorizes that when the Archbishop started questioning whether Manfreda etc. should really be burned, the inquisitors got more testimony to the effect that she was already Pope and that the existing Church officials, including Archbishops, were not legitimate (for the quote see viewtopic.php?f=11&t=917&p=14785&hilit=Lea#p14785). That would have motivated the indignant Archbishop to approve the burnings. Whatever the exact beliefs about the existing hierarchy, it is clear that she was acknowledged at least as Pope-elect by her followers.

In the sequence, the Popess is sometimes second and sometimes fourth. Why the difference? It is possible that she was made second so as to associate her with the Bagatto, a disreputable trickster. Or she was made fourth to put her, symbolizing the Church, higher than the Emperor. Otherwise the Empress and Emperor "triumph" over her, when in fact these personages were considered by the Papacy as subject to the Church, by the same reasoning that made the Emperor subject to the Pope. Or it may be that the position has nothing to do with her per se, but rather with that of the card that she replaced, Prudence. The book and staff were traditional attributes of Prudence, and also Wisdom. Decker in his recent book says there are a dozen references to Prudence with a book in Adolf Katzenellenbogen, Allegories of the Virtues and Vices in Medieval Art (London: Warburg Institute, 1939). I checked and he's right; Sapientia has 3, Faith 1 (for a "book-casket), and Pietas 1. The earliest one has her with a cross-staff and a book, precisely as in the PMB card (Huck posted the illumination, http://www.public.asu.edu/~cschleif/5a%20small.jpg, at viewtopic.php?f=12&t=971&p=14268&hilit=Katzenellenbogen#p14270). It is in a commentary on Proverbs Book 8. There we learn that she was at God's side from the beginning (Douay-Rheims translation of the Vulgate):
22 The Lord possessed me in the beginning of his ways, before he made any thing from the beginning.
23 I was set up from eternity, and of old before the earth was made. ...
30 I was with him forming all things: and was delighted every day, playing before him at all times;
31 Playing in the world: and my delights were to be with the children of men.
Such imagery could have been an original motivation for the Popess card Decker points out that Wisdom as a feminine personification also corresponds with the numerological significance of the number 2. He says it is in Philo of Alexandria; I couldn'[t find it there, but I fund something like it in the ancient Latin author Martianus Capella, in The Marriage of Mercury and Philology: 2 is "Juno or Wife or Sister of the Monad" (p. 277 at http://books.google.com/books?id=nZ-Z9e ... er&f=false). The significance of the number 1 was Jupiter or the mind of God (see footnote at bottom of page). Are these "hidden meanings"? Not any more than any other. Capella was much read, and easily accessible in Latin. Humanists would have been happy to show off their erudition by quoting it.

There was surely an original card with an original meaning. But since we know nothing about the original circumstances of the deck, we really don't know anything about the original intent. It may have been meant to refer to the Pope's mistress or even wife. (Some of the early popes were married, including Peter, mentioned in the gospels: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Healing_th ... r%27s_wife). At present we have no way of knowing.

If the Popess was originally meant satirically as the Pope's mistress, would that negate the meaning "Manfreda" for the PMB? I don't see how. Artists and their patrons reuse images for new purposes. If the purpose was to instruct the young Sforza children about their heritage, then that is what the card means in that context. If a card maker is merely copying what someone else has done, then the meaning has to go back to what he is copying. If someone such as Dodal puts the title "Pances" on an identical image (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tarot_of_Marseilles), and "Pances" means "belly" (as in "paunch") that is going to suggest that the lady is pregnant as well as being a Popess. That is an example of a card getting a new meaning. Since the is also dressed in blue and red, the traditional colors of the Virgin, we might think he meant the Virgin at the time of the Annunciation, when she was indeed holding a book in numerous representations of the scene. But it is not said. The artist may have been simply copying the colors from another source and now thinking of Pope Joan and her baby.

It is true that there is such a thing as a wrong interpretation of a work of art. To interpret the painting of Washington crossing the Delaware, the one in the National Gallery in Washington, D.C., as Napoleon escaping from Elba, for example, would be wrong. But if someone used a version of that image as an illustration for a story about Napoleon, it would in fact be Napoleon escaping from Elba, a somewhat humorous one for one who knew the painting. If it just appeared without explanation in a collection of images, in no set order, it again depends on context and history, both inside and outside the work in which it is imbedded.

THE MIDDLE SECTION OF THE SEQUENCE

Here is what Dummett says about the Love card (p. 418):
Non occorrono molte spiegazioni per l’Amore. In tutte le versioni c’è una coppia di innamorati e Cupido in alto che punta con l’arco su di loro. A volte ci sono altre figure, a volte no. La terza figura che compare sulla versione del Tarocco di Marsiglia non sembra esìstesse nella carta incompleta del foglio della collezione Cary.

(We do not need much explanation for Love. In all versions there is a loving couple and cupid above with a bow pointing at them. Sometimes there are other figures, sometimes not. The third figure that appears on the version of the Marseilles Tarot card does not seem to exist in the incomplete Cary collection sheet.)
But why is the CY image definitive? Is it then a misrepresentation if someone leaves off the banners at the top of the card, or the dog at the bottom? Or Cupid's blindfold?  Although irrelevant for playing the game, they all contribute to the meaning of that card. In some versions, there is a priest. Those cards are saying something about love, that it expresses itself in marriage. Is that a misinterpretation, or simply a new way of presenting the image with a more clearly defined meaning, considering that some cards, of which the "Charles VI" is an example, seem not to connect it with marriage? The CY seems to present love in terms of the families being joined, via their heraldics. Are we disregard the heraldics in understanding that card?

In the Tarot de Marseille design, the third person on the card, a priest in Vieville, is more ambiguous. We don't know if it is male or female, but it looks more female. This affords new interpretations. It couild be the choice of Hercules, a popular subject of art then and since the 15th century, and one that would have appealed to the secret societies as a subject for an initiation (so the blindfold is off, with Cupid a kind of executioner if the person makes the wrong choice). Or she could be a priestess and the scene a pagan marriage. Ricci did a painting very similar to this card with the third person as a Maenad and the marriage that of Bacchus and Ariadne (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catullus_6 ... ci_008.jpg). This again is a theme that had been popular since the 15th century, and especially with Alfonso in Ferrara. I think all we can do is take note, without saying what is an error and what is not in this new circumstance.

Another thing that needs explaining is how Love between a man and a woman triumphs over, or in any way follows after, the Pope. The usual explanation is that another story starts here. Since this break also coincides with the purely formal division between the first and second sections common to the A, B, and C orders, this is a reasonable explanation. The previous story was about the "ranks of men", a popular topic, as evidenced by the "Tarot of Mantegna" and also an early frontispiece to Petrarch's De Remidiis. To please the ladies, instead of the middle ranks it includes the female equivalents of the two highest. I can think of two other possibilities. First, the earlier story was one that came from the game of Emperors. What comes next has a different organizing principle. The second possibility is that we are not to interpret the cards here, meaning from the beginning through at least this Love card, as an ascent, as it were, up a ladder, each triumphing over the one before, but as a descent, starting from God and descending into material life, a descent from the most spiritual to the least spiritual, a descent that is also a progression from spirit into matter. Decker takes this approach in a book he published recently, The Esoteric Tarot (2013), giving the sequence a 7x7x7 structure. It might be objected that this is not how the groups divide. But Dummett's division into groups, since it is determined by noting differences among orders, only occurs when the designers in the one region do something different from what was done in the region they got the subjects from. We have no idea how that earlier designer divided the cards. All the same, there does seem to be a clear change in the type of subject: from professions, however chosen, to abstractions, for which there are allegorical equivalents. That would tend to confirm Dummett's division here.

Let us move on to the virtues. Dummett is on familiar ground until he gets to the wings (p. 418f):
La Giustizia, la Fortezza e la Temperanza rappresentano, naturalmente, tre delle quattro virtù cardinali. La scelta di queste tre virtù, insieme alla Prudenza, quali virtù da cui dipendono tutte le altre è dovuta a Platone. Fu presa molto sul serio dai teologi della morale cattolica. Per costoro si tratta delle virtù naturali, il cui manifestarsi non dipende necessariamente dalla grazia; le sette virtù principali consistono in que-[end of 418]ste più le tre virtù teologali di Fede, Speranza e Carità indicate da San Paolo e per le quali è essenziale la grazia. Rappresentazioni simboliche delle virtù — molto spesso queste sette, ma talvolta con omissioni o con raggiunta di un’ottava, per esempio la Costanza — erano, naturalmente, assai comuni nel Medioevo e nel Rinascimento in Italia e altrove: un tardo esempio lo si trova nelle finestre a vetri decorati di Sir Joshua Reynolds nella cappella del New College di Oxford. Le virtù sono sempre rappresentate come figure femminili identificate da vari attributi tradizionali. Un famoso esempio è fornito dagli affreschi di Giotto nella Cappella degli Scrovegni a Padova. Si trovano anche nel Battistero di Bergamo, sulle porte — le Porte del Paradiso — del Battistero di Firenze, nella palazzina di Schìfanoia a Ferrara, in tre luoghi diversi nel Palazzo Ducale di Venezia e in molte altre località. La loro iconografia è abbastanza uniforme. La Giustizia ha sempre una spada e una bilancia. La Fortezza e rappresentata insieme a un leone o a una colonna, spesso spezzata, o a entrambi. Sul mazzo Visconti di Mo-drone e sulle carte Visconti-Sforza, sul foglio Gary, sul Tarocco di Marsiglia e su tutte le carte prodotte fuori d’Italia, la figura è rappresentata accanto a un leone. Nel gruppo ‘Carlo VI’ e nei tarocchi d’Este, sul foglio Rosenwald e nel Tarocco bolognese, nel Tarocco siciliano e nel modello più tardo delle Minchiate, è rappresentata presso una colonna; nel modello più antico delle Manchiate, ci sono sia la colonna che il leone. Una figura nell’atto di versare da un recipiente in un altro era l’iconografia consueta della Temperanza e la si ritrova in tutte le versioni della carta. Una figura che rappresenta una virtù di solito non ha le ali e non è considerata un angelo. Le ali della figura della Temperanza sulla carta del Tarocco di Marsiglia ebbero quasi certamente origine nell’errata interpretazione, da parte di un fabbricante, dell’alto schienale arrotondato di un sedile. Sul foglio Cary la figura non ha le ali ed è seduta: ritroviamo esattamente lo stesso errore, in data successiva, in versioni lombarde e piemontesi della figura della Giustizia.

(Justice, Fortitude and Temperance are, of course, three of the four cardinal virtues. The choice of these three virtues, along with prudence, as the virtues from which all others depend, is due to Plato. It was taken very seriously by Catholic moral theologians. For them they are the natural virtues, whose occurrence does not necessarily depend on grace; the seven principal virtues consist in these [end of 418] plus the three theological virtues of Faith, Hope and Charity mentioned by St Paul and for which grace is essential. Symbolic representations of the virtues - these seven very often, but sometimes with omissions or reaching an octave, for example, Constancy - were, of course, very common in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance in Italy and elsewhere: a late example is in the stained glass windows by Sir Joshua Reynolds in the chapel of New College, Oxford. The virtues are always represented as female figures identified by various traditional attributes. A famous example is provided by the frescoes of Giotto in the Scrovegni Chapel in Padua. They are also found in the Baptistery of Bergamo, on the doors - the Gates of Paradise - of the Baptistery of Florence, in the Schifanoia Palace in Ferrara, in three different places in the Palazzo Ducale in Venice and in many other locations. Their iconography is fairly uniform. Justice has a sword and a scale. Fortitude is represented with a lion or a column, often broken, or both. In the Visconti di Modrone deck and the Visconti-Sforza cards, on the Cary sheet, the Tarot of Marseilles and all the cards produced outside Italy, the figure is shown next to a lion. In the group 'Charles VI' and in the Tarot d'Este, on the sheet Rosenwald and Bolognese Tarot, Tarot in Sicily and later in the model of the Minchiate, she is represented by a column; in the oldest model of Minchiate, there are both the column and the lion. A figure in the act of pouring from one container to another was the usual iconography of Temperance and is found in all versions of the card. A figure that represents a virtue does not usually have wings and is not considered an angel. The wings of the figure of Temperance card of the Tarot of Marseilles almost certainly originated in the mistaken interpretation by the manufacturer, of the high rounded backrest of the seat. On the Cary sheet the figure does not have wings and is sitting: we find exactly the same error, at a later date, in the Lombardy and Piedmont versions of the figure of Justice.
As I have said, one could hardly mistake the rounded back of the chair of Temperance, in the PMB and "Charles VI" rounded in the center, and in the Cary Sheet rectangular, for wings. All I can think of is that he has confused Temperance with the Empress. In fact the virtues were sometimes represented as winged, e.g. in Venice (viewtopic.php?f=11&t=71&hilit=Venice+virtues+winged&start=30#p1798). The only mystery is why one particular virtue--Temperance, in the Tarot de Marseille, but Justice in a few other French representations. Looking at traditional discussions of the four virtues, it seems (following Aristotle) that moderation was considered one thing that underlay the others; justice was, too (following Plato). Another possibility is that when it appears after the Death card, the virtue is more of a divine being than if it occurs before, and so likely an agent of God (as well as Temperance as a way of taking care of the physical body to stave off death). In the case of Temperance, that would mean God's grace. If the non-TdM representations of Justice owed something to Ferrara, which had Justice second from the highest, then that might be the explanation there as well, as God's justice (even though in these sequences she was 14th). This explanation explains both sets of wings.

Dummett does not go into why Prudence was omitted; he has his theory, which I cannot object to, that it turned into the Popess. Another theory is that Prudence is an intellectual virtue, and the others moral virtues, considered more important for the purpose of the tarot.

He does not discuss is the order in which the virtues occur, of course (since he is only dealing with them individually). One particular order rather than another is sometimes given as a reason for preferring it as "original". In the Republic Plato discussed them in the order Temperance, Fortitude, Wisdom, Justice; and that is the order they come in the A and B orders. The C order follows Cicero; Augustine used both orders (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cardinal_virtues). Aquinas had the C order (http://catholicism.about.com/od/beliefs ... irtues.htm), but again, it probably depends on what you quote from him.

In Game of Tarot Dummett suggested a particular meaning for Justice when it is next to the Angel, that it refers to God's Justice. We might also ask whether there is a special meaning when Temperance comes after Death. Some see a reference to the Eucharist in the mixing of water and wine: the sacraments triumph over death. But if so, why does the Devil follow? For Decker (and many others) this is another break.The Devil card starts a new story. The problem here is that Dummett's purely formal examination of the orders has the break between the Hanged Man and Death. Presumably this is another place the people who came after didn't understand. In my view, given that the formal break happens between Hanged Man and Death, it is better, in the sense of giving the later designers more credit, to have a story that at least goes from Death to the Sun, and better if it also includes Angel and World.

In the A orders, the virtues come one right after the other. In the B order Temperance and Fortitude are separated by two cards, and Justice is second from the end. In the C order each is separated from the one preceding by two cards. Having the three together might mean that in life all three must be practiced at all times. A separation might suggest that different virtues are more important at different times. I would have thought that Temperance would be associated with Love, Justice with the Chariot (as triumphator, but Temperance if it is Chastity), and Fortitude with the Wheel (when adverse) or Hanged Man. The B order fits this except for Justice. The C order fits except for Temperance.

On the Chariot card. Dummet says (p. 419):
Il Carro rappresenta proprio un carro trionfale, sul quale c’è un re o un generale. Cortei trionfali, noti come trionfi, sul modello di quelli dell’antica Roma, erano fra gli svaghi preferiti nel Rinascimento italiano. Nella maggior parte dei casi, assumevano una forma puramente allegorica, talvolta religiosa, [end of talvolta secolare: elaborate raffigurazioni erano disposte su grandi carri da trainare lungo le strade. Talvolta, tuttavia, essi seguivano più da vicino il modello dei trionfi dell’antica Roma: Cesare Borgia mise in scena proprio un trionfo di questo genere dopo la presa di Urbino e re Alfonso entrò a Napoli, nel 1443, su un carro trainato da quattro cavalli bianchi e coperto da un baldacchino di tessuto d’oro. Fra le altre figure del corteo c’erano un carro con la dea Fortuna e le sette virtù a cavallo.

(The Chariot is just a triumphal chariot, on which there is a king or a general. Triumphal processions, known as triumphs, on the model of ancient Rome, were among the favorite pastimes in the Italian Renaissance. In most cases, taking a form purely allegorical, sometimes religious, [end of 419] sometimes secular, elaborate depictions were arranged on large wagons towed along the roads. Sometimes, however, they followed more closely the pattern of the triumphs of ancient Rome: Casare Borgia staged just such a triumph of this kind after the capture of Urbino; and when Alfonso became king in Naples, in 1443, on a chariot drawn by four white horses and covered by a canopy of cloth of gold. Among the other figures of the procession there were a chariot with the goddess Fortuna and the seven virtues riding.)
Here Dummett has ignored the earliest known examples of the card. In the CY, the PMB, and the Issy, it is not a general or other military hero. It is a lady. As such there is a topical reference to a particular lady, such as Bianca Maria Sforza, but also an allegorical reference. Given that it follows the Love card in many orders, it could be Chastity,, as in Petrarch's poem, or a lady in whom Chastity triumphs. Dummett has already declared the Trionfi a reasonable hypothesis for inspiring the sequence. Given the wings on the PMB horse, I would think a reference to the chariots of gods and goddesses (in Plato's Phaedrus would be implied, and of such archetypal perfections as Temperance and Truth. With different colored horses, the colors might be meaningful, as the difference between dark and white are in Plato's myth.

This is not to deny that some versions of the card represented triumphators. It is just that some didn't, including the earliest known. Just as there is no single "game of tarot", as Dummett stated at the beginning of his book, there is no single meaning for this card. It is not that one version is a "misunderstanding". The tarot is not one thing, but many. Just as a word has a different meaning in different contexts, so does the card. Just as the meaning of a word sometimes becomes obsolete, so does the meaning of a card. It does not become "wrong"; it is just different. It is the same as with games. Games with different rules than the ones one prefers are not played "wrongly", but differently. This is not to say that anything goes. In illustrations of Petrarch's Trionfi, it would be wrong to say that all the chariots are of triumphators. In fact none is. The figures on top are all abstract qualities.

This is also not to say, also, that any of this made any difference to the players. To them, a chariot is a chariot, triumphator's or otherwise. But who is on the chariot does make a difference to what is depicted, regardless of whether it is necessary to know it to play the game. This content might contribute to the meaning of the sequence as a whole, as a sequence of "triumphs", one triumphing over another, for someone to contemplate at his leisure.

Dummett has analyzed the differences among games, all called "tarot" or "tarocchi" or "trionfi", and what games not so far documented might have been like, with great subtlety and awareness of alternatives. In my view he should have done the same with meanings.

The Chariot is one of those cards that has widely different places in the order, although all within Dummett's second section. The Bolognese has Chariot before the virtues. The rest of the A or Southern order have it after (http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YlU6F53x-_E/U ... .35+PM.png), but some are before the Wheel and some after. The Bs or Eastern all have it before the Wheel, but between Temperance and Fortitude (http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1EdTAS9Qo6E/U ... .56+PM.png). The Cs or Western also have it before the Wheel, some before the virtues, others before all but Justice (http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rEbZ-DxvUhs/U ... rders2.jpg). How do these variations affect the meaning? It might be to say that certain virtues are needed in order to triumph. Another might say certain virtues are needed after one triumphs. Or it is arbitrary. If the Chariot is after the Wheel, then the triumphator triumphs over fortune or because of fortune. If before, then fortune triumphs negatively over the triumphator because the next cards are unfavorable ones.

Next he discusses the Wheel of Fortune (p. 420f):
The Wheel of Fortune was an extremely popular subject in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. The idea comes from the De Consolatione Philosophiae by Boethius. It is found in several medieval manuscripts; I saw it in high relief on the outer wall of a French church and, as frescoes, inside of two churches in England and one in Sweden. The oldest versions of the card, such as the Brambilla and Visconti-Sforza decks, are perfectly clear; the way they depict the subject agrees exactly with what is found in the Swedish church and in several manuscripts. La Fortuna is standing on her spinning wheel, to which are attached four human figures. One is rising at the left; one at the top, and wears the crown is at the height of his fortune; one on the right is in decline, and the fourth, down, reached the nadir. A rough Latin hexameter is located in at least two medieval sources and bears the words of the four figures in the above order: "Regnabo - Regno - Regnavi - Sum sine regno" ("I will reign – I reign - I reigned – I am without reign"). In the Visconti-Sforza card rolls containing these words come from the mouth of the four figures; the same happens in the 'Budapest' deck of popular Ferrara tarots (of which the Museum of Budapest and the Metropolitan Museum in New York have uncut sheets). The figure of Fortune appears only on the hand-painted cards; Despite her absence, the symbolism has been well preserved in the Bolognese Tarot and Tarot in Sicily. In the Tarot of Marseilles, on the other hand, it has been virtually destroyed. In older versions, the three top figures often wear the ears or tail of an ass; This is to symbolize the stupidity of their worldly ambitions, the satisfaction of which is transient. The intention behind this detail was not to represent the figures on the Wheel as non-human; [end of 420] unfortunately, the French manufacturers were misled and induced to transform them into animals of various species, making completely pointless the entire depiction.)
But is any of the meaning lost by portraying all three as animals? If animals connote stupidity, then the meaning is the same, to the extent they are portrayed as animal. In fact on the Tarot de Marseille II the top and downward-moving figures have human faces (examples at http://leefitzsimmons.com/esotericon/im ... Trumps.png), just as they do, with more human features, in earlier depictions. If the fourth on the ground, in the Metropolitan (see http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lu-6PwakMv0/S ... talian.jpg) is fully human, that means that to be fully human is to be without worldly ambitions.Depictions of the Wheel that fail to include the fourth figure do miss an important feature. Then if the one going up has the head of the ass, that means he is full of stupid ideas. If the one going down has a human head, that means he has learned something about ambition, if only he uses his head and not his lower parts. Ariosto wrote a poem (http://www.letarot.it/page.aspx?id=199&lng=eng):
Quella ruota dipinta mi sgomenta
ch'ogni mastro di carte a un modo finge:
tanta concordia non credo io che menta.

Quel che le siede in cima si dipinge
uno asinello: ognun lo enigma intende,
senza che chiami a interpretarlo Sfinge.

Vi si vede anco che ciascun che ascende
comincia a inasinir le prime membre,
e resta umano quel che a dietro pende.

(That pictured wheel, I own, annoys me sorely,
Which every master paints in the same way,
And such agreement I believe is not a lie,

When that which sits aloft they make an ass.
Now everyone may understand this riddle,
Without the sphinx to interpret;

For, mark well, each, as he climbs,
begins to Assify his upper members,
Those below remaining human still.)
In that sense, only the Metropolitan card (of Ariosto's time and place) gets the full meaning. The original version only counsels as to the instability of power, and could just as well be a lesson to monarchs to be wary of those with ambition. The story of Filippo Visconti and his Wheel of Fortune, together with his beheading of his wife, when she used her position without consulting him, suggests such an interpretation.

Next is the figure of an old man, called Il Gobbo or Il Vecchio in the early lists (p. 421).
L’Eremita è la prima carta la cui interpretazione non è del tutto chiara. In tutte le versioni posteriori, la figura rappresenta un religioso, un eremita o un frate, talvolta con un rosario; in alcuni mazzi del Tarocco di Besangon è chiamato «le Capucin» (il Cappuccino). Questa idea non ha riscontro nei nomi dati alla carta nelle fonti quattro-cinquèncentesche. La figura è sempre anziana, come indica il nome ‘il Vecchio’, e ha sempre un bastone o delle grucce. Nella versione bolognese, già nel foglio Beaux Arts, ha le ali, ma questo tratto manca in tutte le altre versioni ed è forse dovuto a un errore da parte di uno dei primi fabbricanti. Su tutte le versioni dipinte a mano di questa carta che ci sono pervenute — quelle nei mazzi Visconti-Sforza, ‘Carlo VI’ e di Catania — il vecchio regge una clessidra. La reggeva anche nei modelli del Tarocco siciliano, sia nel modello più antico che in quello più recente, finché la ditta Modiano non la trasformò in una lampada a olio. Sulla carta del mazzo delle Minchiate, nei modelli più antichi così come in quelli posteriori, la clessidra non sta in mano alla figura, ma è sospesa, trafitta da una freccia, sopra le spalle del vecchio. In molte versioni, egli porta una lanterna invece di una clessidra: questo vale per il ‘mazzo Budapest’, per la carta antica milanese della Bibliothèque Nationale e per quella nel mazzo di Catelin Geoffroy, oltre che per il Tarocco di Marsiglia. Alcune versioni, come la bolognese, quella del foglio Rosenwald e quella del Tarocco belga, non presentano né la clessidra né la lanterna.

Presumibilmente, uno di questi due tratti era quello originario e cominciò presto ad essere scambiato per l’altro. Teofilo Folengo e Troilo Pomeran chiamano la carta «il Tempo»: se questo è il significato originario, allora il vecchio doveva reggere la clessidra. Ciò concorda con l’interpretazione nel mazzo classicheggiante della collezione Leber. Qui la carta mostra, un uomo barbuto con una falce, ritto con un piede sopra una clessidra. Si tratta presumibilmente di Saturno, l’equivalente romano del dio greco Cronos (identificato con chronos, il tempo), che aveva fra i suoi attributi la falce. Comunque, egli rappresenta il tempo, come indica la scritta «kerum edax», tratta [end of 421] dalla frase di Ovidio «tempus rerum edax» («il tempo, divoratore delle cose»). Questa interpretazione coglie esattamente l’idea da cui ebbe origine la carta: il Tempo rappresenta un soggetto molto meglio definito di un altrimenti ìmprecisato vecchio o anche di un eremita. Nel mazzo di Geoffroy del 1557 il vecchio porta il rosario alla cintura e quindi furono probabilmente i fabbricanti francesi ad attribuirgli per primi un carattere religioso; di questo non c’è alcuna indicazione nelle carte italiane prima dei mazzi settecenteschi derivati dal Tarocco di Marsiglia. È più facile scambiare una clessidra per una lanterna che viceversa: è proprio l’errore che ha commesso la ditta Modiano ài giorni nostri. Dal ‘mazzo Budapest’ e dalla carta della Bibliothèque Nationale, apprendiamo che Terrore era già stato commesso nel tardo Quattrocento; ma possiamo dare per certo che questa carta doveva, in origine, rappresentare il Tempo.

(The Hermit is the first card of which the interpretation is not entirely clear. In all later versions, the figure represents someone in a religious prder, a hermit or a monk, sometimes with a rosary; in some decks of the Tarot of Besancon he is called "le Capucin’. This idea is not reflected in the names given to the card in four 16th century sources. The figure is always old, as the name 'il Vecchio’ indicates, and always has a staff or crutches. In the version of Bologna, already in the Beaux Arts sheet, he has wings, but this part is missing in all the other versions and is possibly due to an error by one of the first manufacturers. On all hand-painted versions of this card that have come down to us - those in the Visconti-Sforza decks, 'Charles VI' and Catania - the old man is holding an hourglass. The holding is also in the models of the Sicilian Tarot, which is the oldest model in the more recent ones, although the so-called Modiano transforms it into an oil lamp. On the card of the Minchiate pack, in the older models as well as the later, the hourglass is not in the figure's hands, but is suspended, pierced by an arrow, above the shoulders of the old man. In many versions, he carries a lantern instead of an hourglass: this applies to the 'Budapest deck', for the old card of the National Library in Milan and the one in the Catelin Geoffroy deck as well as the Tarot of Marseilles. Some versions, such as that of Bologna, the one of the Rosenwald sheet and that of the Belgian Tarot, have neither the hourglass nor the lantern.

Presumably, one of these two traits was the original one, and they soon began to be mistaken for each other. Theophilo Folengo and Troilo Pomeran call the card "Time": if this is the original meaning, then the old man had to hold the hourglass. This agrees with the interpretation of the classical deck in the Leber collection. Here, the card shows a bearded man with a scythe, standing with one foot on an hourglass. It is presumably Saturn, the Roman equivalent of the Greek god Cronos (identified with chronos, time), which had among its attributes the scythe. However, he represents time, as indicated by the inscripton "kerum edax", taken [end of 421] from Ovid's phrase "tempus rerum edax" (time devourer of things). This interpretation captures exactly the idea from which the card originated: Time is a subject much better defined than an otherwise imprecise old man or even a hermit. In the 1557 Geoffroy pack the old man carries a rosary on his belt. and thus the French manufacturers were probably the first to attribute a religious character to him; there is no indication of this in the cards of the first eighteenth-century Italian decks derived from the Tarot of Marseilles. It is easy to mistake an hourglass for a lantern and vice versa: it is precisely the mistake that the Modiano company has committed in our day From the 'Budapest deck' and the card's Bibliotheque Nationale, we learn that the error had already been committed in the late fifteenth century; but we can be sure that this card was originally intended to represent time.)
In Petrarch's Trionfi poem, the Triumph of Time is the fifth of six, occuring almost at the end. In all orders of the tarot, hwoever, he occurs before the Death card. I do not think that counts against the idea that the card comes from the poem. Nor does it mean that the deck designer didn't really know the order of the triumphs there. It is merely a different interpretation of Time. It is not that which defeats Fame, but rather that which defeats the vigor of the military victor or young person triumphing over their passions, and is also the framework in which the Wheel operates, allowing her to perform her tricks. It is in the right place for that allegorical meaning.

While Dummett argues convincingly that the Hermit card originally was Time, that does not mean that the artist mistook an hourglass for a lantern. That would be quite an error, among people for whom attributes were immensely important. It is more likely just a different version of the card. The designer wanted to say something different at this point in the sequence. There are even different ealy titles: "time" sometimes, but more frequently "old man", to show the effects of time. But also with age might come wisdom

This is an important change, to be taken as it is presented to us. It makes the "old man" a wisdom figure when he carries the light, always a symbol of enlightenment in the sense of clarity and understanding. That is already the meaning in the B order 16th century "appropriati" that I quoted earlier (viewtopic.php?f=11&t=1019&start=90). Speaking of his heart, the poet says:
Il Gobbo gli fa luce acciò la Ruota
Per forza lo conduce in man d'Amore...
.
(The Hermit [literally, hunchback] lights its path until the Wheel
with force leads it into the hands of Love...)
In the Tarot de Marseille, there are suns on his robe or in the window, setting or rising. The setting sun means the end of life, but the beginning of a new life after death. The rising sun is the new life, before or after death. In the context of secret societies, he could be an initiatory figure, leading the one undergoing initation toward his new birth. Here the variant spelling, on some versions of the Tarot de Marseille II (e.g. Conver) is significant: "L'Hermite" rather than "L'Ermite" deniably suggests a Hermetic (the cards are at http://www.tarotforum.net/showpost.php? ... stcount=10).

It of course was not a manufacturer's error to include the wings. "Time flies", Tempus fugit, is not a modern saying. On the 1440s Florentine cassonne lids the Triumph of Time typically has wings (http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Petrarch%27s_triumphs).

Next is the Hanged Man (p. 422):
L’Impiccato è parso a molti il più ambiguo e affascinante di tutti i trionfi; è stato ritenuto profondamente misterioso il fatto che, in tutte le versioni tranne la siciliana, la figura sia appesa per il piede anziché per il collo. Il simbolismo, tuttavia, sarebbe stato immediatamente comprensibile per qualsiasi italiano del Rinascimento, data la consuetudine di vituperare i traditori dello stato ritraendoli proprio in questa posizione, cioè appesi per un piede: talvolta, infatti, dopo l’esecuzione, il corpo del traditore veniva appeso in questo modo. Ciò spiega il nome «il Traditore» frequentemente usato nelle fonti antiche. Il papa ordinò che Muzio Attendolo, il condottiero padre di Francesco Sforza, fosse ritratto in questo modo su tutti i ponti e cancelli di Roma con una scritta che lo definiva un traditore. Analogamente, i muri del Bargello di Firenze erano spesso pavesati di ritratti di nemici dello stato appesi a testa in giù; alcuni, ricordati dal Vasari, furono dipinti da Andrea del Castagno e gli valsero l’appellativo di «Andrea degli Impiccati». Gli studi preparatori per questi dipinti si trovano ora alla Galleria degli Uffizi; anche in Botticelli ricorre questo tema. Allo stesso modo, Ludovico il Moro, l’ultimo duca di Milano della famiglia Sforza indipendente da potenze straniere, commissionò un ritratto da esporre sui muri del Castello, in cui Bernardino da Corte, che lo aveva tradito con i Francesi, è raffigurato impiccato per il piede.

(The Hanged Man has seemed to many to be the most ambiguous and fascinating of all the triumphs; the fact that in all versions except the Sicilian, the figure is hanging from the foot rather than by the neck, was felt to be deeply mysterious. The symbolism, however, would be immediately understandable to anyone of the Italian Renaissance, given the customary dishonoring their own state traitors by portraying them in this position, that is, hanging by one foot: sometimes, in fact, after the execution, the body of the traitor was hung in this way. This explains the name "Traitor" frequently used in the ancient sources. The pope ordered that Attendolo Muzio, the leader Francesco Sforza's father, be portrayed in this way on all the bridges and gates of Rome with an inscription describing him as a traitor. Similarly, the walls of the Bargello in Florence were often adorned with portraits of enemies of the state hung upside down; some, mentioned by Vasari, were painted by Andrea del Castagno and earned him the nickname 'Andrea of the Hanged". The preparatory studies for these paintings are now in the Uffizi Gallery; Botticelli also uses this theme. Similarly, Ludovico il Moro, Duke of Milan, the last of the Sforza family independent of foreign powers, commissioned a portrait to be exhibited on the walls of the castle, in which Bernardino Court, who had betrayed him to the French, was depicted hanged by the foot.
This intepretation misses an important fact about the first known version of the card, in the PMB, namely, that Muzio was not in fact a traitor, at least in the eyes of the Sforza family: he was unjustly accused by an anti-pope (or possibly a story was invented by Sforza's opponents, as some have speculated). His switching of allegiences helped to end the schism that had been plaguing the Church at that time. Moreover, Muzio was the honored grandfather of the ruling family of Milan, a figure of new life in that sense as well. These facts are suggested in the hole in which the Hanged Man's head hangs, like a seed about to be lowered into the ground, dying to bring forth new life. His head of hair suggests a halo, his legs are green, the color of fertility in these cards (e.g. the woman in the Love card and all the Baton courts). Moreover, the position of hanging upside down is that in which St. Peter, the rock upon which the Church was built, was crucified. All of this tends to make the Hanged Man a positive figure. There is also the form that the legs take, tentatively suggesting a cross. I do not know if there is a meaning. Most "shame paintings" I know about do not have or mention this feature. And in France, where they were unknown, it probably have been taken as a symbol of Christ. That this symbolism was understood in this way and passed on in the later versions of the card is suggested by the continuation of just these particular features (not shared by the 'Charles VI' version), in the Tarot de Marseille, and in addition, in the Tarot de Marseille II the presence of 12 notches on the poles beside him, suggesting the 12 apostles.(More cautiously, the Tarot de Marseille I only has 11, I think to suggest that the hanging one is Judas; see http://www.tarotforum.net/showpost.php? ... stcount=11.) Indeed the number 12 is itself ambiguous: it can represent the 12th disciple, i.e. Judas, or it can represent the 12 disciples as a group, with Christ in their center. Usually it was the 12th card of the sequence; in the A cards in fact it was the 13th. It is this ambiguity, between Jesus and Judas, that gives the Tarot de Marseille card its mysterious quality, I think. However in most A and B cards he is unambiguously Judas, identified by the title "traditore" and the money bags that he clutches and that weigh him down, pointing him toward hell rather than heaven. In the Charles VI, he does not even have his legs crossed. The mystery is absent.

THE FINAL SECTION

Next is Death, Dummett says (p. 422f)
Il trionfo XIII, la Morte, non richiede spiegazioni. Pur dif- [end of 422] ferendo nei dettagli, tutte le versioni mostrano la morte come uno scheletro, in piedi o a cavallo, nell’atto di falciare uomini e donne, e, in particolare, papi e re, una rappresentazione quindi del tutto convenzionale.

(Triumph XIII, Death, requires no explanation. Although dif- [end of 422] ifering in details, all versions show death as a skeleton, standing or on horseback, in the act of mowing men and women, and, in particular, popes and kings, then a totally conventional depiction.).
However I think that the Tarot de Marseille introduces something new when it portrays the heads of two of the figures, male and female, coming out of the ground with their eyes open. They are the new birth, not physical but of the soul or spirit, symbolized by the heads.

I think it is important that the early designers, as indicated by the commonalities of the A, B, and C orders that Dummett brings out, perceived this card as grouped with the later cards of the sequence and not the earlier ones. It is the beginning of the afterlife.

There is really no discontinuity between this card and the ones before it, the Wheel and the Hanged Man. I suspect that in an earlier version of the sequence, the Petrarchan triumphs (which prima facie doesn't include the Hanged Man) simply continued to the end, without any change of story, and the cards from Devil through the Celestials were inserted later.

There is a sharp contrast between what I call the Petrarchan part of the sequence--Love, Chariot, Time (interpreted not as after death), Death, Angel and World, plus the virtues--and those not part of it. Those not part of it are invariably in the same order (except for the Popess, which has a special explanation) in all the orders, while the Petrarchan part is in all sorts of arrangements. Since the Hanged Man is almost always right before Death, I suspect that it is a late addition, too. This suggests to me that the Petrarchan part was earlier, before the deck was standardized.

Later, with Alciato and the deck reflected in Vieville, there might have been an attempt to restore the C order to a precise Petrarchan interpretation, when the 14th card in the C order got the alternative name "Fama". In Petrarch Fame comes after Death and before Time. In that case, the celestials would have represented Time: the Stars (of the Zodiac) show the year and the month, the Moon by its phases shows the weeks, and the Sun shows the day and even, given the sundial, the hour (as well as the season, through the equinoxes and solstices). That is my answer to the riddle of why "Fama" started appearing in some versions of the C order in the 14th card.

Here is Dummett on the Devil (p. 423): He has just said that Death presents no special problems..
Lo stesso dicasi per il Diavolo. Il modo di ritrarre il soggetto è assai vario, ma, nella maggior parte dei casi, il disegno mostra soltanto la figura del diavolo in rappresentazioni più o meno convenzionali. La carta del Tarocco di Marsiglia, del Tarocco di Besangon e degli altri modelli derivati, è insolita in quanto raffigura due diavoletti in aggiunta al soggetto principale; non è chiaro, almeno per me, perché siano incatenati al ceppo su cui il diavolo sta ritto.

(The same applies to the Devil. The way of portraying the subject is varied, but, in most cases, the design shows the figure of the devil in only more or less conventional depictions. The card of the Tarot of the Tarot of Marseille, Tarot of Besancon and other models derived from it is unusual in that it depicts two little devils in addition to the main subject; it is not clear, at least to me, why they are chained to the stump on which the devil is standing.
Dummett at least recognizes that the Tarot de Marseille adds something new, the two devils bound to the "stump" on which the Devil stands. This seems to me an extension of the Cary Sheet image of the souls in the sack on the Devil's back. It is probably a result of a medieval representation of these souls as tied to the devil, as seen, for example, in a column in France that had been posted by Fauvulus at viewtopic.php?f=14&t=278&hilit=column&start=30#p3890 that Marco recently drew to my attention. The Devil is standing on a pedestal, as another church, I presume French, shows: viewtopic.php?f=14&t=278&hilit=column&start=40#p3905).

The real mystery about this card, it seems to me, is why it follows immediately upon either Death or Temperance/Fama. Dummett refuses to deal with this question, claiming that it is unknown what the "original order" was; but in every order it has the same place, allowing only for the variation in the position of Temperance. The early accounts in the Discourses by Piscina and Anonymous very much concerned themselves with this question, and give different answers. Piscina makes it a matter of what lies between the earth and the celestial bodies. I will start with his discussion of Temperance (the Italian is at http://www.tarotpedia.com/wiki/Piscina_Discorso_5):
Then Temperance comes: a most beautiful virtue that moderates us in the pleasures of the body, according to the law, and that can [19] here be interpreted as any other virtue, that does not fear the strikes of Death, nor the inconstance of Fortune: on the contrary, virtues make men immortal, according to the opinion of the Poet^, they take the man out of the grave and preserve him for a long and immortal life. Since the Author thought to have discussed enough images and examples of mortal things, he moves to place figures of more worthy things, that is to say, celestial. But since Nature does not allow changes that are too quick, nor that one moves from one extreme to the other without the due mean, before ascending to celestial things as the extreme end of earthly things he places examples of Demons: because, as Melito said answering Socrates' question, they are sons of the Gods but are neither earthly nor celestial. It has been the opinion of many, in particular the Platonists, that the Demons are Spirits that are in the air & that they are somehow in the middle between Gods and men.
Melito was the Athenian state's prosecutor against Socrates in Plato's Apology. Piscina seems to be using Temperance to represent all the virtues, the possession of which overcomes Death. But between the extremes of mortality and immortality is a mean, namely, a part in between. I think he is referring to the medieval cosmograph, with its successive circles of earth, water, air, and fire. He only applies it to the last two. Yet it seems to me that Death, which triumphs over the body, is at one extreme, earth. Then Temperance has the two pitchers, with water between them. Then comes air, where the demons are. Fire of course is next. The only difficulty will be with the Star, which seems out of place whether representing a planet or something in the Fixed Stars, as the next circle in the cosmograph after Fire is the Moon. There are various ways of accounting for this discrepancy, which I will get to in another post. With the cosmograph came a doctrine of the soul's ascent to the Empyrian, which can be contemplated also in this life through meditation. The idea, I think, is that the virtuous soul is assailed on all sides by demons. They lie in wait for the soul ready to capture it and drag it to hell, even if it had some good works. It was thought necessary to pray for the souls of the dead for a certain period after death, as an aid to its passage. Then if it manages to elude the demons, there is also the realm of Fire to contend with. Dante described this journey in his Divine Comedy. He put the demons in Hell, which is where they drag souls to, then the purifying fire is in Purgatory. But they were represented in the air often enough, for example in a famous 14th century "Triumph of Death" (the title came later) in Pisa (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Buona ... co_001.jpg), in which, on the upper right, winged demons and angels fight each other for the possession of souls.

Another interpretation of why the Devil comes next is that of Anonymous:
After these, the Hunchback, the Traitor, Death and the Devil follow. The Hunchback, who is none other than Time, demonstrates that all those things are vain and transitory. Therefore loving and desiring them so intensely, thinking of nothing else, is the greatest foolishness, because in a short time Old Age comes together with all its miseries; then people begin to understand the deceptions of the murderous World, which are put before their eyes by the traitor. But since they have gotten so used to their bad habits, it is difficult to get free of them; they do not depart from their usual habits. It is difficult to get free of them; they do not depart from their usual errors. Suddenly Death comes, in the horror of which the Devil, who is the cause of all this, takes them away in fright and despair. This is the miserable end of human actions, speaking of those who are completely immersed in the vain and lascivious delights that the World promises and can give; they follow foolishness as their guide, without regard to their end and to God, upon whom the greatest good and all perfect and permanent happiness depend.
Here the idea is that unvirtuous souls, who sacrifice virtue to strive after the things of this world, are in the clutches of the Devil after death. A problem with this interpretation, as a description of the soul's journey after death, is that Hell is a final destination, once there one cannot ascend higher. So there is a sharp break between this card and the one following. The narrator is asking one to consider another ending. There are two alternative endings to the story, not one narrative. If there are two endings, but only one sequence of triumphs, then one has to be done after the other, with a break in between. Dummett's examination of the orders did not have a break at this point: every order does the sequence from Death through Sun in exactly the same way, as though this was all one group. If there is a break here, with two endings, it is one that the designers of all three orders must have understood as such. as a series of two endings; or else this part of the sequence came at a later time than the rest, and two merely copied the precise order of the third.

Anonymous accomplishes the leap from Devil to the Heavens (he has no Fire, just "cieli") through what I think is an act of contemplation. it is by contemplating the heavens that we come to see the power of God. (Here I have altered Caldwell, Depaulis, and Ponzi's sentence structure slightly, to conform with that of the original, even though it is awkward in English, and changed one preposition.)
His contemplation is wisely presented by the Author in the following seven figures by means of his marvelous and beautiful works, so that knowing him, we love him. So that, by [not for] his infinite goodness and mercy, he delivers us from the Devil at the end of our lives, making us co-heirs with him of the true glory and the happiness of Heaven. Therefore we rise with our eyes and intellects to the Heavens, the Star, the Moon, and the Sun, the supernatural works of God, the World [meaning "Cosmos"], so in the fixed stars as in the moving Planets, of which each depends on its own intelligence which is the Angel, who governs and moves them in accordance with the first Mover, who is the great and immortal God, represented by Justice. because at Judgment Day he will be a most righteous and severe Judge, repaying everyone according to their deeds.
So from contemplating the Devil, our eyes rise upwards to the Heavens, seeing there God's works, the planets and fixed stars of the Cosmos (which is a better translation of "Mondo" into English than "World"), each acting in conformity with the will of the Creator, thus reminding us of that same Creator at Judgment Day.

In Piscina's interpretation, however, it is all one sequence. From a contemplation of the demons in the air, we are led upwards to higher and better things. The course is like the "imitatio Christi", in which, just as Christ descended into Hell, so do those in imitation of him. confronting demons, to their greater glory.

Because of the close connection, visually and verbally, between Devil and the next card, Fire or Lightning, in its early cards and titles, I will deal with it in this post. Dummett says (p, 423f):
Fra tutti i trionfi la Torre non ha soltanto il maggior numero di nomi alternativi, ma anche la più grande varietà di illustrazioni. Esse possono essere divise in due classi. Sulla carta delle Minchiate vediamo un diavolo che emerge dalla bocca dell’inferno per trascinarvi dentro una donna. La carta di Catelin Geoffroy mostra una scena confusa e piena di fumo e con un edificio sullo sfondo; in primo piano v’è un diavolo che trascina via una donna con un braccio levato al cielo in segno di disperazione o di preghiera. Sul trionfo XVI del mazzo parigino anonimo, chiamato ‘la Fovdre' un diavolo esce dalla bocca dell’ìnfemo mentre una figura si accuccia al suolo davanti a lui. Queste tre carte formano la prima delle due classi: su tutte c’è un diavolo e il disegno si presta a nomi come ‘la Casa del Diavolo’ o l'Infemo’ — nome questo usato da Lollio e da Imperiali. La seconda classe è più numerosa e si adatta a nomi come ‘la Saetta’, ‘il Fuoco’ e ‘la Foudre’ (‘il Fulmine’). Nel mazzo di Viéville e nei mazzi del Tarocco belga in genere, vediamo un fulmine che colpisce un albero; non si scorgono edifici. In tutte le altre versioni c’è una torre o un altro edifìcio; in tutte, tranne la siciliana, l’edifìcio è in fiamme e di solito colpito da un fulmine. Nell’unica versione dipinta a mano pervenutaci, quella del gruppo ‘Carlo VI’, non ci sono figure umane; vi compare un grande edificio in rovina con la parte superiore in fiamme, ma senza fulmine. La versione sul foglio Rosenwald assomiglia molto al disegno ‘Carlo VI’, sebbene semplificato; ancora una volta non ci sono figure, ma un grande sole nell’angolo superiore sinistro della carta sprigiona raggi che, apparentemente, appiccano fuoco all’edificio. Il disegno [end of 423] bolognese, quale appare nel foglio della collezione Rothschild e in mazzi successivi, è simile, salvo l’aggiunta di due figure a terra. Nel ‘mazzo Budapest’ non ci sono figure, ma un’alta torre è incendiata dai raggi dì un sole. La carta del foglio Cary, chiara antenata del disegno del Tarocco di Marsiglia, non è intatta; mostra una torre cilindrica la cui sommità appare illesa e che, per quanto si può vedere, non è in fiamme, ma potrebbe essere colpita da un fulmine dal lato sinistro, che è mancante. Il Tarocco di Marsiglia mostra una torre colpita dal fulmine, con la cima che si sgretola e due figure che precipitano.

Per parecchie ragioni sarebbe allettante supporre che la prima classe di disegni e il nome ‘la Casa del Diavolo’ rappresentino il significato originario della carta. Essa lascia infatti trasparire un’idea più precisa di quella espressa dai disegni di un edificio in fiamme e da nomi come ‘il Fuoco’. Inoltre, questo spiegherebbe perché la carta è invariabilmente collocata in posizione immediatamente superiore al Diavolo; presumibilmente lo strano nome lla Maison Dieu’ deriva da un fraintendimento del nome ‘la Casa del Diavolo’. Tuttavia, le prove contraddicono questa teoria. Il nome fornito nella fonte più antica, il sermone 'De Ludo', è «la Sagitta»; i disegni che mostrano un diavolo sono più rari e posteriori a quelli che mostrano un edificio in rovina. Inoltre, i disegni della prima classe sembrano chiaramente derivati da quelli della seconda. Sulla carta delle Minchiate il diavolo emerge da un edificio merlato e le fiamme lo colpiscono dall’angolo superiore della carta. È solo nelle due versioni francesi — la carta di Geoffroy e quella del mazzo parigino anonimo — che le fiamme provengono dalla bocca dell'infemo e solo nella più tarda, nel mazzo anonimo, che è scomparsa ogni traccia di edificio. Conviene piuttosto notare che in tutti i disegni della seconda classe, compresa la carta siciliana e con la sola eccezione del Tarocco di Marsiglia, la porta è un tratto di particolare rilievo nell’edificio (la carta sul foglio Cary è troppo frammentaria per poter decìdere). Potremmo pertanto ricostruire una linea di sviluppo nel modo seguente: un edifìcio in fiamme; un edificio in fiamme con figure che precipitano; un edifìcio in fiamme con un diavolo che esce ad afferrare una vittima; la bocca dell’infemo da cui esce un diavolo.

Se l’ipotesi è corretta, l’associazione di questa carta con il [end of 424] diavolo non faceva parte dell’intensione originale, ma fu il risultato di un’interpretazione imposta alla carta nel XVI secolo, o forse ancora prima. Il disegno bolognese e quelli ‘Carlo VI’ e Rosenwald, tuttavia, non suggeriscono che l’edificio fosse in origine una torre, ma piuttosto una fortezza; né, a giudicare da queste carte, pare che il fulmine fosse la causa originaria della deflagrazione. Si è portati a supporre che il disegno del Tarocco di Marsiglia derivi da un adattamento di uno precedente, per ragioni locali. Nel 1521, quando i Francesi erano ancora in possesso di Milano, una delle torri del Castello Sforzesco, eretta sotto il duca Francesco Sforza, crollò uccidendo molti soldati francesi. Comunemente si credette che fosse stata colpita da un fulmine a del sereno; il prodigio preannuncio davvero la rapida e definitiva espulsione dei Francesi dalla città.

(Among all the triumphs, the Tower has not only the greatest number of alternative names, but also the greatest variety of illustrations. They can be divided into two classes. On the Minchiate card we see a devil emerging from the mouth of hell to drag in a woman. The card of Catelin Geoffroy shows a confusing scene full of smoke and a building in the background; in the foreground is a devil who drags a woman with one arm raised to the sky as a sign of desperation or prayer. On the deck of the anonymous Parisian, triumph XVI, called 'la Fovdre’, a devil comes out of the mouth of hell while a figure crouches on the ground in front of him. These three cards form the first of two classes: first of all there is a devil, and the design lends itself to names such as' The House of the Devil 'or ‘L’Infemo' - the name used by this Lollio and Imperiali. The second class is the most numerous and it fits names such as 'Lightning', 'Fire' and 'Foudre' ('Lightning'). In the Viéville deck and Belgian Tarot decks in general, we see lightning hitting a tree; no buildings can be seen. In all other versions, there is a tower or another edifice; in all but the Sicilian, the edifice is on fire and is usually struck by lightning. In the only handpainted version to come down to us, that in the 'Charles VI' group, there are no human figures; there appears a large building in ruins with the top on fire, but no lightning. The version on the Rosenwald sheet is very similar to the 'Charles VI' design, although simplified; Once again, there are no figures, but a large sun in the upper left corner of the card emanates rays that apparently set fire to the building. The Bolognese design, [end of 423] which appears in the sheet of the Rothschild collection and in subsequent decks, is similar, except for the addition of two figures on the ground. In the 'Budapest deck' there are no figures, but a high tower is set on fire by the rays of a sun. The Cary sheet card, the clear ancestor of the design of the Tarot of Marseilles, is not intact; it shows a cylindrical tower whose top appears unharmed and that, as can be seen, is not on fire, but could be hit by a lightning bolt from the left side, which is missing. The Tarot of Marseille shows a tower struck by lightning, with the top that crumbles and two figures that fall.

For several reasons, it would be tempting to assume that the first class of designs, and the name 'The House of the Devil' represent the original meaning of the card. It does in fact reveal a more precise idea of the one expressed by the depictions of a burning building and with names like 'Fire'. Also, this would explain why the card is invariably placed in a position immediately above the Devil; presumably the strange name ‘la Maison Dieu' stems from a misunderstanding of the name 'The House of the Devil'. However, the evidence contradicts this theory. The name provided in the oldest source, the 'Sermon de Ludo', is "Sagitta"; depictions that show a devil are rarer and go back to those that show a ruined building. In addition, the designs of the first class seem clearly derived from those of the second. On the Minchiate card the devil emerges from a crenellated building, and the flames hit him from the top of the card. It is only in two French versions - the card of the Geoffroy deck and the anonymous Parisian - that the flames come from the hell mouth and only later, in the anonymous deck, in which every trace of the building has disappeared. Rather, it is of note that in all the depictions of the second class, including the Sicilian card and with the exception of the Tarot of Marseilles, the door is a trait of particular importance in the building (the card on the Cary sheet is too fragmentary to decide). We can therefore reconstruct a line of development in the following way: an edifice in flames; a burning building with figures that fall; a devil in an edifice with flames coming out to grab a victim; the hell-mouth from which comes a devil.

If the hypothesis is correct, the association of this card with the [end of 424] devil was not part of the original intention, but was the result of an interpretation imposed on the card in the sixteenth century, or perhaps even earlier. The designs of Bologna, the 'Charles VI', and the Rosenwald, however, do not suggest that the building was originally a tower, but rather a fortress; nor, to judge by these cards, does it seem that lightning was the original cause of the explosion. One would assume that the design of the Tarot of Marseilles is derived from an adaptation of a previous one, for local reasons. In 1521, when the French were still in possession of Milan, one of the towers of the Castello Sforzesco, built under Duke Francesco Sforza, collapsed, killing many French soldiers. It was commonly believed that it had been struck by lightning out of the blue [fulmine a del sereno, "out of the serene", a colloquial expression for “unexpectedly”]; the prodigy foreshadowing the really quick and final expulsion of the French from the city.
But of course on the "Charles VI' card, which surely is before 1521, there is already lightning hitting a tower (if it is a fortress, it is also a tower). And the term "Sagitta", meaning lightning, is used in the Steele Sermon, also surely before 1521. At best the collapse of the Sforza Castle tower could give a reason for having at least one man falling from the top of the tower, instead of losing his balance at its foot, as the Bolognese card shows. However men falling from towers was already in use long before, for example in the illustration to Lydgate's Fall of Princes, which also has a devil in the doorway. And Boccaccio's description of the fall of the Tower of Babel, if it is anything like Lydgate's adaptation, also included men falling. A similar example is on Amiens Cathedral, 14th century France (right image at http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lu-6PwakMv0/S ... gCathA.jpg).

Dummett claims in this case to get at an original version of the Tower (p. 425):
We can therefore reconstruct a line of development in the following way: an edifice in flames; a burning building with figures that fall; a devil in an edifice with flames coming out to grab a victim; the hell-mouth from which comes a devil.
But we don't know whether the "edifice in flames" came first, or a building in flames with people falling from it. Artists copy not only from other tarot cards, but from many sources. Amiens Cathedral shows a building with people falling from it. All the artist had to do was add flames. Similarly, buildings falling down were depicted in art earlier, and all an artist had to do was add flames. Also, he doesn't distinguish between flames and lightning, an important distinction given the different names on the cards, with lightning first. Finally, lightning-struck towers with devils in them and men falling were already depicted in art before the first known evidence of the card (e.g. the Lydgate). It could just be a matter of a designer picking which features to include and which not. However it may be that the devil did come out of the building is later than having him stay inside.At least I have not seen any of that type--devil emerging from building, especially a tower--before the tarot image. If it is a devil emerging from a hell-mouth, I would think there had been plenty of those around.

It remains of interest how the name "Maison-Dieu" got attached to the card. The theory that it is a mistake derived from "Casa del diaualo" is too much of a stretch, in that "a" and "e" don't look much alike, and there is also the rest of the word. "Maison-Dieu" is not a strange word in French. According to Le Grand Robert its primary meaning was to refer to the Temple of Jerusalem. The Temple of Jerusalem would have been a prime exmple of the meaning of the card, namely, a destructive act from God, designed either as punishment for rejecting Christianity or to remind us not to trust in the things of this world. If the early meaning of the card was in any way lost, it would have been by emphasizing the former of these interpretions rather than the latter. In the Bible, lightning comes from God for both reasons: in Genesis's account of the Tower of Babel, it is the former, in the Book of Job, it is the latter. In the Book of Revelation, it seems to be both, since sometimes is not tied to any misdeeds. Since this book is the only one that mentions hail, corresponding to the circles on the card, probably the primary reference of the Tarot de Marseille and Cary Sheet card is to that event. That would fit the Vieville as well, which does not even have a tower.

Another meaning of the term "Maison-Dieu". Robert says, was to designate the chief hospital of a town, Robert says. It even had the meaning of "hospital" (as well as "poorhouse") in English, the Oxford English Dictionary tells us. That would fit the interpretation of the card as reminding us to detach from the things of this world. This interpretation is supported by a woodcut series by Edward Schoen, in which, if all the astrological Houses correspond to triumphs, as they seem to, the one for the house of sickness and health, showing a man in bed being visited by others, could only correspond to this card (http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lu-6PwakMv0/S ... vSchon.JPG)

The term "Maison-Dieu" also meant 'House of God". That interpretation to the card would seem to be covered by the application to the Temple of Jerusalem, hospitals, and poorhouses. Churches might also be included it was no doubt true that churches, because of their steeples, were particularly susceptible to hits by lightning. Bosch has a vivid example in [iThe St. Anthony Triptych[/i] (http://uploads2.wikiart.org/images/hier ... y-1516.jpg), possibly tarot-inspired.

But the main problem with Dummett's account is his refusal to account for its place in the sequence, despite the fact that every order has it immediately after the Devil and before the Star. I return to Piscina:
After the Demons, comes Fire, as the due mean between the stars, that are celestial, and mundane things: it is, as affirmed by Naturalists or Philosophers, the [20] element that is found before the Moon, the Sun and any other Star.
It would make sense, after being captured by the Devil, for the soul to be in the house of the Devil. But in that case the drama would stop right there, instead of being, as Piscina has it, an intermediary place, where the highest is that of Paradise. So "House of the Devil" fits Anonymous's scenario but not Piscina's. Piscina's seems to me more the fire of Purgatory (Dante had a ring of fire near the top) than of Hell, and the House of the Devil only in so far as sins are of the Devil. They must be burned away before the soul can enter Heaven. And it is not even sin that has to be burned off, but attachment to material things generally. Thus in the Book of Job, Job's sons have their houses and sheep destroyed by Satan's angels,with the approval of God. Even the Tower of Babel is sinful only in the sense of trying to protect oneself from God's will. In Boccaccio and Lydgate it is presented as a king's attempt to avoid God's punishment of a flood by building towers high enough to be above it. No devil is mentioned, but the illuminator still interprets the intent as devil-inspired in the illumination to Lydgate, which puts a devil in the tower's doorway. This attempt to evade God's will of course needs to be punished; so God sends lightning, just to show that he does not merely have floods as his disposal. It is a humbling reminder that we are not in charge of our destiny. The Book of Revelation is more of the same, in which hail and fire descend from heaven at God's will, against the good and the bad alike, as a prelude to the Last Judgment. It is a this-life (or more exactly, an imagined this-life) equivalent of Purgatory, the purging of the attachment to matter.

So also, getting sick enough to go to a hospital, or poor enough to go to the poorhouse, is another wake-up call to be ready for Judgment. Such calamities are reminders not to put stock in this world, but rather to attend to the next.

Is all this part of the "surface" meaning of the card? I do not know. But it is what is needed if it is to be part of a sequence with the Devil just before it and a Star just after. Alternatively, there is a break in the sequence here, as for Anonymous, and the card, whatever it is called, serves to direct our attention to the heavens and the supernatural power that created them. Even in depictions where the heavens are not shown, where what is happening seems to be an earthquake, our attention is drawn to the source of such power, the same source that created the "supernatural" objects that follow in the sequence.
Next we have the Star, Moon, and Sun (p. 425) :
La Stella, la Luna e il Sole presentano tratti secondari molto diversi nelle varie versioni. L’unica conclusione naturale è che questi tratti secondari siano irrilevanti per l’identità delle carte; tutto ciò che i diversi disegni hanno in comune sono solo i corpi celesti che danno il nome alle carte — sul foglio Rosenwald sono tutto quel che c’è sulle tre carte. I tratti estranei sulle carte del Tarocco di Marsiglia, risalenti per la maggior parte al modello milanese quale è esemplificato dal foglio Cary, non sono facilmente comprensibili. Forse i due bambini che compaiono sotto il Sole sul trionfo XVIIII e il gambero che emerge dalla pozza sotto la Luna sul trionfo XVIII hanno un significato astrologico: i due bambini stanno a rappresentare la costellazione dei Gemelli e il crostaceo quella del Cancro. I due cani che abbaiano alla luna sul trionfo XVIII sono un’aggiunta dei fabbricanti francesi, che non compare sulla carta del foglio Cary, ma l’idea è troppo banale per richiedere una spiegazione particolare. Non è chiaro come si possa spiegare la donna che versa acqua nel ruscello sotto la Stella del trionfo XVII; è del sesso sbagliato per rappresentare l’Acquario.

(The Star, the Moon and the Sun have very different secondary traits in different versions. The only natural conclusion is that these secondary features are irrelevant for the identity of the card; all that the different designs have in common are only the celestial bodies that give their name to the cards – on the Rosenwald sheet that is all that is there on the three cards. The strange strokes on the cards of the Tarot of Marseilles, dating for the most part from the Milanese model exemplified by the Cary sheet, are not easily understood. Perhaps the two children who appear under the sun on triumph XVIIII and the crayfish that emerges from the pool under the moon on triumph XVIII have an astrological significance: the two children are to represent the constellation of Gemini and that of the crustacean Cancer. The two dogs barking at the moon on triumph XVIII are an addition of the French manufacturers, which does not appear on the card in the Cary sheet, but the idea is too obvious to require a special explanation. It is not clear how one can explain the woman pouring water in the stream below the Star of triumph XVII; she is the wrong sex to represent Aquarius.)
If the tarot has a Petrarchan/Boccaccian base, then the most natural thing is that the three celestials represent Time. Then the "secondary" features are indeed later embellishments. It might be that at some point they came directly after Death or Temperance, with Devil and Tower as later additions. I say this only because none of the PMB or its spin-offs show these cards, and there is no Devil among any of the hand-painted cards. But there might be another explanation, such as fears or unpleasantness related to these cards. Their order would then be explained as relating to the units of time they measure off.

Another explanation for these cards might be as representing the spheres of the Cosmos above Fire, on the way to the Empyrean. That seems suggested by Piscina and perhaps even Anonymous, in that contemplation of these entities leads us to think of God. In that case, it is not clear why the Star card would be first, as the next sphere after Fire is the Moon. Ross suggested order of brightness as an easy thing to remember when playing the game. That seems an adequate explanation. The order is adjusted to fit the needs of the game.

Piscina actually gives four different explanations of why the Sun card is higher than the Moon (http://www.tarotpedia.com/wiki/Piscina_Discorso_5).

Then there are the "secondary features". That the representations on the cards are so different does not mean that we can brush them aside as irrelevant, any more than we can brush aside the beginning of Hamlet's first soliloquy because it could be either "Oh, this too, too solid flesh" or "O this too, too, sullied flesh". One was first, the other second. It might be that the second version did not understand the point of the first and so the designer had something else he did understand, perhaps in part relating to his particular city. Or it might be that the second just had a different idea he thought worked better. Or perhaps both thought that what was on the card was too simple, just a star and a moon and a sun, and something more was needed, and they had different ideas of what that might be. But that does not mean that the card only means what is first. Second and third thoughts are also worthy of consideration. All we can do is record the differences and possibilities.

Dummett suggests that the secondary features of the Tarot de Marseille may have an astrological significance. I don't know about that, but they certainly correspond to signs of the zodiac. The Gemini may have been associated to the sun as wrestlers: athletes were considered "Children of the Sun". The crayfish is on "children of the moon". What Aquarius has to do with a particular Star is not clear on the surface.

In the first appearance of this design, on the Cary Sheet, there is a star on the figure's shoulder (on left at http://tarothistory.com/images/thestar.jpg). Given that the figure is nude, that suggests a particular star and goddess, Venus.

It is perhaps worth looking at the tarocchi appropriati. In Folengo, the Star card seems to be associated with Fortune.
This Fortune is a Magician,
who first lifts someone up, then brings him down.
There is no Temperance in her, so, she shatters
the Strength of anyone born under a bad Star.
, Also here is the one of of Ferrara 1540:
Il Sole
Virginia Trotta. - She blinds with her light.

La Luna
Violante Muzzarella. - She drives the weary sailor to the harbour.

La Stella
Giulia Trotta. - She can make you happy or disgraced.
Here again, the allusion for the Star seems to be Fortune. That indeed fits the Leber card (http://trionfi.com/0/j/d/leber/p/16.jpg), which perhaps comes from Ferrara. The reference to sailors for the Moon card is one explanation for the water on the card: the moon is responsible for the tides on which ships sail in and out of harbors.That the sun blinds is its obvious natural property; it might also explain the sunburst on the Love card, connected with Cupid's blindfold.

Actually, the gender of the figure is not clear. Young men representing Aquarius in Renaissance depictions are not that far from what we see. But it certainly does seem feminine. The two fish on the Cary Sheet suggest Pisces, which in astrology is the sign in which Venus is exalted. There is also the legend that Venus and Cupid turned into fish and jumped into the Eurphrates to escape the monster Typhon. But none of this explains the jugs with liquid coming out of them. Is it then a combining of images, Venus with Aquarius? That is possible. Such combinations of disparate imagery were not uncommon in the Renaissance.

But why Venus should be combined with Aquarius remains puzzling. Until recently all I could think of was that the two jugs are related to the two springs on top of the mountain of Purgatory in Dante (Cantos 31 and 33; see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eunoe), which in turn are related to the springs of Lethe and Mnemosyne at the oracle of Trophonius (http://www.theoi.com/Khthonios/Trophonios.html) and the two doors in Porphyry's "Cave of the Nymphs". This interpretation is confirmed in the 1520s Mantua frescoe of Giulio Romano, depicting a similar maiden pouring forth her jugs into the river Lethe, while an old man nearby does the same into the lake of Mnemosyne (http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lu-6PwakMv0/S ... Notat3.JPG). But this does not relate the image to Venus.

Recently, however, I read some of Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, a text already associated with the Tarot Castle cards. There is a mention of two streams there. Drinking from one makes one feel love, and the other hate. I then looked at Boiardo's Orlando Inamorato. The two streams also occur there, in Book One, Canto Three, in a woods called "The forest of Arden". The stream that instills love is a product of nature; the one nearby that instills hate, flowing from an alabaster fountain, is a product of Merlin's wizardry. He constructed it in hopes that Tristan would drink from it and so be freed with his doomed infatuation with his Queen; but Tristan failed to do so. Instead Ranaldo drinks from it and loses his passion for Angelica, while Angelica, fleeing from him, drinks from the other stream and develops a passion for Ranaldo.

It strikes me that streams of love and hate might naturally be associated with Venus, even though there is no reference to Venus here by either Boiardo or Ariosto. Since the first two books of Boiardo's poem were published in 1483 (translator Charles Stanley Ross's introduction, p. xxii) and republished many times thereafter, this is one explanation for the streams, to which the jugs are added by association to Aquarius.

If she is Venus, then there is an obvious explanation for why the Moon triumphs over her: it is a case of Diana, i.e. Chastity, triumphing over Venus, i.e. Love. Petrarch takes precedence over the cosmograph. Then for how the Sun triumphs over the Moon, Piscina has four explanations. As to why the Star triumphs over Fire, one must look at the top of the card: the planets as a whole (5 of them on the Cary Sheet, not including Sun and Moon) are more exalted than the element of Fire.

In the Tarot de Marseille there is no star on the figure's shoulder, nor any fishes (http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dlgO_RTXo2k/T ... oslDod.jpg). Nor does Romano's stream-nymph have any association to Venus, but does have one to Lethe and Mnemosyne. So by then, and to be sure the time of the Tarot de Marseille, one association is lost, but others seem to be invited, such as the one with Dante's two streams at the top of the Mount of Purgatory. In that case, the stars at the top could signify something else, indicating what drinking from the streams will admit one to, namely the Heavens.

There is then the job of explaining the mountain behind the figure on the Cary Sheet (http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lu-6PwakMv0/S ... eetDET.jpg), and in the Tarot de Marseille, the hills, and the bird. and where the two streams are poured, Some might consider that "overinterpretation". I think that if an interpretation fits the image, adds something meaningful to the overall framework (cosmograph, moralization, etc.), and is appropriate to the times, it is not overinterpretation, by Petrarch's criteria of interpretation.

I will not get into why the crayfish on the Moon card is so big (it is usually a small one, on "children of the Moon" pictures), what the towers on either side mean, what the boy with the banner has to do with the sun, or why some cards have the pair on the Sun card as male and female, others as both male. They all invite being fit into an integrated narrative.

There is also the issue of fitting the other versions of this threefold sequence into an integrated whole of their own sequences. The Rosenwald is clear enough, with just the object corresponding to the name of the card; but the "Charles VI", Bologna, and Ferrara versions are not. It is to be sure possible that these designs came later, and designers merely put whatever they could think of on the cards. I do not think that is true in the case of the Cary Sheet.

Before the Cary Sheet, there was the PMB. This has a woman reaching for a star on the Star card, a melancholy woman as Diana holding the Moon, and a child reaching for the Sun. The Metropolitan cards (Venice or Ferrara) are somewhat similar, except that instead of a child reaching for the sun, the sun shines down on some trees (see later in this paragraph), the moon-woman no longer has Chastity's bridle (see http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lu-6PwakMv0/S ... anItal.jpg), and it is a man instead of a woman reaching for the Star (http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Vl6sCQjmnVI/T ... dapest.jpg, which I think is inspired by Michelangelo's David). One reasonable possibility seems to me to be that these replaced Hope, Faith, and Charity of the Cary-Yale and retain some of those cards' features. In the Minchiate, the theologicals appear right after the Devil and Tower as cards 16 and 18-19, in that same order (http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Lu-6PwakMv0/S ... peStar.jpg). Also, the PMB woman might be Elisabetta Maria Sforza, who died in childbirth at age 16. She has the hope of heaven (see http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Lu-6PwakMv0/S ... arSpes.jpg, which also includes Giotto's Spes). But she and Diana are probably both sad that she married so young. Charity is a gift for which whatever one has done is insufficient to merit; so is the sun with its warmth (compare http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jkTzQnuyvSQ/T ... tySun4.jpg). The sun shining on the trees is thus a kind of charity (http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lu-6PwakMv0/S ... villel.JPG). It also is reborn each morning, so appropriate for a child's appearance on the card.

The other main images on the cards are those of the Beaux-Arts-Rothschild group, the d'Este, and the "Charles VI". In the first two (the last is missing the card), the Star seems to be the Star of Bethlehem, and so a fit symbol of Hope (http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Lu-6PwakMv0/S ... othshl.jpg). The Moon has astronomers or geometers, perhaps signifiying Florentine achievements in this area, or simply the idea that the microcosm is like the macrocosm, "as above, so below", the Pythagorean-Hermetic idea (http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Lu-6PwakMv0/S ... othsch.jpg) that Kepler and Newton later expanded upon. The lady on the Sun card might be Clotho, one of the Fates, and so a momento mori (http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3u8Ar5i1Sf8/T ... eville.jpg). Clotho is associated with the Sun in one of Plutarch's essays and with the Moon in another (justifying her appearance there on the Vieville). Or she might celebrate the new art of silk weaving, as well as the idea that all labor under the sun is vanity. Vanity is also the theme of the d'Este Diogenes, where Alexander invites Diogenes to be his adviser and Diogenes replies that Alexander would be of more use not blocking his sun. Detachment from the things of this world is also a theme of the Tower card and appropriate to this section.

The main theme is the progression from star to sun by some principle. Ideally, it should be as true for the "secondary" features as for the "primary" ones, formng a sequential narrative, one scene at a higher level than the one before. Tht seems to fit the A and B cards' lower scenes, except for the Moon card. The Star card is a harbinger of salvation and the New Jerusalem. The Sun card perhaps tells us to throw off this world. But the Moon card just tells us that the moon is a fit object for mathematical study. It is an unfortunate choice, from the standpoint of seeing the scenes at the bottom as contributing to the sequence. It tends to give the impression that they are mere decoration. The PMB and Metropolitan cards are saved from that fate if they are seen as Greek gods ranked from a Christian perspective (Venus, Diana, Apollo), or as a reworking of Hope, Faith, and Charity. But some elements of the Cary Sheet celestials, and many of the Tarot de Marseille's, simply won't fit into a conventional framework at all, when these elements are looked at for their contribution to the progression of a sequence. What do a lady pouring jugs, a giant crayfish in a pond, and two boys looking at and touching each other have to do with a progression leading to the Empyrean? How does Aquarius lead to Cancer, and Cancer to Gemini? These scenes beg to be explained, even if they don't have to be to play the game. I'll visit them again when discussing "hidden meanings".

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