Let Me Take You Down – The Juggler/ Le Bateleur of Tarot de Marseille

Isis assists with the embalming of a mummy, Kom El Shokafa, Alexandria, 2nd c

‘One becomes Two, Two becomes Three,  and out of the Third
comes the One as the Fourth.’  
~ Pythagoras

In a previous post , we saw how this Cosmology of Pythagoras applies to Tarot. It is but one of the initial or initiatory, key concepts conveyed to us as a visual clue by our Master of Ceremonies, The Juggler/Le Bateleur (aka the Magician). Do you see it?
Hint: It’s ‘dessous la table’, in every Marseille-type deck.

Vieville, Conver and Noblet cards

Of course, I am referring to the legs. People tend to write off his three-legged table as simply being of the portable sort that Bagatelles used. It’s true, three legs provide the most stable table for any surface. (Especially if it happens to be a tripod with a Pythia sitting on it). But his table in fact has four. Because one of his legs is behind or combined with one of the table legs, his other leg becomes the 4th leg; ‘the One as the Fourth.’ Another consistent feature is that the rectangular table top always extends beyond the picture border… just how long might it be?

Below are two images of Anubis, god of funerary rites and underworld guide, preparing the dead. His uncovered, lower legs are always visible beneath the embalming bed, and knees about level. This ritual table traditionally had a lion head(s) and legs, which we will return to in a moment.

Legs of Anubis
Egyptian embalmer’s bed, 664-332 BC  (Met Museum, NY)

The Juggler is often equated with Hermes/Thoth, initiator into the mysteries or the ‘in-between’ state itself who oversees the alchemical process. But he’s also seen as an initiate, who maybe doesn’t yet know what all these objects he’s selling are for. As others familiar with Osirian-Orphic mystery content in TdM imagery have noted, they likely allude to dismemberment or sacrifice. They also bear a resemblance to the tools used in the Egyptian ‘Opening of the Mouth’ ceremony, which according to belief, enabled the deceased to eat, breathe, drink and use their senses in the afterlife.

Religious equipment for ‘Opening of the Mouth’ ceremony, 6th dyn. (British Museum)

Naturally, the Juggler’s objects also symbolize the four Hermetic elements (ie, the suits of the minor arcana) and the four ways a body is returned to them in traditional funerary rites. The four ‘parts’ of us that are returned to their sources – body to earth, spirit to fire, soul to water, mind or breath to air – will again be drawn from them and remixed, for another round.

Four ways a body is returned to the elements

Now, let’s just for fun assume the Juggler’s table should have another wooden leg, that it is indeed modelled on an embalming table with leonine features and that it displays tools related to the ‘opening of the mouth.’
Where would we then look for the missing leg? Only the Conver-type decks give us a proper clue [addendum: Dodal also] – the Strength lion’s single leg having a distinctly wooden look and no paw. (Always thought it a rather canine-looking lion). In other TdM decks, it has normal, lion forepaws, which, nevertheless is a hieroglyphic feature, based on Horapollo.

The missing leg and the opening of the mouth

The Pythagorean rule informs us that every 4th card is also a first. 1 was considered masculine/solar and 2, feminine/lunar. 3, while odd, fiery and therefor technically ‘masculine,’ creates the first enclosed space (triangle/womb), so it is actually a combination of masc/fem (the Mercurial, creative magic of the trinity need not be re-explained here). 11 is two 1s or 1+1=2, the lunar partner to the solar Juggler.
I’ll discuss the 2s in my next post, but let the image below, from the Catacombs of Kom El Shokafa, where Egyptian and Greco-Roman mysteries meet, serve as a preview.

Where did you get that hat? Gorgoneion as ‘death face’ of the Sun

The crown/corona worn by royals represents the Sun’s rays. To be coronated means to be crowned with the Sun and become a god-like, solar figure. In alchemy, the Sun symbolizes both the material gold and the hidden, spiritual gold, which is only achieved after a long process. The Juggler holds a little yellow coin or roundel (material gold) and there is a small, yellow flame [aka ear of golden grain] beneath the table, in the distance (spiritual gold). They are separate, at this point in the game.

One/Four cards (Camoin-Jodo deck)

Notice that every card in the 1/4 place between Juggler and Sun depicts a crown, in various phases of transmutation, as well as solar wheels (Chariot, Fortune) and phallic symbols (all seven do, but in the last card it is a horizontal wall). The Sun is its own corona (unified, risen spirit), but what about the Juggler? He is only a 1, not a 1/4, and wears not a crown but a floppy hat with a spherical, red middle.  Could this too be symbolic of the Sun?

Floppy discs

Answer is yes. The question of his hat had admittedly irked me a long time, until I saw these beautiful, French prints of Egyptian deities in the NYPL collections.

Winged solar disk, emblems of Thoth/Hermes Trismegistus (NYPL)

So the red sphere of the Juggler’s hat represents the solar disk, its brim being vaguely reminiscent of wings – or – perhaps symbolic of the funerary boat in which the Sun god Ra, and thereby Kings and Pharaohs traversed the Duat, when the sun set. The red sphere appears to sink into the brim, ie, setting below the horizon, corona faded. Meanwhile, on the distant horizon flickers that tiny, golden flame of spirit, which will become a bright Sun once again.
Pythagoreans believed in reincarnation, Pythagoras himself was said to have remembered several of his past lives.

New take on retro fashion or just comparing scars?

On that note, I leave you with a vivid, childhood memory…
My father was a psychiatrist with a sense of humour (and with whom I often played cards). Hanging on our bathroom wall was a small, framed photo of Sigmund Freud, with a quote by Groucho Marx taped beneath:

“This may be a phallus, but gentlemen, let us remember, it is also a cigar.”

~rb


All written content created by and copyright ©Roxanna Bikadoroff and may not be reprinted without permission. Please share via LINK only.

Secrets of the Emperor’s Chicken

Jodorowsky-Camoin Emperor

There is a curious detail in the Marseille Emperor’s throne, which always reminded me of a goofy-looking bird, a bit like the Roadrunner cartoon. Merely an accident of design…or is  it? Jodo refers only to the eye-like, circular shape, as symbolic of ‘alchemical gold.’ He and Camoin also insist there was an egg (under eagle’s tail) in the Conver card, which they ‘restored,’ a topic of much debate in Tarot circles.

detail in 3 versions of the Conver Emperor

Details in Tarot imagery are known to get muddled or omitted, so it’s necessary to look at as many variations as possible, to try and put a picture together. Often it’s nothing, sometimes it’s something. In this case, it was the latter.

In the two versions below, you’d be forgiven for thinking the bird head on the back of the Emperor’s throne was just another eagle, being the imperial bird (and in the first card, it appears to be), except for a couple of other clues; in the 2nd card, the arm of the throne is clearly ‘feathered’ like a rooster’s tail. Also there is the fact that the brim of the Emperor’s helmet-crown is almost without exception consistent in its red colouring.

18th c Emperors (Solothurn and Benois)

We could also make the connection to the alchemical basilisk, which symbolized the destructive fire preceding the transmutation of metals, as well as having the ability to kill with a glance, like Medusa (hence situated behind the Emperor, his shadow nature or hidden super-power). And, of course, the presence of Mercurius, the transmuter.

Basilisk in 12th c archway

Now, the next question is, why? Why, when chickens are a medieval symbol of cowardice and avarice, and when the rooster in particular belongs to Mercury or Mars, would anyone associate the noble Emperor with poultry? Isn’t the Emperor an avatar of Jupiter??

Actually, Emperors and Gallus gallus go a long way back. No ancient Roman Emperor was without an assembly of sacred fowl. You see, in olden days, chickens were not bred for frying, but for fighting and alectryomancy, a form of augury. Chickens were used to predict the outcome of battles and, yup, who the next Emperor would be. We can see the military aspect of our Tarot Emperor, though he be seated in repose.

Etruscan buccher 630-20 BC and German Rooster helmet c 1530 (MET Museum, NY)

Alright, so what does the regal rooster have to do with de Zeus, if anything?
This is where it gets a bit esoteric, because TdM imagery is never this = that. We can find associations in the Emperor card to Jupiter (imperial eagle on his shield, sometimes a thunderbolt in his sceptre, bearded), Mars and Mercury (rooster, as mentioned), as well as the Sun (rooster, medieval 4th sphere, wears a radiate crown over his helmet), but what about Pluto? Pluto/Hades was, after all, an aspect of the Jupiterian triplicity, one of the ‘bros’.

While the other, major Greco-Roman gods were always busy doing – Mars at battle or cavorting with Venus, Mercury flying all over the place, Jupiter running Olympus between mythic, erm, conquests – it seems Pluto’s one, big event was the ‘abduction’ of his young bride, Persephone/Proserpine. After that, the god of subterranean riches pretty much just sits there on his Underworld throne or lies in repose at banquets for the newly-dead, right?

engraving by Wenzel Holler (detail) 1600, Francesco Berti Bologna Emperor  17th c

This is likely due to the abduction myth being a relatively late injection; Persephone had long presided in the underworld as part of a Goddess triplicity (with Demeter and Hekate), before the patriarchal gods usurped:

“There is an archaic role for Persephone as the dread queen of the Underworld, whose very name it was forbidden to speak. In the Odyssey, commonly dated circa 800 to 600 BCE, when Odysseus goes to the Underworld, he refers to her as the Iron Queen. Her central myth, for all its emotional familiarity, was also the tacit context of the secret initiatory mystery rites of regeneration at Eleusis, which promised immortality to their awe-struck participants—an immortality in her world beneath the soil, feasting with the heroes who dined beneath her dread gaze.”

Note the ‘dread gaze’ reference, again.

Persephone and Hades/Pluto Enthroned, 500-450 BC, Greek (Cleveland Museum of Art)

As it turns out, Hades/Pluto and Dionysus may have been one and the same (or syncretized). In this beautiful relief, we see that the cock and hen are familiars of Persephone and her consort, representing Springtime regeneration (and eggs!), when she emerges from the Earth to make it fecund, again. The ear of grain/wheat is another of her attributes (indeed she was the grain itself), and we see that the TdM Emperor wears a necklace (circle) of golden grain, just like Pluto/Dionysus wears on his head.

Going back to the subject of my previous post, every 4th card is also the 1st card of the next cycle of 3, the Empress being the first 3. Like Persephone, she embodies the cyclic, creative triplicity. The Emperor, in 4th place, represents the ‘death’ of the first cycle as well as the beginning of the next. Similarly, Winter is the 4th season, when the forces of life go underground.

Conver Empress and Emperor (BnF)

The aging Emperor is typically shown in profile, facing the Empress/past and with his back to the next cards/future (if they were laid out in numerical order). He will not go further in his current form, but holding his sceptre erect, looks to his lady for renewal, while she, in turn, holds her sceptre to her womb.

Addendum: Hermes-Mercury’s travels famously included being a psychopomp, being the only god who had licence to travel back and forth between realms. So don’t worry, this is not to discount the rooster/chicken as possible presence of Mercury,  significator of transition, alchemical, numerical or otherwise. Rather it is to draw attention to the Plutonian nature of the Emperor. Hermes-Mercury is present in every Major Arcana card of the TdM (more on that some other post). Interestingly, modern ‘evolutionary’ astrology sees planetary Pluto as having to do with both death and transformation. ~rb

“Hey hon, think I’m ovulating…”


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Zero in the Tarot by M J Stone

A little retrospective, now that we are officially in the Age of Aquarius. This piece was originally published in Parabola, Fall 2001 issue. It illustrates the Fool’s 2000 year journey through the Piscean Age of western civilization, via Tarot imagery. (Appreciation to the author for providing me with an English version and for giving me permission to post). Enjoy!

. . . . . .

ZERO IN THE TAROT
Whirling through the Major Arcana
by MJ Stone

Here I go again, spinning round and round, eyes closed, a quantum leap just waiting to happen. Flirting on the brink, whirling like a dervish, I am the primordial force, the Nijinsky of the cosmos. To most I am a fool, but to friends I am fondly nicknamed, a zero. Descending, inexperienced into the world, I am air, the breath of life, pure oxygen.

Some call me an eccentric and a know-it-all. But like the Latin, Follis, meaning a bag of wind, I am the conscious impulse that breathes life into the Tarot and my 21 Arcana companions. Beyond comprehension, I am a trickster, a sly fox and a vigilante rabbit, the roadrunner who defies Wiley’s scientific grasp.

Lucky are the mortals who catch a glimpse of me.  I am the burning bush of Moses, jump starting life’s evolutionary process. Manifesting in archetypes, in fleeting glimpses, in your dreaming: I begin my dance with the Major Arcana’s Magician, and continue to spin and bedazzle throughout the Piscean Age.  By card 21 I complete the circle drawing you into the Age of Aquarius by handing you the World.

Two thousand years ago, I was the essence of the fish and manifest in the man who walks on water, in the shaman who cures the sick and draws Lazarus back from the grave. I am the spirit of that first-century’s quantum leap. I am the message that lives in the heart of the Son of Man; I am card number 1, the Magician.

I represent the spirit of the people where the Christian leap of faith is about to occur. I live in the hearts and minds of Pagan Rome and amongst Northern Europe’s nature-worshipping Druids. I am an incarnation of Morgain, the archetypal goddess and Western, second-century, animistic state of mind. I embody the essence Gaea; I am card number 2, the Druid light, the High Priestess.

I celebrate the union of opposites, where the archetypal Christ marries the Lady of the Lake. I am fertility, the birth of the new faith that catches fire in the third century. I manifest as the pagan projection of Venus transferred onto Mary’s Immaculate Conception. I am card number 3, the Empress.

The quintessence of the Age of Aries is embodied in the Roman Empire. But by century four, the folly of the fish has usurped the pioneering spirit of the ram. From 392 to 395 Theodosius the Great reigns as the last Emperor of a United Rome. Representing the advancements of a previous age, I embody the spirit of the Tarot’s King Arthur. I am card number 4, the Emperor.

The spark that ignites the fire and seizes hold of your imagination is the fifth-century form that I take. I am the inspiration that fires the mystic hearts of Saint Augustine and Saint Patrick. Saint Augustine wrote City of God in 411 and Saint Patrick returned to Ireland in 432. I am the Rumi of devotion manifest in card number 5, the Dalai Lama of the 22, the Hierophant.

My dance turns transcendental when century six gets under way. I am the love affair that develops between Byzantium and Rome when they are reconciled in 519. I am a united Christian Empire, Venus and Mars in love. I am the harmony and peace  projected by card number 6, the Lovers.

I am a seventh-century noble and heavy-metal warrior for the Christian world, inspiration for the Silver Tower, the first order of knighthood that was established by the High King Balmord the Red in 653. I emerge in the legend of the Holy Grail. I am the archetypal Lancelot, card number 7, the Charioteer.

Out of knighthood springs the flower of chivalry. I am the eighth-century dance that occurs when Charlemagne becomes king of the Franks in 771 and is crowned the first Holy Roman Emperor. Grace, courtesy and devotion form the trilogy his reign inspires, attributes best exemplified by the chaste and fair lady of the Tarot, card number 8, Justice.

Following on the heels of infinite hope comes infinite despair in the ninth century. Louis the Pious succeeds Charlemagne in 814. He is a conscientious Frank who demonstrates that he is an able general and administrator. But on the throne the kindly Emperor is easy prey to schemers, the worst being his own children. Having divided his Empire amongst his sons, he finds, to his grief, that not only do they war among themselves, but they turn on their royal benefactor, forcing Louis to abdicate and seek refuge in a monastery. Such is the dance of a lonely monarch, the King Lear of the Tarot, I am the spirit of card number 9, The Hermit.

When the tenth century rolls round, the Christian world is a ship of fools sailing for an unknown disaster.. Wild musings and millennial fears motivate the hearts and minds of the medieval collective. But by wheel of time proves kind and the thousand-year anniversary of Christ’s life passes without cataclysmic consequence. I am benevolent and kind, the embodiment of fate as represented in card number 10, the Wheel of Fortune.

The first quantum leap of the new millennium is inspired by social activism. I am the spirit that catches fire in the wife of Leofork, earl of Mercia, when Lady Godiva makes her stand. She persuades her husband not only to found monasteries at Coventry and Stow, but also obtains a reduction in the excessive taxes levied by her husband by consenting to ride naked through the town on a white horse. Only one person disobeyed her orders to remain behind closed shutters; that old fool of a tailor, Peeping Tom, peeks through his window and is immediately blinded by Godiva’s radiant projection. In the Tarot, I am fair and beautiful. I am seen holding open the jaws of that proud lion, Leo(fork); I am card number 11, Strength.

I manifest in the profound convictions of a man who is hung out to dry for what he believes in. A sword’s crushing blow extinguishes the life of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, on a cold December evening as he ascends the steps of his altar. The brutal event sends tremors through 12th-century Europe. Blame for the murder lays at the feet of Becket’s former close personal friend, King Henry II, who can’t bear that Becket would challenge his authority. I am the indestructible spirit that lives in the heart of martyrs. In the Tarot, I am the archetype of thwarted potential, card number 12, the Hanged Man.

The dance of the infinite is a single-minded and hostile interpretation in the 13th century. A low point in religious orthodoxy occurs when the words of prophets are manipulated to inspire fear. So begins the age of Crusades and repression. The dark hostility reaches a crescendo in 1231 when the Inquisition begins. Pope Gregory IX makes the Dominicans responsible for ferreting out heresy. Thus bloomed an age of torture and intolerance. Historically, I manifest as card number 13, a demon angel arriving on horseback who exposes heretics and burns them at the stake. I am Death.

In the 14th century, hope is rekindled when the Renaissance begins in Italy and balance is regained as a consequence of the middle path. So emerges a new age of  illumination, spurred on by the likes of Dante, Petrarch, Boccaccio and Giotto. I am an invigorated spirituality that rises above the black plague. You find me in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. I am the archetypal, open-minded alchemist and an angel of rational intelligence, card number 14, Temperance.

The reactionary forces of an allied state and church obscure the light again. I am the pure heart of Jeanne D’Arc, burned at the stake, by the British, as a witch after her ecclesiastical trial. I am the essence of the Aboriginal people of the New World that 15th-century Europe discovers, demonizes and brutally conquers. I am card number 15, the face of European power, the Devil.

Against a backdrop of Martin Luther’s proclamation, the start of the Reformation and the publication of Machiavelli’s The Prince, I live in the spirit of the 16th-century humanist, Sir Thomas More, author of Utopia. He is locked up in “the tower” and beheaded as a traitor for refusal to acknowledge the authority of the excommunicated king, that fool Henry the VIII. I am the archetype of righteousness and the ghost that inhabits the murdering place. Struck by a lightening bolt, the inspiration for card number 16, I am the Tower.

By century 17 religious authority is determined to keep science in check. Astronomers challenge the church on the mechanics of the universe. After constructing a telescope, Galileo enlarges humanity’s vision and conception of the universe. In 1610 he sees the moons of Jupiter through his lens. Eight years later Johannes Kepler proposes the last of three laws of planetary motion. But in 1633 the Inquisition forces Galileo to recant his belief in Copernican theory. I manifest in the Night Watch painted by Rembrandt in 1653; I am the intellect that yearns for an ever-widening comprehension of the origins of the universe. In the Tarot, I am card number 17, the Star.

My rebel yell is a call that awakens democracy in the 18th century. In 1775 the American Revolution begins and on July 4, 1776, the Declaration of Independence is adopted. In 1789 the French Revolution begins with the storming of the Bastille. In 1793 Louis the XVI and Marie-Antoinette are executed. The door is opened for the ultimate rebel, Napoleon Bonaparte. In the Major Arcana, I am a wolf howling at midnight, an iconoclast who eclipses the sun’s bright light and undermines its authority. I inhabit the spirit of card number 18, I am the Moon.

Free of the limitations that church and state once imposed, the new world democracy throws open the doors of science. I am the spirit of invention inspired by the likes of Joseph-Nicephore Niepce, who takes the world’s first photograph in 1826. I shine in the brilliance of F. B. Morse, who patents the telegraph in 1844. I’m present in 1866 when Alfred Nobel invents dynamite, when Alexander Bell patents the phone in 1876, and, three years later, when Edison perfects the electric light. In 1892 I provide the impetus that led to the Diesel engine being patented and I’m present when Pierre and Marie Curie discover radium and polonium in 1898. The philosopher of the century is Nietzsche, who set forth some of the existential ideas that made him famous, namely, the proclamation that “God is dead.” Nietzsche’s atheism — his account of “God’s murder” — was voiced in reaction to the conception of a single, ultimate, judgmental authority who is privy to everyone’s hidden, and personally embarrassing, secrets. In the Tarot I am the bright light of reason, I am the spirit of the collective, I am an ego that imagines itself all radiant; I am card number 19, the Sun.

God is dead and the 20th century turns quantum. We are flying high, airplanes in sky, the dance is an automated, nuclear fandango. I am present in the advances of Einstein, The Wright Brothers and Henry Ford. But I am also twisted out of shape by two world wars, Hiroshima, the Cambodian Killing Fields, the Holocaust and the ongoing wars in the Balkans. I am a small step for a man and a giant leap for mankind. But I am, also, hubris, egotism and greed. I am the glory of intellect and its despair when it functions disconnected from the heart. That’s when I manifest in the extinction of species, in global warming, overpopulation. I am the volatile environmental legacy that children are inheriting. I am the edge on which the collective dangerously waltzes. You recognize me as millennial fear. In the Major Arcana, I am the angel who trumpets the dead from their resting place, card number 20, Judgement.

And into the 21st century, arms extended, the cosmos whirling around, I give you the Aquarian age. I embody the new century. I dance the dance of the mystical mother, the provider of life and all your immediate metaphysical frontiers. I am the intellect and heart of the living, breathing earth. I am your goddess, your scientific, subjective point of view, as object of faith. I am your garden and worthy of worship. I am the third planet in the solar system, a mystic top, whirling on axis, perfectly illuminated in the sun of infinite Buddha light. I am the deity of the new millennium. The goddess lives. I am hope and promise, card number 21. I manifest in nature, I am the World.

Copyright ©MJ Stone 2001, reprinted here with permission.
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Featured Tarot de Marseille cards:  Dodal (Fool) and Conver (World)