This is an update to a previous posting on the Moon card, but more specifically exploring how it relates to an old French medieval saying, ‘entre chien et loup’ (‘between a dog and a wolf’), which describes the twilight hour between day and night. I had made a comparison of the liminal, canine critters to the crocodile in one of Horapollo’s Hieroglyphics, ‘How they shadow forth darkness’, as well as the beastie Amut, who devours heavy hearts after they are weighed in the Egyptian afterlife.
Horapollo (Horus Apollo), like many who would come after him, made a valiant attempt to decipher hieroglyphs that were thousands of years before his time. What’s interesting is that while many of his descriptions were ‘corrected’ with the discovery of the Rosetta Stone, there are quite a few TdM cards that suggest someone just might have been using Horapollo for inspiration.
Anyway, I’d admitted the croc and beastie were perhaps a stretch, so here’s an example much closer to the mark. Not sure why it had eluded me before…
Tomb of Sennefer or Tomb of the Vineyards, in the Valley of the Nobles
All the details are there, the bunches of grapes even look like dew drops of the Moon card! Between the two guardians, there is a long stand with a platter of lotuses on top. Often depicted in tomb paintings, lotuses were considered to have an aphrodisiac sent, which revitalized the dead. A similar metaphor to the crayfish in the TdM card (resembling a scarab or triple Hekate of the liminal spaces), lotuses grow from the muddy waters and into the light of day (or night, as it were).
Girl with Lotuses, Theban tomb of Menna
The expression, ‘entre chien et loup’ actually has much older, Latin roots: ‘intra hora vespertina inter canem et lupum’, which is though to date back to at least the 7th century. So it’s not a huge stretch to relate it to Egyptian or Egypto-Greco-Roman tomb imagery. As a metaphor, it is used to describe a time when clarity is fading and things become uncertain, creating a sense of fear or unease. The hound and jackal (Anubis) served as guides through the underworld journey, the in-between state which can also be thought of as the Bardo (Tibetan) or simply the time when lack of light begins to create phantoms that take on a life of their own in our dreams.
Stela of Pekysis 1st c B.C.–A.D. 4th c (detail)
Catacombs of Kom El Shoqafa [Alexandria] ca 2nd c AD (detail)Much later, the Surrealists would find their inspiration at this liminal precipice, drawing from dreams and the unconscious, which were also being explored in modern psychoanalysis. The Surrealist movement was officially founded in 1924. Salvador Dali developed a technique called the ‘paranoiac-critical method‘ which was much like an enhanced dream or nightmare state, possibly not unlike the Bacchic-Orphic mystery, with its essential ritual objects:
‘One of the types of objects theorized in surrealism was the phantom object. According to Salvador Dalí, these objects have a minimum of mechanical meaning, but, when viewed, the mind evokes phantom images which are the result of unconscious acts.’ [Wikipedia]
Villa of Mysteries, Pompeii fresco (detail)
Perhaps the original reason for all ritual objects was as a means with which to create phantom ‘guides’ or signposts in the inner or unconscious state. If so, should we be making a conscious effort to be more selective with the objects (and subjects) we ritualize on a daily basis?
Pompeii fresco
The Moon card has often been compared to a Giorgio de Chirico landscape or Surrealist painting, it’s one of the few cards depicting a landscape with perspective (and is the most pronounced of these). De Chirico was a great inspiration to the Surrealist painters. His often disquieting landscapes feel neither here nor there.
Giorgio de Chirico, ‘The Enigma of a Day’ (Paris, early 1914) MOMA
The Surrealists were also exploring the potential of film, which until the late 1920s had been silent. One of the most disquieting scenes in cinema to this day is in the Surrealist film, ‘Un Chien Andalou/L’Âge d’Or‘ (‘An Andalusian Dog/The Golden Age’) by Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dali (1929). The first part of the film’s title is an obvious word play on the old saying. Surrealism came about during the aftermath of WWI, during the ‘twilight’ before WWII…between the hound of Hades and wolf of Mars. Phantoms were everywhere. War itself is a grand surreal (‘super-real’) event that tears the fabric of waking reality.
Death’s-head hawk moth from Un Chien Andalou/L’Âge d’Or
In his own work, Dali often featured lobsters. Being a Taurus he experienced food as erotic, and lobsters in particular as aphrodisiac. In my previous post I had also noted the uterine shape of the crayfish (interchangeable with lobster), but of course it can also be phallic, an all-in-one, so to speak.
Dali by George Platt Lynes 1939
The TdM Moon card depicts an in-between state, a possibly perilous time where the soul is either drawn back into a body or up to the heavens. Illusions of the mind and ‘persistent memories’ are everywhere, fears and desires (Dali’s lobster) can become phantoms that direct us. No wonder the Fool takes his spirit animal along! It tears his garment, as if to show us how the fabric of our reality or persona can thus be torn open. Obvious yonic symbolism there, too, foreshadowing rebirth in the World card. Future article! ~rb
Dali Moon card (featuring old skyline of New York), 1984.
They are never final in the sense of a literal statement, which would fix the mind to a given point; nor are they final in the sense of the mystical Absolute in which all images would vanish. Rather they keep the mind in continued suspense by presenting the paradox of an ‘inherent transcendence’; they persistently hint at more than they say. It is a mistake, therefore, to overlook a certain ambiguity in the praise of hieroglyphs which Ficino, and after him Giordano Bruno, adopted from an incidental remark by Plotinus. In a famous passage of the fifth Ennead, Plotinus had suggested that Egyptian ciphers are more suitable for sacred script than alphabetic writing because they represent the diverse parts of a discourse as implicit, and thus concealed, in one single form. Since Pico ascribed the same virtue to the writing of Hebrew without vowels, it is legitimate to suspect that the Renaissance speculations on ‘implicit signs’ were not concerned with a positive theory of optical intuition, but with that far less attractive subject called steganography, the cryptic recording of sacred knowledge. Because God, in the opinion of Ficino, ‘has knowledge of things not by a multiplicity of thoughts about an object, but by a simple and firm grasp of its essence’, it seemed only right that the Egyptian priests had imitated the divine comprehension in their script, signifying ‘the divine mysteries not by the use of minutely written letters, but of whole figures of plants, trees, and beasts.’ But as Erasmus observed in the Adagia, the content of these figures was not meant to be open to direct inspection, or ‘accessible to anyone’s guess’; they presupposed in the reader a full acquaintance with the properties of each animal, plant, or thing represented… Thus, contrary to the divine intelligence which the reading of hieroglyphs is supposed to foreshadow, the intuitive grasp of them depends on discursive knowledge. Unless one knows what a hieroglyph means, one cannot see what it says. But once one has acquired the relevant knowledge, ‘unfolded’ by more or less exoteric instruction, one can take pleasure in finding it ‘infolded’ in an esoteric image or sign.
With this in mind, let us venture, armed with discursive information, to intuitively grasp the divine intelligence ‘infolded’ in this most hieroglyphic of TdM triumphs. [As always, click any images to enlarge and for more info.]
PART ONE
15th century ‘Fortitude’ cards: Visconti-Sforza, Cary-Yale, Charles VI
Earliest examples of the Fortitude card expressed the concept allegorically as physical strength/courage; Hercules or Samson beating up the lion or a formidable lady exerting control over it (taming animal instinct or temperament). Alternately, this formidable Virtue could be found grasping or busting up a pillar, as you do. Sadly, the dragon-extractor with an anvil on her head standing on a wine press didn’t get selected…guess Medieval fashions had become passé.
Engravings: Samson rendering the Lion late 15th c, Hans Ledenspelder ‘Forteza’ (after 15th c “Mantegna” prints) mid 16th c
La Force from a French Book of Hours, 1430-35 [Morgan Library]Numerous variations of a man or woman atop a lion also appear in Valeriano’s 1556 Hieroglyphica book. He and others were directly inspired by Horapollo Nilous, an Egyptian scribe and one of the last remaining priests of Isis, whose ‘translations’ of Egyptian hieroglyphs had been re-discovered in 1422 and put to print in 1505. Such as,‘To denote Strength, they portray the FOREPARTS OF A LION, because these are the most powerful members of his body.’ Read all about Horapollo’s Hieroglyphica and TdM here.
Lion tamers from Valeriano’s Hieroglyphica 1556
The word ‘force/forza’ comes from Latin ‘fortis’, meaning “strong, mighty; firm, steadfast; brave, bold.” It later came to include “courage, fortitude; violence, power, compulsion.” Being top of the food chain and having a solar mane (Leo), the noble lion is one of the oldest symbols of power and rule, including rule of law; it’s roar equated with the thundering word of God. Examples are exhaustive, going back to ancient times. But male deities could only hope to possess or overcome this indomitable force of nature, which ultimately belonged to the great Mother – giver, protectress and taker of life.
Lion Goddess Medley (click image for details)
Without diving too far into the whole lion-goddess topic, there are a couple that might be mythically relevant to us; Al-lāt and Medusa/the Gorgoneion/Athena. We’ll return to them, and to Hercules, in a circular fashion. But the use of a woman, rather than Hercules or Samson, in the TdM Strength card might be intended to illustrate a ‘princely virtue not confined of military strategy, a combination of force and prudence’ and the mitigating effect of Venus on Mars’ impulsive and destructive nature. She does not destroy it – nothing would ever perish without Mars, creating a different kind of imbalance – merely keeps it in check, Venus as lion-tamer.
Henri Cartier-Bresson, The House with the Caryatids, Athens, 1953
When we place all the numbered triumphs in a row, Strength/La Force is situated smack in the middle – a gateway or junction between earth and heaven, waking life and the intermediate state, or even just at midlife:
Midway upon the journey of our life I found myself within a forest dark, For the straightforward pathway had been lost.
Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say What was this forest savage, rough, and stern, Which in the very thought renews the fear.
So bitter is it, death is little more; But of the good to treat, which there I found, Speak will I of the other things I saw there.
That we can’t readily locate Prudence might indicate that Justice, Force and Temperance are more than just classical Virtues, if not the totality of them. Note how they all fall into the ‘2’ placement, according to the Pythagorean cosmology, ‘One becomes two, two becomes three, and out of the third comes the one as the fourth.’ Justice and Temperance flank Force on either side like two caryatids; one holding a sword and scales of dismemberment, the other, watery vessels of renewal. Seven cards (as with the 1s and 3s), three on either side of the central one.
Cards in the ‘2’ placement, Camoin-Jodorowsky deck, 1997
Ten, the divine number that forms the mystic tetractys – was also of great importance to Pythagoreans. Here is how the cards match up using their Roman numerals (this is not the numerology way of adding the digits together to reduce it to the ‘lower octave’, which can only be done with Arabic numerals):
Our chief concern here is that I (Le Bateleur), XI (La Force) and XXI (Le Monde) represent beginning, middle and end (and/or vice versa). In the beginning, as mentioned in this post about the Juggler/Bateleur, we see beneath his table a little, mandorla-shaped flame or golden barley grain (or cypress tree), in the distance. At the end, the complete being makes their appearance inside a similarly shaped wreath. And at the half-way mark, the lion’s maw extends directly from the yonic gates. Unique to TdM, this strongwoman doesn’t simply straddle the lion, it is part of her, just like Skylla’s hounds.
The ‘rule of three’: beginning, middle and end (Nicolas Conver TdM, ca 1760)
The pip cards are also numbered I to X, and the suit of swords bears a similar design to XXI. To Pythagoreans, the Vesica Piscis created by two, intersecting circles represented the intersection of heaven and earth – a place where dimensions merge into a lens or keyhole through which a more essential (or quintessential) reality might be glimpsed. Of course the church picked this concept up and ran with it.
Immaculate Conception, Taller del Pinturicchio, ca 1490
Notice how the TdM suit continually ‘blinks’ from sword (masc/odd) to flower (fem/even), until a blending of both (active red becomes passive blue, one sword becomes two) in the last card. The design is thought to be based on playing cards that originated during the Mamluk sultanate in Egypt, which ended in the early 16th century.
Conver TdM Sword pips
Now for a slight detour…
For over a thousand years prior to Islam, Northern Arabia and well beyond had been the domain of Al-lāt, central figure of a lunar triad known as ‘Manat’. The Black Stone in the Kabaa at Mecca (thought to be a meteor) was once part of Al-lāt’s cult and, as such, is not mentioned in the Quran. ‘The Kaaba marked the location where the sacred world intersected with the profane, and the embedded Black Stone was a further symbol of this; an object as a link between heaven and earth.’ [Wikipedia] There were in fact two more stones (the other two goddess of the lunar triad?), a red one associated with the deity of the South Arabian city of Ghaiman and a white one in the Kabaa of Al-Abalat, near the city of Tabala, south of Mecca. (Note the relation to the three primary colours of alchemy).
Manat triad with Al-lāt in the style of Athena and Lion of Al-lāt from her temple (destroyed by ISIL).
One of the hidden secrets of the medieval bardic romance is the Arabian origin of the Waste Land motif, most prominent in the Holy Grail cycle of tales. Despite monkish efforts to convert it into a Christian chalice, the Grail was generally recognized as a female symbol, whose loss implied fear for the fertility of the earth. Crusaders had seen for themselves the desolation of Arabia Deserta, one of the most lifeless regions on earth. They heard the Shi’ite heretics’ explanation for it: Islam had offended the Great Goddess, and she had cursed the land and departed. Now nothing would grow there. [Barbara G. Walker, The Women’s Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets]
Preserving the source: Rochais 18th c, Visconti-Sforza 15th c, Al Leone 17th cMoon face(?) detail of Visconti-Sforza card (attributed to Bonifacio Bembo)
In the three Aces of Cups, above, the lunar triad and feminine symbolism is obvious, as is a hint of Islamic influence. In the two, printed cards, it almost looks as if her ‘house’ has been up and transplanted (from the Holy Land?).
The Lyford House being transplanted by barge, 1957
In Christianity, the triple Moon Goddess became the ‘three Marys,’ the central or all-in-one figure being the ‘Mother of God.’ There were variations on the triad, depending on the context. She could also be expressed as the three virgins – Mother Mary with St. Catherine and St. Barbara.
In TdM tradition, the cup’s tripartite, central, steeple (flanked by three ‘minarets’ on each side = seven) evokes the robed Madonna – or at least something veiled and sacred with three conjoined circles at the top. All the great cathedrals of Europe were built and named for ‘Our Lady.’ Somewhat surprisingly, Mary is revered in Islam as the greatest and purest woman that ever lived, and is the only woman mentioned in the Quran.
Mary ‘Our Lady Of Willesden’ pilgrim’s badge, early 16th c
The Visconti-Sforza card depicts a beautiful fountain with water flowing from the ‘waxing’ and ‘waning’ flowers. Its central flower is aligned with the vessel-shaped winged figure, which may or may not have a full Moon face (it is too damaged to be certain). Under the Visconti, 14th-early 15th century Milan was a centre of Marian veneration out of which, despite macho, power politics, much wealth, beauty, art and culture was generated (or re-generated), including the hand-painted Tarot cards that bear their name.
Madonna and child flanked by lions, from a 15th c Parisian Book of Hours
END OF PART ONE
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PART TWO
Welcome back. Now let’s return to the card in question and examine some details of our TdM mistress, beginning with her infamous hat. Many have noted its ‘lemniscate’ shape, but otherwise it’s a conundrum. Examples of Renaissance era straw hats, hair nets (most likely) and headgear are continually compared, as if to suggest there is no other reason for its weird shape except that’s just (kind of like) what people wore. Well, alright, but why did the artist choose this particular shape of hat, for this particular card? Consistent in Tarot de Marseille, which takes cues from Renaissance art, is that the image components must serve more than one, visual function and must therefore remain vague enough to evoke or suggest, but never give the whole game away. It’s a puzzle we are invited to figure out.
Dodal (type 1) and Conver (type 2) hats
In both type 1 and 2 versions, only one side of the brim has a leafy/scaled pattern. We’ve established that XI is midway between I and XXI, and that what begins as a single ‘grain’ shape in the first card will become a whole wreath in the end. Might it not stand to reason, then, that only one side of her hat has been ‘filled’ thus far?
The scaly side in type 1 also strangely resembles a (bearded) serpent head, like that of the Egypto-Greco-Roman Agathos Daimon or ‘good spirit’ guarding the mysteries in the catacombs, below (and in opener image). The four, petal-like shapes in the gorgoneion (Medusa mask) above it are also a close fit.
Kom el Shoqafa Egypto-Greco-Roman catacombs, Alexandria [photo: Justina Atlasito]In the Conver card, we immediately notice a few irksome details about this so-called ‘lion.’ Number one, that it is not a lion at all, but a clearly something canine – or perhaps a bear – wearing a lion’s skin (and evoking the serpent?). Also, the top of the woman’s hat seems to replicate the beast’s lower mandible. In some versions, the lion has no lower teeth, as if they have migrated to her hat (below, right), but in others (the close up, below), it still has a few. Was the artist/printer really that bad at lions, or did they alter the image intentionally?
Addendum:Didier Dufond, who is the expert on Bacchic-Orphic symbolism in TdM recently pointed out (in a comment on the Fool post, which is perhaps more relevant within the context of this post):
..I add that this liturgical sequence was unknown to scholars at the time of the Renaissance, which suggests a direct transmission, far from the elites of that time. Same concealment technique with the strange hat of Force, with the pine cone of the thyrsus decorated with a knot, plus undoubtedly a snake and a crown of ivy, all attributes of the bacchantes. And a bacchante thinking of tearing off the head of a lion with her hands is known in Euripides’ tragedy The Bacchae, when it was about her own son, Pentheus.
So, in this case, the serpentine ‘petals’ of the gorgoneion in the tomb are pinecones just like in the thyrsus the Agathos Daimon below holds. Can’t believe I didn’t catch that!!
What he is referring to is a scene in said Greek tragedy where Pentheus, King of Thebes, having imprisoned and insulted Dionysus, ends up having his head torn off by his own mother, Agave, who thinks he is a lion. So much for the ‘princely virtue not confined of military strategy, a combination of force and prudence’ and the mitigating effect of Venus on Mars’ impulsive and destructive nature! Agave is clearly a force of nature. I need to study this play.
It has also been suggested that the beast resembles the ‘Tarasque‘, an ancient, lion-headed, dragon-like creature from French/Gaulish mythology that was ‘tamed’ by St. Martha. This does not change the esoteric meaning at all, but rather adds to it, since Martha was one of the ‘3 Marys’ and appears in connection with her brother Lazarus being raised from the dead.
Valentin & Dubesset 1637-1685 (oldest known type 2) and Conver ca 1760Nicolas Conver (British Museum card) ca 1760
2 placement cards always depict some kind of vessel(s), here represented by her two, mismatched, gold vambraces. In Conver versions, each is divided by eight lines into nine sections (excluding the full bands on the ends). This might not be accidental, as we shall see.
It’s also odd that the artist, after having taken such great care with the animal’s detail right down to the teeth, would have neglect to fix the lady’s goitre – another detail unique to Conver (supposed to be her hair). Now it looks as though her head has been, idk, severed? Hmm, what mythical being had a severed head with serpent scales…oh right.
“Visita Interiora Terrae Rectificando Invenies Occultum Lapidem Veram Medicinam” [Visit the interior of the earth, and by rectifying you will find the hidden stone which is the true medicine].
‘Golgoi Sarcophagus’, 475-450 BC. Discovered by tomb robbers in 1873 [MET]The Popess held open to us the book of lesser mysteries. Now it seems we’ve arrived at the gates of the greater mysteries, judging by the guardians:
At first in motion set those beauteous things; So were to me occasion of good hope, The variegated skin of that wild beast,
The hour of time, and the delicious season; But not so much, that did not give me fear A lion’s aspect which appeared to me.
He seemed as if against me he were coming With head uplifted, and with ravenous hunger, So that it seemed the air was afraid of him;
And a she-wolf, that with all hungerings Seemed to be laden in her meagreness, And many folk has caused to live forlorn!
~ Dante [ibid]
Dante running from the three Beasts, William Blake 1824-27
Throughout history, initiations have been performed in caves, or underground, in the belly of the Great Mother. We know that mystery initiates confronted the darker aspects of themselves during the simulated death experience that is essentially descent into the ‘unconscious’. Dante, who bridged classical/Pagan and Christian theologies, would have been no stranger to this idea. The three scary beasts he meets in the dark wood – a leopard-like creature, a lion and a she-wolf – are usually understood as fraud, violence and greed/incontinence, i.e., the very shadows of our three Virtues, whether personal or collective (the she-wolf, which frightened him most, is also thought to symbolize Rome).
The famed, Capitoline She-Wolf nursing Romulus and Remus, 5th c BC
What’s fascinating is how the TdM artist has merged the three, Dantean bardo-monsters into one creature. Wearing of a flayed skin easily subs for ‘fraud’ and Dante specifically refers to this creature by its ‘variegated skin.’ (Perhaps this mystery animal is otherwise occupied flaying Le Mat).
A fool may deceive by his dress and appearance, but his words will soon show what he really is.~ Aesop
As mentioned, both the Gorgoneion and Agathos Daimon (serpent/good spirit) had a powerful apotropaic function. Snakes were not considered evil by any means, they were the children of Mother Earth and protected her sacred places.
Shrine fresco showing offerings being made to the ‘good spirit.’ Pompeii, 1st c AD
Kom El Shoqafa, like other catacombs in Alexandria around this time, featured both Egyptian and Greco-Roman gods and rituals. When it came to the final journey, initiates agreed no ancestral Gods should be left out, regardless of anyone’s recent conversion. In a similar vein, travellers usually respected and made offerings to local gods – especially Hermes, in the form of a herm (where he gets his name) – for protection in foreign turf.
Whether or not the TdM artist(s) knew of such ancient catacombs where Egyptian, Greco-Roman and Christian religious imagery co-habitated peacefully, who knows (Kom El Shoqafa itself was only discovered in 1900), but they were certainly aware of the syncretization of the gods and had some grasp on how hieroglyphic imagery worked (on multi-levels), if not on the actual meanings of real hieroglyphs. And they surely would have been familiar with the likes of Leonardo da Vinci, a master at using a single, timeless image to tell more than one narrative, while leaving room for ambiguity.
‘An endeavour to concentrate in a single subject those various powers, which, rising from different points, naturally move in different directions’, was regarded by Sir Joshua Reynolds as unprofessional by a painter. ‘Art has its boundaries, though imagination has none.’ The expression of a ‘mixed passion’ was ‘not to be attempted’. But Renaissance artists rarely feared to attempt what the 18th century pronounced impossible. [Edgar Wind, ibid]
Hercules and the Hydra, 4th c, Catacomb of Via Latina, Rome
In the Christian Catacombs of Via Latina, we find this fabulous fresco of Hercules fighting a Medusa-esque Hydra, his second labour. Both figures are red, emphasizing the Martian life-blood-force, or force of nature, presumably being transferred to him from the monster. Fading into the background is the Nemean lion’s flayed skin (again resembling a bear), fruit of his first labour:
Because its golden fur was impervious to attack, it could not be killed with mortals’ weapons. Its claws were sharper than mortals’ swords and could cut through any strong armour. According to Apollodorus, he was the offspring of Typhon. In another tradition, told by Aelian (citing Epimenides) and Hyginus, the lion was “sprung from” the moon-goddess Selene, who threw him from the Moon at Hera’s request. [Wikipedia]
Hercules finally corners the lion in its own, dark cave, clubs it senseless, then strangles it with his bare hands. But after trying unsuccessfully to flay it with knife and stone, Athena finally has to intervene and tell him to use one of the lion’s own claws (those razor-like spikes in La Force’s hat?).
Aesop’s Ass in Lion’s Skin by Victor Wilbour, 1916 [Smithsonian]Athena will help him out again in his final labour, as will Hermes the psychopomp, for it involves making the ultra-perilous trip to Hades, to kidnap Cerberus the three-headed Hell-hound. For this, Hercules must first be initiated into the Eleusinian Mysteries and purified. He will essentially enter the intermediate state, traverse the realm of death and re-emerge again.
That the fresco depicts Hercules naked and full of regenerative, serpent fire suggests his protective function in the afterlife, as well as perhaps a belief in re-emergence (be it on earth or in heaven). In the myth, the hero only achieves god status at the end of his trials when, in mortal pain from a nasty balm (made from the poison side of Medusa’s bloodstream), he finally throws himself on a funeral pyre, ie., the transforming fire. At this point, Hera and Zeus both decide he’s had enough and place him up in the heavens. [This old post goes into it in more detail.] Thus, Herc had his own cult back in the day, worshipped as a divine protector of mankind.
Franchises Gafurius, Practica Musicae frontspiece, 1496
11 has also been called the ‘mute’ number (perhaps because it is ‘neuter’; odd but reduces to even). In the woodcut above, Apollo’s serpent, fitted with the ‘special Cerberus of Serapis’ head (lion flanked by dog and wolf, which was also a hieroglyphic allegory of Prudence) descends the spheres from heavenly Apollo to the silent, chthonic realm of Thalia, equated with the musical pause. One can’t help drawing a parallel to La Force, with her looped, serpentine hat above, bare foot firmly planted on the Earth, and, in the Conver card, the 9 sections in her cuffs. Also to Dante’s three beasts.
Gafurius, a good friend of Leonardo, owned a copy of Ficino’s translation of Plato’s works. Edgar Wind again:
Gafurius’s serpent is distinguished by a particularly engaging trait. While plunging head-downward into the universe, it curls the end of its tail into a loop on which Apollo ceremoniously sets his feet. A serpent’s tail turning back on itself is an image of eternity or perfection (commonly illustrated by a serpent biting its own tail, but known also in the form of a circular loop on the serpent’s back…). Gafurius thus makes it diagrammatically clear that Time issues from Eternity, that the linear progression of the serpent depends on its attachment to the topmost sphere where its tail coils into a circle. That the ‘descent’ of a spiritual force is compatible with its continuous presence in the ‘supercelestial heaven’ was a basic tenet of Neoplatonism. Plotinus illustrated this difficult doctrine, which was essential to his concept of emanation, by the descent of Hercules into Hades. Homer, he said, had admitted ‘that the image of Hercules appeared in Hades while the hero was really with the gods, so that the poet affirms this double proposition: that Hercules is with the gods while he is in Hades.’ Pico della Mirandola extended the argument to Christ’s descent into Limbo, in the most startling of his Conclusiones in theologia, no. 8, which it is not surprising to find among the articles that were condemned…
Interesting, then, that the very next card, #12 Le Pendu/The Hanged Man depicts exactly such a figure; a man with golden locks who appears to be hanging head down, in limbo and, when flipped, dancing with his head in the heavens. No wonder his face expresses not agony but ‘mind in continued suspense by presenting the paradox of an ‘inherent transcendence’.
Jacques Vieville 17th c, Nicolas Conver TdM 18th c
The theme of the older cards has evolved from an allegorical but obvious representation of Hercules in his first labour as lion-basher to a more cryptic one eluding to his final labour, initiation and transition. At this ‘still point’ in the game, TdM’s enigmatic strongwoman of the threshold demands that we leave – or sacrifice – our own singular preconceptions (and egos) at the gates and submit to a higher/deeper understanding, if we wish to follow suit. ~rb
Today is my Mars return at 24 Aries. I’d been expecting the usual – namely, irritation (I did have an eczema outbreak, but that was immediately after listening to five minutes I’ll never get back of DT’s vitriol, last night) and a sudden surge of willpower to get things done. Check! But I hadn’t expected feeling ‘lighter’, even goofily so.
‘Scarface’, NASA photo of Mars
Aries is of course one of the signs ruled by red planet (the other being Scorpio, traditionally), God of War/Death, so Mars is well-placed here, where he can express himself absolutely. Mars in Aries is direct, to the point, impatient, quick to rile and often fearless, sometimes stupidly so, head-butting in first. But what about when he begins to mellow with age?
Titus Pullo from the HBO series, ROME
Mars is a lone wolf, shunned by the other Greco-Roman gods (together with his sister, Eris/’discord’, currently conjunct at 25 Aries), except Venus, who finds him a turn-on, and Pluto, always glad to expand the underworld population. No stranger to pain, tragedy and suffering, Mars has waded through blood and acquired many a battle scar, thus is also a knowledgeable healer. Military men had to know how to stop the bleeding, remove an arrow, cauterize an amputation, prevent infection, use herbs, and possibly recite prayers for the dying. Bodies belong to Mars, and they are impermanent.
Fool/Comedy and Death/Tragedy, flip sides, Grimaud Tarot de Marseille
But Aries also happens to be the sign of the Fool – the wise Fool or ‘wise child.’ April Fool’s Day is in Aries season, after all, and this is the first sign of the zodiac, the infant. Aries never seem to grow up, yet they see with a clarity (clear vision = clairvoyance) that can be unsettling. Like all fire signs, they like attention and rarely hold a grudge. Perhaps Aries the warrior secretly knows laughter (+good bedside manner) is the best medicine, that humour, like Venus’ love, disarms, and the lone wolf sits beside the Fool on the hill to watch the Sun go down and howl at the Moon.
So this other side of Mars in Aries becomes apparent. Take a look at the opening image of the Sola Busca Fool/MATO card. I tend to avoid this deck precisely because it is so gory and feels heavily Martian/Saturnian. But how interesting that he has a crow (death) on his shoulder and walks through a barren wasteland, much like a battlefield. He wears red (Mars/blood) and plays a bagpipe, an instrument of war even before the Romans brought it to the British Isles. Hmm.
Sketch of a Roman phallic tintinnabulum, 1746
Mars is currently in the third/last decan of Aries. Depending on which decan system you use, the third is either ruled by Jupiter (most common), Venus or Gemini. Based on how it feels (trine my Sagi Moon), I have to go with the jovial one. A planet in late degrees exhibits an accumulative effect, similar to life experience, or lifetimes of experience. Perhaps this is the real meaning of the dog (or cat) who bites our Fool from behind, a past of aggression he is walking away from, un-attachment to old anger, pain and fear, as he heads into the great beyond. ~rb
