Traditional Tarot

Desultory Notes on the Tarot


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Paul Marteau: On Four Arcana of the Tarot

Translator’s Introduction

The desultory notes published previously provide some measure of context for the following article by Paul Marteau, the existence of which has gone unnoticed in the Tarot literature, with one equally obscure exception, and which gives great insight into Marteau’s work, with one caveat.

In effect, the notion that the Tarot originated, or, as in some iterations of the myth, developed initially, in France, and more precisely in Provence or Marseilles, has grown beyond mere parochialism. Various historical events and figures have been invoked in support of this historically-unfounded theory; the Cathars, the Troubadours, Mary Magdalene, Abbot Suger, and, as we shall see, the Phocæan Greek colony of Massalia, modern-day Marseilles. This notion, hinted at by Eugène Caslant in his preliminary exposé to Marteau’s book, is not to be found in Caslant’s earlier article for Le Voile d’Isis in 1928, and he merely attributes it to “the occult tradition,” whatever that may be, without providing any further indications.

Why Marteau chose not to include these prefatory remarks in his 1949 work is unknown; perhaps the documents and letters held in the Bibliothèque nationale or Marteau’s unpublished diaries contain the answer.

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Esmé Wynne-Tyson: On the Mithraic Origins of the Tarot

On the Mithraic Origins of the Tarot

Esmé Wynne-Tyson

Introduction

The Tarot, to use a French expression, has been put in every sauce; almost no occasion to find the alleged missing origins of this deck of cards has been missed; ancient Egypt, Kabbalah, Pythagoreanism, Islamic mysticism, Gnosticism, Renaissance hermeticism, practically every one of the mysteries of East and West has been invoked at some point or other to justify the origins of this deck of cards and its symbolism.

Speculative and as adventurous as these claims may be, one ancient mystery school is conspicuous by its absence at the roll-call of tarological lucubrations: Mithraism.

One writer, Esmé Wynne-Tyson (1898-1972), proposed this theory in her book Mithras, the Fellow in the Cap (1958), and with one exception, it has not gained any acceptance or credence. Wynne-Tyson is perhaps best remembered as a friend and collaborator of the English playwright and performer Noël Coward. She also penned a number of philosophical works, such as this examination of the mysteries of Mithras.

It is worth noting that Wynne-Tyson became a Christian Scientist in later life, albeit remained heavily influenced by Hinduism and ancient Greek Neo-platonic philosophers such as Porphyry. Equally, Mithraic studies have come a long way in the decades since the publication of her book. One will bear these points in mind while reading the following excerpt, a passage from Chapter 8, Mithras’ Other Hiding Places (pp. 187-191).

Mithras and the Bull. Courtesy of the British Museum

Wynne-Tyson, however, errs in conflating the symbolic slaying of the bull in Mithraism – the Tauroctony – with the gory sacrifice of the Taurobolium of the Mysteries of Cybele, the Magna Mater or Great Mother. One will note her incidental aversion to religions practising animal sacrifice, due no doubt to her militant vegetarianism.

Contrary to what Wynne-Tyson states, C. W. King does not appear to have mentioned the Tarot cards in connection with the Templars, at least, not in his chief work The Gnostics and their Remains (1887); the connection rather being the tenuous one between the Templars and Freemasonry instead.

As mentioned above, this theory is not well-known, and only one author has proposed it in recent years, though apparently without knowledge of Wynne-Tyson’s work since it is not listed in the bibliography, Stephen FlowersMagian Tarok (2015), largely based on the work of Sigurd Agrell (1881-1937).

Further discussion lies beyond the scope of these introductory remarks, and so we leave the reader to consider the following passage as a documentary contribution towards the historiography of the Tarot.

For further information and images on the cult of Mithras, one may consult the excellent website The Roman Cult of Mithras.

***

Undoubtedly one of the means used to preserve the Mithraic Mysteries was the incorporation of a number of their symbolical figures in that curious set of playing cards known as the Tarot, the origin of which has always been a subject of debate.

In Eliphas Lévi’s book Dogme et Rituel de la Haute Magie, we read that in the dark ages when the wise men, or wizards, were persecuted and their secrets threatened with extinction, they decided to have the sacred, magical signs depicted in a pack of playing cards since no one would think of looking in such a place for Divine Wisdom; and vice, in the form of gambling, which perpetuates itself from age to age, would ensure that the cards and their signs were never lost to humanity since they would be kept in continual use. Many of the symbols on these cards are today clearly recognizable as being of Mithraic origin. Among them we find the Crown, the Emperor and Empress, the Pope or Father of fathers, the chariot of Hermes which is Mithras in his Sun chariot, the Judgement, the Hierophant, the Baphomet, or Head of the Goat of Mendes, the Burning Star and Eternal Youth (Mithras having always been alluded to as the brightest orb in the firmament, and represented as being eternally young), the Radiant Sun which is the Sun-God or Prince of Heaven himself, the Fool who is also the Juggler, wearing the cap that identifies him with Augustine’s “Fellow”, and finally, the Pentacle, the Mithraic symbol which ensures the soul free passage in its ascent to the Supernal Light. The prayer which is said to be offered with it almost certainly refers to Mithras whose number has always been seven since we first hear of him as the Seventh Amshaspand:

O first and seventh one, born to rule with power, Chief Word of the Pure Intelligence! Perfect work in the sight of the Father and the Son (Timeless Being and Ormuzd); by presenting unto thee in this seal the sign of life, I open the gate which thy power hath closed to the world, and freely traverse thy domains.

Now the Pentacle is said to be Solomon’s Seal, and Eliphas Lévi received his knowledge of the Tarot from the Kabbalah, of which King writes that many authors erroneously date it later than Christianity whereas its teachings belong to a far more remote antiquity, as is evident from the Book of Daniel with its Kabbalic symbolism. Furthermore:

The idea of Emanation is . . . the soul, the essential element of the Kabbalah; it is likewise… the essential character of Zoroastrianism. We may therefore consider that it was through their very intimate connexion with Persia that the Jews imbibed that idea. According to the Kabbalah, as according to the Zend-Avesta, all that exists has emanated from the source of the Infinite Light … all is an emanation from this Being; the nearer . . . that any approaches to him, the more perfect is it, and the less so does it become, as it recedes from him: this idea of gradation is eminently Persian.

This connexion of the Kabbalah with Mithraism would suggest that we may have stumbled on the explanation of yet another historical mystery—the reason for Julian’s wish and attempt to restore the city and temple of Jerusalem. Both he and Ammianus refer to this in their writings, and of how it was prevented in what seemed to be a supernatural manner by the appearance of alarming globes of fire which killed some of the workmen. This phenomenon was considered to indicate the disapproval of the Gods and the project was abandoned. But many historians have been puzzled by Julian’s attitude to the Jews in that he not only took deliberate measures for alleviating the oppressions felt by them but should also wish to rebuild Solomon’s Temple, the monument to an alien Faith. Our present evidence would seem to point to the fact that on its esoteric side, its Kabbalic teachings, the Faith was not alien, but so akin to that of Maximus and his pupil that they might well have visualized the rebuilt Temple of Solomon as providing yet another repository for their secret doctrines, a fitting shrine for the wise King’s Seal. Moreover the Jews shared Julian’s repellent proclivity for animal sacrifices, their altars being as blood-washed as Mithras’ Taurobolium. (1)

C. W. King suggests the possibility of the Knights Templars having been responsible for the plan of the Tarot Cards at the time of their persecution and dispersal in 1307. This Fraternity is believed to have been the Ancestor of modern Freemasonry. Lessing writes of them:

The Lodges of the Templars were in the very highest repute during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries; and out of such a Templars’ Lodge which had been continually kept up in the heart of London was the Society of Freemasons established in the seventeenth century by Sir Christopher Wren.

This would appear to endorse Michelet’s supposition that some of the Templars who escaped formed secret societies. He tells us in Histoire de France that all except two disappeared in Scotland from whence the highest mysteries of Freemasonry have come, the highest grades being called the Scotch.

It appears that the degrees in Freemasonry have one very strong similarity to those of Mithraism in that the first three do not denote illumination or true initiation, and the neophytes are only admitted into the Mysteries, thus becoming Illuminati, when they reach the Fourth Degree of Scottish Novices; the Fifth Degree being Scottish Knights.

King writes that: “the most important division of French Freemasons style themselves Parisian Templars and say they have kept up the succession of Grand Masters unbroken. François I was said to have burnt alive four men convicted of being Templars. If true this suffices to prove the existence of that fraternity down to a period but little removed from the public manifestation of the Rosicrucians.”

This savagery on the part of a Catholic King would suggest that the vigilance of the church against the survival of any form of the Mithraic cult was still unrelaxed in the sixteenth century. But it was evidently unable to prevent the renaissance of the Mysteries a century later by the Lutheran Mystic, J. V. Andrea, the Founder according to Nicolai, of modern Rosicrucianism.

This man, who was almoner to the Duke of Württemburg, used the Knights Templars badge of the Rosy Cross for his own fraternity, which aimed at fusing all Christian sects into a universal brotherhood. It is interesting to note that Martin Luther’s seal was a Rose and a Cross.

Mithraism may also be traced in modern occultism, especially in astrology and numerology which were prominent features of the Mysteries, and of Babylonian origin. Cumont points out that even before the Roman Emperors had forbidden the exercise of idolatry “their edicts against astrology and magic furnished an indirect means of attacking the clergy and disciples of Mithra”. He also says:

Astrology . . . owes some share of its success to the Mithraic propaganda, and Mithraism is therefore partly responsible for the triumph in the West of this pseudo-science with its long train of errors and terrors… .

But when we have cited all the external, unorthodox hiding places of the Fellow in the Cap from which he has continued to sway the minds and hearts of men, we must not forget that his chief and most dangerous hiding place is in those very minds and hearts. While they harbour his spirit, while the mind craves for dark mysteries and secret doctrines, and is not content with the clear, clean-cut and simple teaching of the Man of Galilee, and while the heart secretly loves and clings to the natural world and all that is in that world proving that the love of the Father is not in it; while it admires and applauds the militaristic virtues, the world-conquering spirit, instead of loving and enthroning the pacific, world-transcending spirit of Jesus the Christ, there can be no real Christianity on earth, nor in the policies of the world. For what is secretly loved must inevitably be manifested. Men may profess to be Christians but their behaviour will always betray them. The nationalism, materialism, violence of the present age clearly reveals not the worship of the Christ but of Mithras.

It is from this final hiding place — the soul of man — that the pagan god must be ejected, and once this is done the search for him may cease. There would be no need to seek through the ages in orthodox and unorthodox places for evidence of his presence and worship in order to dislodge him, for without our hearts and minds through which to function he could not live for a moment. It is our hearts that give him life, our minds that give him power. Withdraw them and enshrine in them instead the compassionate Christ and the real victory over Mithras believed, falsely, to have taken place in the fourth century, would at last, and in our time, be achieved.

1. In this connexion the following citation from The Sibylline Oracles, translated from the Hellenistic-Jewish Texts by the Rev. H. N. Bate, M.A., is of interest:

Thereafter shall there be a holy race of God-fearing men … who will pay honour to the temple of the great God, with the fat and savour of holy hecatombs, with sacrifices of fat bulls and rams without blemish, the first-born of sheep and fat flocks of lambs making holy oblations upon the great altar.” (Book iii, 573-9.)

***

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Etteilla ou le devin du siècle – Etteilla, or the Soothsayer of the Century

Translator’s Introduction

Prior to inaugurating a series of posts on Etteilla as seen by his peers, it would be remiss not to present one piece of curiosa, a musical score devoted to the praises of the great cartomancer himself, by two of his students. The lyrics, by one poetaster by the name of Messageot, accompanied the music of Madame Le Blanc, based on the tune of Dalayrac’s Nina. The tune in question may be heard here. The identity of these two students of Etteilla’s will be dealt with shortly, as will the background to this musical piece.

This music appeared in issue 12 of Etteilla’s journal, which is, in the words of Montague Summers, “of the last rarity.”

***

Etteilla ou le devin du siècle

Etteilla, or the Soothsayer of the Century

Madame Le Blanc, Mistress of the Harpsichord, Student of Rameau

Lyrics by Mr Meſageot, of Villenaux

ETTEILLA
ou
Le Devin du SiècleAvec accompagnement de ClavecinAir ! De Nina

J’ai perdu le plus tendre amant, l’ingrat a t-il une autre amie : ah !
Bientôt cet affreux tourment terminera ma triste vie,
Mais, pour s’instruire, mais pour s’instruire, on va, on va chez le fameux Etteilla, chez le fameux Etteilla.

2

Lise y court y vole Soudain
Cédant à l’espoir, à la crainte ….,
Tremblant, elle avoue au devin,
Les maux dont son âme est atteinte….
Bon jeune Lise, bon jeune Lise
À ça, à ça,
Écoutez bien Etteilla …. (bis)

3

Pour calmer la vive douleur
De cette amante désolée ….,
Le sage lui dit; la douceur
Vous aura bientôt consolée….,
Non jeune Lise, non jeune Lise,
Sans ça, Sans ça,
Plus d’amant, ni d’Etteilla….. (bis)

4

La Rose est la plus belle fleur;
De Zéphir elle est la maitresse….,
Jamais entr’eux la moindre aigreur,
La Rose est douce, elle intéresse….,
Oui soyez douce; Oui soyez douce,
Sans ça, Sans ça,
Plus d’amant, ni d’Etteilla….. (bis)

5

Ce conseil prudent est suivi
Et l’amant revient plus fidèle….,
Le malheur de Lise a servi
À la rendre plus digne d’elle….,
Quoi… jeune Lise, Quoi… jeune Lise,
On a, On a,
Son bonheur par Etteilla….. (bis)

***

ETTEILLA

Or

The Soothsayer of the Century

Accompanied on the Harpsichord

To the tune of Nina

 

I have lost the dearest lover, has that ingrate another girlfriend?

Soon this awful torment will end my sad life,

But, to instruct oneself, but, to instruct oneself, we go, we go, to the famous Etteilla, to the famous Etteilla.

2

Lise runs there, flies there, Suddenly

Giving in to hope, to fear,

Trembling she confesses to the soothsayer

The ills that afflict her soul

Good young Lise, good young Lise,

To that, to that

Listen well to Etteilla (x2)

3

To soothe the sharp pain

Of this saddened lover

The sage tells her, gentleness

Will soon have you consoled.

No, young Lise, no, young Lise,

Without which, without which,

No more lover, nor Etteilla (x2)

4

The Rose is the prettiest flower,

She is the mistress of Zephyr,

Never the slightest bitterness between them,

The Rose is gentle, she garners interest,

Yes, be gentle, yes be gentle,

Without which, without which,

No more lover, nor Etteilla (x2)

5

This prudent advice is followed,

And the lover returns, more faithful,

The sorrows of Lise have served

To make her more worthy of herself,

What, young Lise, what, young Lise,

We get, we get,

Our happiness through Etteilla (x2)

***

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Martine Beauvais: The Tarot of Marseilles: Key to the Prophecies of Nostradamus

Translator’s Introduction

Previously, we have published the only substantive account in English of the Surrealist artist and alchemist, Maurice Baskine and his Tarot deck, as well as an enigmatic diagrammatic representation of the structure of the Tarot trumps. To add to this small but important body of work, we present the following article-interview of Baskine and his research on the works of Nostradamus, in relation to the Tarot. No more than his works on the Tarot, Baskine’s writings on Nostradamus were never published in his lifetime, and we have been unable to determine what has become of his written legacy.

This article was first published in V, 11th June , 1950.

***

The Tarot of Marseilles:

Key to the Prophecies of Nostradamus

Martine Beauvais

If he studies the past, Baskine is also a seer. He has rendered the four elements of the atomic age into a paranoiac sculpture.

A corner of the suburbs of Paris. An old abandoned park there has become the refuge of lovers in search of solitude, and an unexpected playground for the kids of the neighbourhood. A small cottage in the park. A strange character lives there: Maurice Baskine, last of the alchemists.

In his house surrounded by thorn bushes, the solitary man accomplishes a round in Infinity (Baskine spells Infinity as Unfinity*).

A round that is not that of a dreamer. Head accountant, Maurice Baskine had had to verify, and to credit, the strange accounting of Nostradamus. (*)

Nostradamus. A prophet?

– “No, replies Maurice Baskine. The Centuries of Michel de Nostre-Dame, alias Nostradamus, are an alchemical treatise.”

Chance was to place within his hands the two documents which would enable Maurice Baskine to decipher the centuries-old mystery of Nostradamus.

In 1927, Pierre Piobb (*) produced a facsimile edition of the 1668 edition published by Jean Janson of Amsterdam, considered by researchers as being the editio princeps.

– “I am an autodidact, says Maurice Baskine, everything I discovered was revealed to me…”

“The war of 1914 forced me to stop my studies. At the age of 14 I was working in the Crédit Lyonnais. All the while working hard to earn a living, I was slowly climbing the steps of initiation, until the moment in which I found myself in possession of the work of Pierre Piobb.”

“Using the sciences I have studied, it is possible for me to see future events. Yet, it would be impossible for me, just as it would be for anyone else, to condense them into a poetic quatrain as Nostradamus did. And the work of Nostradamus has 944 of them! If a few hundred of these verses have been applied to events which have occurred throughout history, no one has ever been able to decipher one that was to occur in the future. From there to think that the work contained something else, there is but one step. I took that step.

For Baskine, the work of Nostradamus is but a treatise of experimental philosophy: the Palace of Mirages.

Maurice Baskine enjoys relaxing by the columns of knowledge.

– “Nostradamus created the fiction of a little world: the “microcosm”, analogous to the wider world, or “macrocosm”, in which he has his characters evolve, and to which he assigns certain events. The little world evolves on a map: a part of Europe, Africa and Asia Minor. The events therefore occur in different European States. But the battles and massacres of the work will be, in the final analysis, but rounds of checkers and chess.”

It is in the Tarot of Marseilles that Maurice Baskine was able to find the keys which enabled him to crack open the locks to the Nostradamic cryptography.

A curious thing, it was at the very moment that the facsimile edition of the Centuries was published that Mr Paul Marteau (*) of the Grimaud firm (the major playing card publisher), found in the archives of a factory he owned in Marseilles, an edition of the cards which was more accurate than the one he was then printing. He stopped printing the defective Tarot.

It was due to these two documents: Piobb’s document and the Tarot of Marseilles, that Maurice Baskine was able to little by little enter into the work of Michel de Notre-Dame and was able to restore it.

Nostradamus cursed his work. The curse is contained in the sole Latin quatrain of the work, placed above Century VII. (*)

Since Maurice Baskine has undertaken the monumental research for which he was destined, he no longer counts the avatars and the calamities which have rained down upon him. Everything that is contained within that accursed book has turned against the denouncer of evil forces, until the day when the enigma will be completely pierced.

– “The work will soon be liberated, proclaims Baskine. Nostradamus has allowed me to pierce the mystery of his message issued forth to man of the twentieth century, a message which today has become “disintegrated.””

– Martine Beauvais

Translator’s Notes

  • Unfinity: Baskine spells the French word for infinity using the homonymous prefix UN – or ‘one’.
  • On Nostradamus, one will be able to consult a vast amount of material in both English and French.
  • On Pierre Piobb and his thinking on the Tarot, see our series of articles starting here. Piobb’s edition of Nostradamus is available here.
  • On Paul Marteau and his contribution to the world of Tarot, see our extensive series of articles, starting here.
  • The sentence in question, “Qui aliter facit, is ritè, sacer esto“, is in fact a more or less direct quotation from the work De honesta disciplina by the Renaissance scholar Crinitus.

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Tchalaï Unger: Le Tarot Tzigane

Le Tarot Tzigane

Tchalaï Unger

Tchalaï Unger’s seminal work on the Marseilles Tarot has been amply explored on these pages, alongside some of her other writings. Those interested in her work will be delighted to discover that her Tarot Tzigane, first published in 1984 by Grimaud, and long out of print, is once again available courtesy of éditions Trajectoire in France.

This beautifully produced deck of 38 cards comes in a presentation box along with a reprint of the book Le véritable Tarot Tzigane, in full colour, with additional material drawn from the booklet that accompanied the early edition of the deck as well. Our translation of one chapter may be read here.

This deck is now available from the publisher and the usual online outlets.

 

Many thanks to the publisher for graciously sending us a review copy of this wonderful deck.

***


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Yves Lévy: The Emperor

Translator’s Introduction

From the supposed meaning, whether symbolic or cartomantic, of the Tarot cards taken in isolation to their combined values in a divinatory context, the search for meaning naturally extends to the sequential order of the cards, and from there, to structural considerations of a more or less greater profundity, and a more or less greater contrivance. Numerous elaborate theories detailing the supposed inner architecture of the Tarot have been proposed, typically with reference to the Kabbalah, to numerology, to astrology, or to a whole host of interpretations of varying worth and validity.

That is to say that the felicitous marriage of intelligence, insight, historical accuracy and plausibility is a rare bird in the vast literature on the Tarot. One case must be nonetheless be mentioned, the following piece by Yves Lévy, himself a specialist of medieval and Renaissance history and political theory, and a keen connoisseur of the Tarot.

[…]

 

The Emperor

Yves Lévy

Any work, any article at all whatsoever on the Tarot will teach you – if you were not already aware – that the Emperor is will. That is what arcanum IV will be for those who seek to divine the future. It is true that the Tarot is older than its divinatory use, which only dates back to the latter half of the eighteenth century, according to Henri-René d’Allemagne. This series of strange images was first of all a game of cards (but our deck of ordinary playing cards is also used for divination – and more frequently than the Tarot – without having been designed for that purpose). It is also in the eighteenth century, it would seem, that questions began to be asked as to whether these figures – especially those of the major arcana – did not possess some hidden meaning, and perhaps the most fascinating of all hidden meanings: a general interpretation of the universe. On this subject, minds raced, and immediately one commentator sprang all the way back to ancient Egypt, and evokes the mysterious learning of its priests, finds it within the images of the Tarot, and traces out the outlines of a hypothetical transmission of the mystical dictionary in twenty-two articles. Since then, the world of culture is divided on the subject: some believe in the Tarot, and strive to pierce its secret, the greater part do not believe in it and deliberately ignore it.

And yet, one must explain the Tarot all the same. This is a challenge thrown down to us. It is all too easy to turn one’s head away. One would have to be able to deny it. And how could we deny it without having explained it? In order to deny or to affirm, one must explain the Tarot.

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Louis Delbeke: Universal and Omniversal Harmony

Translator’s Introduction

One of the most obscure and curious exegeses of the Tarot, surpassing even the lucubrations of Court de Gébelin’s Monde Primitif, must be the work of the Belgian artist Louis Delbeke (1821-1891). Delbeke’s extensive and incomplete work must rank among the oddest interpretations undertaken concerning the significance of the Tarot cards so far, and yet it also ranks among the least known. This is due no doubt to the very limited circulation of the self-published tomes and the lack of publicity at the time.

A chapter is devoted to Delbeke’s life and work in L’Art Flamand [Flemish Art], by Jules Du Jardin, 1898.

Portrait of Louis Delbeke

“Louis Delbeke made it clear that his seeker’s spirit had been struck by the sublime intelligence of esotericism and that he meant to devote his life to the study of the occult science in which he had the firm conviction, he would discover the seeds of the supreme art!”

His works are described as ” hermeneutic books, sprinkled with schematic drawings, of an abstract ideology, exegeses unfortunately difficult to read for the writer was not possessed of the genius of the French language.” (p. 117)

Delbeke’s influences, according to his biographer, included Éliphas Lévi, Fabre d’Olivet, and Saint-Yves d’Alveydre (ibid.). Delbeke’s symbolic language is composed largely of Biblical scenes, Masonic imagery and depictions of the Greco-Roman pantheon. Certain allusions to astrology, alchemy and various other religious traditions can equally be seen.

A comprehensive review of the work, indeed, the only one, taken from the catalogue of the Librairie Nourry, reads as follows:

L’Harmonie Universelle, by the learned initiate Louis Delbeke, is a work of high occultism which was never commercially released and was reserved for a mysterious association of mages. The master explains the Universal and Omniversal Harmony by means of the keys of hermeticism (alchemy), the Kabbalah, astrology, magic, the astral light, numbers, the Apocalypse, and the Tarot. Never before has such a complete concordance between the abstract and the concrete, the invisible and the visible, been established; and so, the reader will find, within these somewhat forbidding but transcendent pages, the revelation of the hieroglyphs of the great book of nature. The language of the birds, which one must understand symbolically, enlightens the great religious and political mysteries for, says the author, the hermetic philosopher has hidden therein the genius of the Egyptian arcana and knowledge of the absolute. The part devoted to the various nations in their relations with the laws of number, the planets and the zodiac, is particularly suggestive and the events have justified Delbeke’s predictions. Finally, the different religions, notably those of Egypt and of India, are more particularly considered according to the arcana of the Tarot. The economy of this remarkable work hinges from one end to the other on the two messianisms: the Christ of light and the Christ of darkness. For the author, Christ corresponds to the second phase of the Tarot, he lets flow the waters of justice which have their origin in Agni, Vishnu, etc; but he announces a new Moses who, addressing himself to the intelligences, will bring back the reign of the spirit into the world. One must also note the mission of Saint John in the foundation of Freemasonry and the secret societies. But we must refrain from an analysis of this powerful book. A more in-depth study would lie largely beyond the scope of a brochure. This work, undertaken with the help of a sponsor, was interrupted by his death. It remains unfinished, but such as it is, it deserves a place of choice in the libraries of occultism.

By way of introduction to the multi-faceted thought of this little-known Belgian artist, we present some excerpts from his work.

***

Universal and Omniversal Harmony

Louis Delbeke

 

The hermetic art as science is the interpreter of the Olympian gods as well as the earthly powers. By Olympian gods we mean the intellectual powers of the flourishing world, or the learned Oriental element, which preceded the reign of philosophical science, the preserve of the Egyptians. This Oriental science, finally summarised in Zoroaster, was elaborated in the tree of life; a tree laden with apples, and hidden within the bosom of the mysterious garden known as the Garden of the Hesperides. The golden apples are akin to the Tarot: it is an assembly of enigmatic portraits of which our deck of cards gives a fairly vague idea. This assembly of living portraits encloses the entire secret game of the universal harmony.

– Harmonie universelle: quelques notions sur l’absolu en science et en art ou la loi du vrai et du beau, 1861, p. 13.

The Tarot, a series of emblematic images, depicts by means of a certain number of tableaux, the phases which a regularly organised society must undergo before reaching its fulfilment. This Tarot, image of the Great Work, encloses moreover allegorical and emblematic images which constitute the representation of the phases which the must work must undergo, in the form of the four suits or typical formulae, the powers which, akin to satellites, come to help the accomplishment of the goal; they are the active limbs of the game, the arms which push the wheel or the Great Work, until its complete accomplishment.

These same arms, we possess them in our decks of cards; they are distinguished by colour as by form. The suit of hearts was distinguished in the occult science under the denomination of cups, or composed or parabolic lines. Our diamonds were called staffs, or straight lines or right angles. The spades were flaming swords or spirals, or tendrils. The clubs in the [occult] science were called wheels, circles, coins or dragons.

Each of these active forces, called to push the social wheel, belongs, according to its nature, to one of the four agglomerations of islands surrounding Europe. The cups belong to the Italian islands: this is the preserve of the priest and that of the poet; the staffs, or straight lines or right angles, belong to the islands of Greece: this is the preserve of the prince and that of the shepherd; the sword or flaming line belongs to the British isles; this is the preserve of the judge and of the warrior; the circle or coin, the so-called clubs, belong to the islands of the north: this is the preserve of the merchant and of the historiographer-geologist.

(vol. 2 pp. 75-76)

As above, so below, may be interpreted as follows: the Tarot is akin to the Zohar, the face of the Devil is akin to the face of God; the one is dark and palpable, the other is white and abstract, both have the same origin, emanating from the edenic science, each rendering in its own way the various phases of the Great Work of universal creation. In effect, the Tarot, regardless of the transformation of its figures, by the depth of its thought which governs the pictures which form the three receptacles, depicts the universal creation in every respect with that fidelity and that accuracy which are the preserve of all that is absolute in matter of living science, and that is why, next to God or light, a shadow will appear to affirm the radiance of the light and the complete the whole, in the same way, the Tarot will remain akin to a witness of the Zohar and of all the edenic science which is the luminous principal of all knowledge and of all truth, with respect to the succession of things in the domain of creation and the spiritualisation of the world.

(vol. 3 , pp. 4-5)

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Thierry Depaulis: B.-P. Grimaud, or Cards in the Industrial Age

Translator’s Introduction

Previously, we have published various materials relating to Paul Marteau, his writings and deck, Grimaud and the Tarot of Marseilles, and pending publication of further documentation, this article, published in the late 1980s in the gaming magazine Jeux & stratégie as part of a series by Tarot historian Thierry Depaulis, provides a concise and highly readable overview of the history of the Grimaud card company.

This series, profusely illustrated and well-documented, forms a mini history in itself of games and gaming throughout the ages, especially in France.

This article was originally published in Jeux & stratégie n° 47, Excelsior Publications, October 1987. Read the original French here. Published with the kind permission of the author.

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B.-P. Grimaud, or Cards in the Industrial Age

Thierry Depaulis

All players of cards know the name of Baptiste-Paul Grimaud, written on almost 80% of the decks sold in France. Less well known is the exemplary history of this enterprising captain of industry.

Baptiste-Paul Grimaud was born in Brulain (Deux-Sèvres) in 1817. “Gone up” to Paris at the age of twenty-three to make his fortune, he first of all sets himself up as a “transport commissioner”, a profession which the growth of railways and means of transport made indispensable.

But he certainly has something better to do; in 1851, the chance to become a manufacturer of playing cards presented itself to him. Alexandre-Eugène Martineau and Marcel Bourru had chosen to become associates to commercialise patent number 6103, patented in 1847 by Henri-Eumènes Roche, “chemist in Paris” – and who had left it to them – for the manufacture of so-called “opaque” playing cards. Set up in 66 rue de Bondy (presently rue René Boulanger, 10th arrondissement of Paris), then in number 70, Bourru and Martineau sold their business the following year to Grimaud.

The First Associates

Baptiste-Paul Grimaud was on the lookout for the slightest “deal.” Therefore he associated himself with a certain Marchand in 1853 to manufacture playing cards and domino cards. Then he decided to take part in the Universal Exposition in Paris and received an “honourable mention.” Always hungry for innovation, Grimaud signed a contract with Jean-Marie Blaquière, on March 1st 1856, to buy out his patent for “aerofrugal” or “wafer” cards, as well as the special machine he had designed.

But the great technological leap was the appearance of the metallic rounded corners, which seemingly no one had thought of before, and which Firmin Chappelier had just invented. On the 21st of January 1858, an exchange of letters sealed the deal and in a way cornered the market. Chappelier outlined the marvellous advantages of cards with rounded corners and moreover spoke of taking out patents abroad; he did not hesitate to say that “there is a fortune to be made in a very short time”! The contract was thus signed between Grimaud and Chappelier on the 25th of July 1858. This laid out the sale of the new invention to Grimaud, in exchange for 1,200 francs per month for four years to Chappelier.

The Growth of the Enterprise

In April 1865, Grimaud leaves the premises in rue de Bondy, which had become too small, to set up not very far from there, in 54 rue de Lancry (10th arrondissement of Paris), where the sign B.-P. Grimaud is still visible today above the courtyard doorway. In 1866, B.-P. Grimaud takes on a new associate called Chartier. A financial contribution which will powerfully help our manufacturer. Little by little, new machines are set to work. Then, Léo Marteau (Baptiste-Paul’s nephew) becomes an associate. In 1877, a patent – the first registered by Grimaud – marks the appearance of the corner index, today in universal use. Grimaud is then the largest French card manufacturer, and his appetite has no limits. From 1876, he buys the material and models for the cards of the famous Épinal imagery from Charles Pellerin. The latter had recently decided to end this ancestral activity, of which competition had reduced the profitability. In 1885, Grimaud bought out 65% of the capital of Camoin, in Marseilles, who had been his main rival; in 1888, the two companies merged all the while keeping their independence. Grimaud was then employing 200 workers in Paris. In 1891, the Parisian company Lequart and Mignot is bought out, followed by Bony in Lunéville, Dieudonné in Angers, and Fossorier and Amar in Paris (in 1910).

The Successors of Baptiste-Paul Grimaud

Baptiste-Paul Grimaud dies in 1899, at the age of 82. Immediately, his nephews Léo and Georges Marteau take the reins of the company. But Georges Marteau dies in 1916, not before having left his superb collection of antique playing cards to the Bibliothèque Nationale. The company then becomes known as “Chartier, Marteau et Boudin,” and remains as such until 1962. In 1920, Léo dies in turn, leaving Paul Marteau alone at the head of Grimaud. The man is more interested in philosophy than in industrial methods: in 1930 he will launch the “Ancient Tarot of Marseilles” which has since fascinated generations of occultists.

But the war and the loss of the colonial markets, the ageing machines and methods, the disappearance of the State monopoly in 1945, deal a blow to the health of the prestigious firm. In 1962, Jean-Marie Simon (of “La Ducale”, in Nancy), buys out the declining empire, but only the brand and the clientele are retained, with a new company called “J.M.S.-France Cartes,” within the bosom of the Parker Brothers group, which itself will later be bought out by the American General Mills group, who then become owners of what remains of Grimaud in 1968. The business then passes from these American hands to the German Jany group, the owners of ASS, the German equivalent of France-Cartes.

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Notes

A more comprehensive picture of the complexities behind the recent history of Grimaud has been kindly provided by the author:

Grimaud was first of all bought out (from the Marteau family) in 1963 by a consortium led by Jean-Marie Simon, associated with the Amalgamated Playing Card Co. (Waddington and Thomas De La Rue). This group took the name Ets Jean-Marie Simon France-Cartes. In 1969, De La Rue retires, and Waddington sells France-Cartes (and therefore Grimaud) to Parker, which had just been bought out in the US by General Mills (a group specialising in baking and biscuits).

The Miro Company had in the meantime also been bought out by Parker, and also found itself in the ‘games’ portfolio of General Mills in France… In 1980, all these branches (France-Cartes, Miro, Capiepa, Meccano…) were grouped into one sole entity, named Miro-Meccano, which became “General Mills Jeux et Jouets” in 1984. But in 1986, General Mills sold its toys and games interests to Hasbro, which immediately sold off France-Cartes to Hans Jany, leader of ASS in Leinfelden-Echterdingen in Germany.

However, Jany’s personal bankruptcy led to the sale of Grimaud-France-Cartes to Yves Weisbuch in 1989. Weisbuch had bought out the Héron firm (in Mérignac, near Bordeau) in 1986 from the Boéchat family, who had moved there from Switzerland shortly before WWII. In 1989, following Jany’s bankruptcy, he bought out Grimaud-France-Cartes, which he rebuilt and lead for many years before his death. Both companies would be merged as the Compagnie Européenne de Cartes, but Héron would be closed down in 2002.

Later, the Weisbuch family, then owners of Grimaud-France-Cartes, would sell the business to the Belgian giant CartaMundi in 2014.

Image courtesy of the Canadian Museum of History.

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Introduction to Monique Streiff Moretti: The Isis of the Tarot, or the Birth of a Myth

The Isis of the Tarot, or the Birth of a Myth

Monique Streiff Moretti

Translator’s Introduction

A subterranean current is awakened by the growing prestige of an unknown civilisation to become a genuine obsession. Begun in a mixture of folk and classical traditions, the Egyptian tale takes shape and develops beneath the sign of erudition. All the ancient and modern writings, unknown authors, are all gathered and methodically commented, to which are added exegeses and scholia. An archaeology and an iconography of monuments, whether authentic, imaginary or false, linguistic, ethnological and scientific systems are all set to the task. It is a baroque architecture in the making to the glory of a fantastic Egypt. The legend of a myth, which was itself a work of poetry and a novel, often reaches the domains of the absurd, and evolves in the impossible. This is why the mythographers of our time have generally excluded it from the fields of their preoccupations, or neglected it.

– Jurgis Baltrušaitis, La Quête d’Isis, Flammarion, p.13.

Statue of Isis

The phenomenon known as “Egyptomania” is the subject of a growing body of literature, from various points of view, from among which the interested reader may consult the following general works: Bob Brier, Egyptomania: Our Three Thousand Year Obsession with the Land of the Pharaohs, St. Martin’s Press, 2013; Ronald H. Fritze, Egyptomania: A History of Fascination, Obsession and Fantasy, Reaktion Books, 2016; James Stevens Curl, Egyptomania: The Egyptian Revival, a Recurring Theme in the History of Taste, Manchester University Press, 1994; or the following articles: Claudia Gyss, “The Roots of Egyptomania and Orientalism: From The Renaissance to the Nineteenth Century,” in Desmond Hosford et Chong J. Wojtkowski eds., French Orientalism: Culture, Politics, and the Imagined Other, Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2010 [pp.106-123]; Jean-Marcel Humbert, “Egyptomania”, in Michel Delon (ed.), Encyclopedia of the Enlightenment, vol. 1: A-L, Routledge, 2001, or Antoine Faivre’s entry in the Dictionary of Gnosis & Western Esotericism, s.v. ‘Egyptomany,’ Brill, 2005. On the subject of the hieroglyphs and their study, one may profitably consult The Myth of Egypt and Its Hieroglyphs in European Tradition by Erik Iversen, Princeton University Press, 1993. More directly relevant to our subject is Erik Hornung’s The Secret Lore of Egypt, Cornell University Press, 2001. For a scholarly translation and analysis of the myth of Isis and Osiris, see the works Plutarch’s De Iside et Osiride (1970) and The Origins of Osiris and his Cult (1980) by J. Gwyn Griffiths. Incidentally, Isis Studies is a growing academic discipline in its own right, with a concomitant body of literature.

The study of the influence of this Egyptomania on the Tarot, its iconography and its historiography, has not escaped the attention of scholars, and there are now a number of works dealing with this aspect of Tarot history and myth in some depth. A Cultural History of Tarot (2009) by Helen Farley is one such example. Unfortunately, this work is very uneven and marred by all manner of mistakes. One example, not to labour the point, is that the crude illustrations in volume 8 of Court de Gébelin’s Le Monde Primitif are attributable – “probably” – to … Jean-Marie Lhôte! No one would be more surprised to learn this than the man himself, still among us, at over 94 years of age, although he would no doubt be delighted at this circular turn of events, he himself being responsible for identifying the artist, one Mademoiselle Linot. The article Out of Africa: Tarot‟s Fascination With Egypt by the same author is little more than a descriptive and uncritical list of dates, names and books, without any serious analysis, although it may be useful as a reference timeline.

For an in-depth examination of the origins and development of the so-called “occult Tarot,” one must turn to A Wicked Pack of Cards. The Origins of the Occult Tarot, by Ronald Decker, Thierry Depaulis, and Michael Dummett, Duckworth, 2002; and for a fairly comprehensive overview of the general background and later fortune of this “occult Tarot”, A History of the Occult Tarot by Michael Dummett and Ronald Decker, Duckworth, 2002. These two books, along with Dummett’s groundbreaking The Game of Tarot (1980), may be considered the fundamental works on the subject in English, although they very much focus on the personalities behind the writings on the occult Tarot rather than on the milieu that gave rise to them. Typically, works on the subject tend to focus on the Renaissance and the hermeticising or neo-Platonic circles of the time, rather than on the more pertinent developments of the Enlightenment, most notably Freemasonry.

The book by the Egyptologist, Erik Hornung, The Secret Lore of Egypt, Cornell University Press, 2001, is perhaps the work that comes closest to providing the most comprehensive examination of the Egyptian question from the point of view of cultural and intellectual history. However, despite containing one chapter devoted to Freemasonry and another to the Tarot, only one line in each mentions the subject of the present article: Court de Gébelin’s singular and seminal contribution, the two essays on the Tarot found in the eighth volume of his Monde primitif analysé et comparé avec le monde moderne [“The Primeval World, Analyzed and Compared to the Modern World”], published in 1781. The chapter on Freemasonry provides insight into the early Egyptian-inspired Masonic rites and regimes, but otherwise focuses on the figure of Cagliostro, while the chapter on Tarot focuses on later periods, from the Parisian occultists of the Belle Époque and the Theosophical Society to more recent developments. This is all the more regrettable in that Baltrušaitis’ earlier work, cited in epigraph, also lacks a chapter on the subject, as the author of the following piece notes.

A more recent work, Napoleon’s Sorcerers, by art historian Darius Spieth, sheds light on the murky world of the Sophisians, an obscure sect of para-Masonic origin, who had concrete links to Egypt by way of Napoleon’s military campaign in that country (1798-1801). Although that work does not mention the Tarot, and the society in question in fact very slightly post-dates Court de Gébelin’s work, it provides extensive insight into the origins, members, activities and goals of a contemporaneous secret society entirely taken by the myth of Egyptian wisdom. One must bear in mind, in this respect, that the theory of the supposed Egyptian origins of the Tarot is coterminous to that which imputes the same origins to Freemasonry, as well as to the elaboration of the first rites of so-called Egyptian Masonry by the adventurer known as Cagliostro, which we may now date to 1781. (Leaving aside putative predecessors, information on which is scarce and subject to caution, and which will be the subject of a future essay.) Egyptologist Florence Quentin summarises the issue by saying: “The egyptomania of the 18th century and the beginnings of Masonry were contemporaneous, they mingled all the more easily in that the role of religion and its institutions were then being debated.” (Isis l’Eternelle, Albin Michel 2021, p. 187) On the links between Freemasonry and Egypt, whether real or imaginary, one will consult the book by Barbara De Poli, Freemasonry and the Orient: Esotericisms between the East and the West, 2019, especially chapters 1-3.

This is by no means an exhaustive, or even a critical bibliography. One of the most fundamental works on the subject remains unavailable in English translation, La Quête d’Isis by the Lithuanian art historian Jurgis Baltrušaitis. Similarly, an accurate and scholarly edition of Court de Gébelin’s 40-odd pages on the Tarot in English is as yet a major desideratum, despite an annotated edition by one of the leading scholars being available in French for four decades. The translations of the essays by Court and de Mellet by the polemicist Jess Karlin (pseudonym of Glenn F. Wright) in his Rhapsodies of the Bizarre, and the very recent publication of Donald Tyson’s Essential Tarot Writings, go some way to address this lacuna, and generous excerpts are provided in the works by Dummett et al. listed above, to which we may add the new translations by David Vine and Dantzel Cenatiempo. We have already noted that a period manuscript translation by General Rainsford has also been digitised. This is to say that, despite this profusion of works on the subject, there is very little to definitively give the lie to Baltrušaitis as quoted above.

The context provided by works such as those listed above, and especially, those by Lhôte , Hornung, Spieth, and Baltrušaitis, to which we may also add the 2 volumes of Auguste Viatte’s Les sources occultes du romantisme (1928), sheds much-needed light on the manner in which what may now appear as merely “bad history,” conjectural speculation tarted up as fact, or even deliberate mystification, managed to mask itself to later generations of researchers and historians, with the predictable result that it would be first assigned – faute de mieux – to history, and later, written off by mainstream scholars as pertaining to the domain of fiction – rather than being dealt with, as it behoves, as an attempt at historiography, or a fortiori, mythography.

Knowledge of this context is crucial in order to arrive at a critical understanding of the accumulated elucubrations of almost two and half centuries of Tarot literature, which is the point of the following article, the signal importance of which consists in, not in the mere lining up of a series of facts and conjectures, but in interpreting the facts such as they are known, with close reference to the primary text, the sources upon which the author drew for its elaboration, its presiding ideas and thrust, as well as the uses to which it was put. That is to say that it conclusively demonstrates Court de Gébelin’s writings as being the articulation of the founding myth of the occult Tarot.

Portrait of Court de Gébelin

One major flaw in the existing Tarot literature, whether popular or scholarly, has been to neglect to examine Court’s writings on the Tarot within the context of his greater body of work, a most unfortunate omission. Added to this, taking his speculations on the Tarot at face value, or by the same token, rejecting them outright, has also resulted in some equally unfortunate misunderstandings. The purpose of publishing this translation is to present a more nuanced view of the origins of the so-called occult Tarot, and to provide further indications which the interested reader may choose to pursue.

Bucking the trend, mention must be made, once again, of Dummett, Decker and Depaulis, who call Le Monde Primitif “a monument to misdirected erudition” (op. cit. p. 56), an assessment that is harsh but fair, though, as we shall see, it is perhaps the latter who are misdirected as to the true intent of the work. In any event, A Wicked Pack of Cards (pp. 56-57) gives a very brief overview of the work and its content. For a comprehensive summary of the thought of Court de Gébelin in English, one must consult F. E. Manuel’s ’The Great Order of Court de Gébelin’ in the work The Eighteenth-Century Confronts the Gods, Harvard University Press, 1959. Ronald Grimsley’s From Montesquieu to Laclos: Studies on the French Enlightenment (Droz, 1974, pp. 23-26) provides a good summary of Court’s ideas, although citations are left untranslated. We have adapted his opening summary and translated the citations into English.

“Convinced of the universality of language, he proposed to seek “the analogy of all languages,” which were ultimately to be reduced to a single form – “the primitive language bestowed by nature.” More especially, he insisted on the idea of a universal order and harmony in which every particular element had its appointed place. Language therefore, was not the result of mere chance but followed the universal rule that “everything has a cause and a reason.” Moreover, since the spoken word is given by nature herself, “nature alone can guide us in the search for all she has produced, and alone can explain the wonders of speech.” Gébelin believed that with “nature” and “primitive religion” as his guide, he could make an illuminating philological study of ancient religion, mythology and history.”

Another reason Court’s work has been systematically overlooked in the Tarot world is the fact that, by and large, the only sustained attention it has received has been in largely unpublished doctoral theses, unavailable to the general reader, and treating of philology, linguistics and seemingly unrelated specialised subjects. Let us cite a couple, for the enterprising reader: Joseph George Reish, Antoine Court de Gébelin, Eighteenth-Century Thinker and Linguist. An Appraisal, University of Wisconsin-Madison, 1972; William Henry Alexander, Antoine Court de Gébelin and his Monde Primitive, Stanford, 1974. For more accessible analyses of this dense work, one must consult Gérard Genette’s ‘Generalized Hieroglyphics’ in Mimologics, University of Nebraska Press, 1995; and especially, Anne-Marie Mercier-Faivre’s important body of work, notably, ‘Le Monde primitif d’Antoine Court de Gébelin, ou le rêve d’une encyclopédie solitaire,’ ‘Antoine Court de Gébelin et le mythe des origines,’ in Porset and Révauger, Franc-maçonnerie et religions dans l’Europe des Lumières, Champion, 1988; ‘Le Langage d’Images de Court de Gébelin’ in Politica Hermetica vol. 11, 1997; Un supplément à « l’Encyclopédie » : le «Monde Primitif» d ‘Antoine Court de Gébelin, suivi d’une édition du « Génie allégorique et symbolique de l’Antiquité », extrait du «Monde Primitif» (1773), Champion, 1999; and, in English, her biographical entry on Court in the Dictionary of Gnosis and Western Esotericism, Brill, 2005. Above all, let us cite the crucial essay by Dan Edelstein, “The Egyptian French Revolution: antiquarianism, Freemasonry and the mythology of nature,” in Dan Edelstein ed., Super-Enlightenment: Daring to Know Too Much, Oxford University Press, 2010, pp. 215-241.

The idea that secular Masonic ideals sought to replace Christian values is one dear to Catholic apologists, repentant (or unabashed) Freemasons and conspiracy theorists of all stripes, beginning with Barruel’s Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire du Jacobinisme in 1797-1798, Cadet de Gassicourt’s Le Tombeau de Jacques de Molay, ou Histoire secrète et abrégée des initiés anciens et modernes, templiers, francs-maçons, illuminés, 1796-1797, and John Robison’s Proofs of a Conspiracy against all the Religions and Governments of Europe, carried on in the Secret Meetings of Free-Masons, Illuminati and Reading Societies, 1798, to name but a few. Although this theory of the Masonic origins of the French Revolution has been disproved in its particulars, there is nonetheless a certain commonality of purpose among these movements and societies that must be examined, pace Albert Soboul and his La franc-maçonnerie et la Révolution française, as shown by Charles Porset in his Hiram Sans‑Culotte ? Franc-maçonnerie, Lumières et Révolution (Honoré Champion, 1998). This is equally true of what may be called the “myth of Egypt” and its contribution to Enlightenment or revolutionary ideals, a contribution detailed in the article by Michel Malaise, La révolution française et l’Égypte ancienne.

This is also the view of mainstream scholars, such as Claudia Gyss, who writes that: “Concurrent with the evolution of views on Egypt from the fantastic to the scientific and Orientalism, Egyptian art also served political functions. […] Egyptian art became an instrument of propaganda, and antiquity became the object of a true cult.” (op. cit., p. 116.) Similarly, Florence Quentin notes that: “All these fables (which relate, as we have seen, to egyptomania) will fuel a revolutionary movement which will seek to emancipate itself from Christian authority by attempting to establish a syncretism which would unify all the cults of humanity. … In its effort to struggle against Christianity all the while opening up other symbolic and religious (in the sense of religare, “to bind”) fields, the Revolution will in its turn make use of Isis.” (Isis l’Eternelle, Albin Michel 2021, pp. 176/191) Dame Frances Yates notes that, “The cult of a Supreme Being, using Egyptian symbols, was the religion of the Revolution.”  Baltrušaitis, for his part, states that: “The Revolution combatted the Church by reanimating the Egyptian divinities” (op. cit. p. 46); “Egyptian theogony became a instrument of atheism, and at the same time, a temptation, and a secret belief” (p. 79); and “Egypt is no longer a myth that rubs shoulders with the Old Testament and which is elevated by the vision of the Gospels, which it prefigures. The Egyptian myth now serves to dismantle Christianity, reduced to the category of a primitive religion. […] Every anti-religious struggle ends in religion. It is less the destruction of one cult than its replacement by another. Christianity being, for the theoreticians of sidereal dogmas, a later, disfigured form of the first theogony of man, the truth is reestablished in a return to the origins. […] A Freemasonic fantasy? Perhaps… but beneath the signs of the times, for all the promoters of these intellectual systems, from Court de Gébelin to Lenoir were Freemasons.” (pp. 307-308.) As far as Court is concerned, as Baltrušaitis says, “by his encyclopaedic spirit and his liberalism, he belongs to the line of philosophers and economists who prepared the Revolution.” (op. cit. p. 28.) Frances Yates will not say otherwise: “Gébelin died before the outbreak of the Revolution but he held an important position in the intellectual world of liberals and philosophes which was moving toward it.” (op. cit.)

Edelstein cogently notes:

“There were two crucial links connecting Revolutionary culture and ancient Egypt. First, Freemasonry had made Egyptian mythology both respectable and popular; in the hands of Antoine Court de Gébelin, it even became the vehicle of the true, original religion of humanity.” (Edelstein, op. cit., p. 216)

“… If the golden age really had existed in Egypt, and was not just as poetic fiction, then it could conceivably serve as the model for future social and political transformation.” (ibid. p. 217)

“Through the medium of Antoine Court de Gébelin, Masonry’s appropriation of Egyptian culture helped redeem the maligned body of pagan mythology. Court de Gébelin accomplished this feat in his multi-volume Monde primitif, a gargantuan study of the language, beliefs, social structure and scientific knowledge of a vaguely defined primitive world, but one which was closely associated with Egypt. (ibid. p.220)

“Not only did he there portray the monde primitif as an embodiment of Masonic social ideals, but he used Masonic symbolism to decipher the mysteries of ancient myths. (ibid. p.221)

The peculiarly mythographic type of subversive undertaking would be further developed by Charles-François Dupuis in his ambitious Origine de tous les Cultes, ou la Réligion Universelle, published in 1795 to Masonic acclaim. Incidentally, Dupuis’ work also allegedly contributed to spark Napoleon’s Egyptian campaign – yet another Egyptian connection, although the political, military and commercial reasons for the campaign remain much more prosaic. (On the Egyptian Campaign, see Napoleon in Egypt by Paul Strathern, Napoleon’s Egypt by Juan Cole, Bonaparte in Egypt by J. Christopher Herold, and Mirage: Napoleon’s Scientists and the Unveiling of Egypt by Nina Burleigh. On Freemasonry and the Egyptian expedition, see Les francs-maçons de l’Expédition d’Egypte by Alain Quéruel.) Dupuis, writing in the Revolutionary era, was able to go further than Court had in his critical interpretation of religion and myth. Dupuis, “disciple of the astronomer and Freemason Lalande and successor of Court de Gébelin, is frequently quoted with approval in the freemasonic writings. He also thinks that the base of all religions is exactly the same. It is simply sun-worship, or the worship of nature or the generative forces, born in Egypt. The various fables and myths, including Christianity, are but astronomical allegories, of which the most recent are the most bizarre. In effect, the dominant idea of his Origin of All Religious Worship is that Christianity is but a fiction or an error, a sequence of allegories copied on the sacred fictions of the Orientals. Even more critical than Court de Gébelin, Dupuis describes religions as diseases to be eliminated.” (Helena Rosenblatt, ‘Nouvelles perspectives sur De la religion: Benjamin Constant et la Franc-maçonnerie’, Annales Benjamin Constant, N° 23-24, 2000, p. 146.) F. E. Manuel sums up the nature of their works accurately when he states that, “The writings of Court de Gébelin and Dupuis … are memorable more for their influence – like the revolutionary oratory they resemble – than for their intrinsic worth …” (op. cit. p. 249) Dupuis’ lasting contribution to religious studies, in one way or another, will have been the elaboration of the controversial ‘Christ Myth‘ theory.

Another eminent Freemason and Egyptianising savant, Alexandre Lenoir, would also follow more or less directly in Court’s footsteps, elevating the myth of Egypt to ever more dizzying heights in his work La franche-maçonnerie rendue à sa véritable origine, and in his numerous other works of Egyptology. The works of Freemasons such as Nicolas de Bonneville, Lenoir, Ragon, and the other successors of Court explicitly outline the perceived elective affinities between the hieratic initiatory institutions of ancient Egypt, on the one hand, and the progressive and equally initiatory Masonic values on the other. Rosenblatt (op. cit., pp. 148-149) provides entire pages of relevant – and highly telling – quotations, which only serve to highlight the fundamental  and inherent contradiction between the elitist, esoteric, nature of Freemasonry, and its professed egalitarianism and rationalism. This paradox forms the basis for the detailed article by Michel Malaise, La révolution française et l’Égypte ancienne.  Another contradiction, symbolic this time, is further underlined by Hornung when he notes that the orientation of the modern Masonic myth of Egypt “is not toward the “Beautiful West” of the ancient Egyptian afterlife but rather toward the “Eternal East.”” (op. cit., p. 127.)

Je suis toujours la grande Isis! Nul n’a encore soulevé mon voile! – Odilon Redon, 1896.

As Dame Frances Yates noted in her review of Sir Michael Dummett’s book, “The role of Freemasonry, with its Hermetic-Egyptian rituals, is a force very much to be reckoned with in all this movement.” (In the Cards, New York Review of Books, February 19, 1981.) Further examining the matter, Jean-Marcel Humbert says that, “The ties uniting Freemasonry – which officially drew its vital strength from the sources of ancient Egypt – to Isis are of course very close, as with Egyptomania in general.” (Jean-Marcel Humbert, ‘Les nouveaux mystères d’Isis, ou les avatars d’un mythe du XVIe au XXe siècle,’ in L. Bricault ed. De Memphis à Rome, 2000, p. 171) And as the Masonic historian Gérard Galtier states, “There exists, thus […] a revolutionary element in the Egyptian Rites which is their spiritual reference and their desire for an attachment to a non-Christian tradition. Note that during the Revolution itself, the Egyptian influence affected the revolutionary cults, such as that devoted to the goddess Reason.” (Gérard Galtier, ‘L’époque révolutionnaire et le retour aux Mystères antiques : la naissance des rites égyptiens de la maçonnerie,’ in Politica Hermetica n°3, « Gnostiques et mystiques autour de la Révolution française », 1989, p. 124)

The question then arises as to how and why the Freemasons of the late 18th century became associated in such an enterprise, namely, the reanimation of an Egyptian deity, to use Baltrušaitis’s terms, when many of them were in fact devout Christians, whether Catholic or Protestant, and in some cases, churchmen themselves. One must bear in mind that the anti-clericalism associated with French Freemasonry only took off in earnest from the mid-nineteenth century. The schism within Freemasonry, resulting in the so-called Anglo-Saxon and Continental traditions, dates to 1869, then 1877, when the split was fully consummated on account of the French Grand Orient removing the need for candidates to profess a theistic belief. This answer to this question lies both at the periphery, and paradoxically, at the heart of the matter.

One may surmise that perceived deeper affinities between religions of antiquity and the Christian faith led to a certain Masonic form of perennialism, following which the outward religious form was considered but a simulacrum; changeable, replaceable, and ultimately disposable. This notion of elective affinities between Freemasonry and the reanimated goddess, so to speak, or so-called Goddess worship, has even led some to think that the phenomenon was a conscious and deliberate one. See, for example, the decidedly unscholarly but nonetheless interesting work by William Bond, Freemasonry And The Hidden Goddess, which elaborates considerably on this point. The feminist egyptologist Florence Quentin, for her part, will state that: “In Masonry, the goddess always appears beneath the surface, as though it were impossible to get rid of the feminine from every initiation or authentic spiritual path, were they “reserved” to circles of men… […] It is difficult, as we see, in a period in which the Convention has overthrown the dominant religion, to escape symbolisation (which has been definitively shown to structure society), especially if it takes the shape of the universal Great Mother…” (Isis l’Eternelle, Albin Michel 2021, p. 189) The article by Jean-Marcel Humbert, ‘Les nouveaux mystères d’Isis, ou les avatars d’un mythe du XVIe au XXe siècle,’ (in L. Bricault ed. De Memphis à Rome, 2000, pp. 163-188) provides a thorough academic overview of the process of this “reanimation” and its various avatars.

One of the more curious features of Court’s work, which lends a certain amount of credence to the foregoing speculation, is pointed out by Edelstein: “Court’s insistence on the sun and the moon as perfect divine symbols cannot (to my knowledge) be traced back to any prior text, and is not explicitly addressed in the work itself. Their privileged status may be explained by the centrality of the sun and the moon in Masonic culture and practice.” (op. cit. p.222) Indeed, neither Macrobius, who insists on the centrality of the sun, nor Plutarch, who penned an essay entitled De Facie in Orbe Lunæ, report any such dualism.

Further considerations of this type lie beyond the scope of the present introduction, suffice to say that the use of myth, in this respect, could be examined more closely in the Sorelian perspective, to name but one, in addition to that of Lévi-Strauss.

The ultimately socio-political nature of Court de Gébelin’s enterprise is further underscored by Sophia Rosenfeld, who writes that:

“many of the initial members of the Loge des Neuf Soeurs […] manifested a profound interest in prescriptive language planning and semiotic experimentation, moving away from “usage” or “custom” toward an historic notion of “nature” or “reason” as a guideline. Furthermore, the members of this latter group tended to see their plans for improved communication as efforts on behalf of the good of the public as a whole. Indeed, some even argued that rational language reform would ultimately be instrumental in bringing about cognitive and, consequently, social and moral transformations in the future.

Especially important in this regard was the work of Antoine Court de Gébelin, whose home has become the meeting place for the lodge beginning in 1778. Throughout the decade of the 1770s, in a series of massive volumes entitled Le Monde primitif analysé et comparé avec le monde moderne, Court de Gébelin had set about trying to rediscover and to catalogue the original, universal mother tongue, the collection of radical sounds and images he took to be given by and representative of nature – or, in Genette’s terms, “mimological” – rather than arbitrary. […] But it is important note that what drove Court de Gébelin in this quest was not simply antiquarianism or a fascination with the burgeoning field of comparative linguistics. The physiocratic philosopher believed that the discovery and reconstruction of this original idiom, or protolanguage, would allow modern men nothing less than a chance to uncover the timeless, natural laws governing human happiness, and thereby to restore peace and prosperity on earth. For Court de Gébelin insisted that this lost knowledge, both visual and aural, would provide the key to the construction of a superior, modern language, one which would aid in restoring the purity and perfection of an earlier golden age in which people communicated without impediment and easily realised their common bonds.” (Sophia Rosenfeld, A Revolution in Language: The Problem of Signs in Late Eighteenth-Century France, Stanford University Press, 2001, pp. 113-116)

Baltrušaitis’s concluding remarks are worth reproducing: Egypt, he states, “remains always a composite of singularities, of paradoxes, of rigid reasonings and of poetic falsifications… […] The legend of the Egyptian myth is not only the nostalgia of a Paradise Lost. It is also the implacable logic that rubs shoulders with unreason, and an erudition placed in the service of dreams. The whole belongs to a chapter of the history of human thought gone astray.” (op. cit., p. 321.)

These dreams, as Anne-Marie Mercier-Faivre has demonstrated in her article, ‘Le Langage d’Images de Court de Gébelin’ in Politica Hermetica vol. 11, are “a dream of return to a (mythical) past which would become a reality. For Court de Gébelin, it is not only a matter of giving a reading of the symbolism and language of the ancient world, but also of reforming the modern world. … It is not a matter of doing archaeological research by deciphering symbols, but of changing the relationship of modern man to his language, and thereby to the world and to time.” (p. 53)

First published Dies Natalis Solis Invicti 2020 e.v.

Revised Imbolc 2023 e.v.

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Thomas Ligotti: The Red Tower

The Red Tower

Thomas Ligotti

“The ruined factory stood three stories high in an otherwise featureless landscape. Although somewhat imposing on its own terms, it occupied only the most unobtrusive place within the gray emptiness of its surroundings, its presence serving as a mere accent upon a desolate horizon. No road led to the factory, nor were there any traces of one that might have led to it at some time in the distant past. If there had ever been such a road it would have been rendered useless as soon as it arrived at one of the four, red-bricked sides of the factory, even in the days when the facility was in full landscape. Although somewhat imposing on its own terms, it occupied only the most unobtrusive place within the gray emptiness of its surroundings, its presence serving as a mere accent upon a desolate horizon. No road led to the factory, nor were there any traces of one that might have led to it at some time in the distant past. If there had ever been such a road it would have been rendered useless as soon as it arrived at one of the four, red-bricked sides of the factory, even in the days when the facility was in full operation. The reason for this was simple: no doors had been built into the factory; no loading docks or entranceways allowed penetration of the outer walls of the structure, which was solid brick on all four sides without even a single window below the level of the second floor. 

The phenomenon of a large factory so closed off from the outside world was a point of extreme fascination to me. It was almost with regret that I ultimately learned about the factory’s subterranean access. But of course that revelation in its turn also became a source for my truly degenerate sense of amazement, my decayed fascination.

The factory had long been in ruins, its innumerable bricks worn and crumbling, its many windows shattered. Each of the three enormous stories that stood above the ground level was vacant of all but dust and silence.”

– Thomas Ligotti, Teatro Grottesco, 2007

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Jules Bois: An Unpublished Tarot Book and Deck

Translator’s Introduction

Aside from the previous excerpts and this poem, and some casual remarks on divination scattered throughout his works, Jules Bois had in fact intended to write an entire book on the Tarot, accompanied by a full set of illustrated cards drawn by Henry de Malvost, the artist who had illustrated his Le Satanisme et la Magie (1895). This work would never be published, no trace of it is to be found in the archives of Bois’ papers to the best of our knowledge, and the sole mention of it is in an article on the history of playing cards by Raoul Deberdt, published in La Revue Universelle in 1899, and from which the illustration below was taken.

Although the footnote on page 225 of La Reine Zinzarah by “P. Christian fils” (published previously) mentions the publication of such a work, this, no more than the book on Natural and Onomantic Astrology announced in the footnote on the first page of the same book, was not published under a pseudonym, nor in instalments either as far as we have able to ascertain.

With respect to Bois’ archives, divided into two sets and donated to two different educational establishments in the United States, only the collection now housed in Georgetown, the smaller of the two, has been catalogued. One will surmise that if this unpublished book is still extant, then it will be found – one hopes – in the more extensive archives kept by Columbia

Henry Colas de Malvost – the aristocratic surname perhaps being a pseudonym – was a friend and collaborator of Jules Bois, and who illustrated works by the latter, such as Le satanisme et la magie. Biographical details on this artist are lacking; no dates of birth or death are known. One reference in a work by Bois, dated 1903, provides a terminus ante quem for his death. Aside from his association with Bois, the few details and illustrations such as we have been able to glean are presented below. Says Bois: “Mr Henry de Malvost evokes the devil himself with his pencil.”

Effectively, de Malvost’s illustrations were singled out in practically every review of the book, and have exerted a certain influence on later depictions of so-called satanic rituals and witchcraft. Furthermore, illustrations taken from Bois’ book would be reused by the Surrealists, including one chosen to accompany a text by André Breton in the journal Minotaure (no. 3-4, 1933).

Illustrations from Jules Bois Le Satanisme et la Magie

Elsewhere, Bois would write:

“Painters, ordinarily so material, have applied themselves to reproducing miracles. … Mr. Henry de Malvost, who illustrated my Satanism and Magic (he is no longer with us, alas!), resurrected the Devil with his pencil.” (Le Monde invisible, p. 316, 1903.)

“The strangest of these innovators was Henry Colas de Malvost, who interpreted with a vigorous inspiration my “Noces de Sathan” and who illustrated my study on Satanism and Magic. His example serves as a link between the aesthetic of the Spirits and that of the Symbolists, for that complex artist, he too, was a medium, in his spare time. (Le Miracle Moderne, p. 163, 1907.)

In effect, de Malvost had provided the décor and costumes for Bois’ play, as well as the frontispiece to the published version.

Les Noces de Sathan, frontispiece by Henry de Malvost. (source)

In addition to book illustrations, de Malvost’s literary activities appear to have been primarily critiques of theatre and classical music, published in the same journals Bois contributed to, as well as a book of verse, Au gré du vent, Vanier, 1888. He also set poetry to music.

The Two Lovers, art by Henry Colas (source)

 

De Malvost’s illustration of Marlowe’s Faust for the Théâtre d’art, 1891-1892. (source)

Aside from the illustrations to Bois’ books, the only substantial mention of Colas de Malvost’s work is to be found in connection to his friendship with the artist Georges (i.e. Marie-Mathilde) de Peyrebrune. Indeed, some of his paintings depicting de Peyrebrune are preserved in the museum of art & archaeology of Périgueux.

The relevant passages from the article on the history of playing cards and the Tarot by Raoul Deberdt, published in La Revue Universelle in 1899, is translated and reproduced below, along with an image of the Tarot card drawn by Henry de Malvost, the sole traces of either this deck or Bois’ Tarot book we have been able to discover:

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“The old Tarot of the philosophers was crying out to be entirely renewed: in its deepest symbols, of an incomparable moral beauty, artist-thinkers will find the raw material upon which to exercise their genius. Already now, the warm feminist apostle and occultist, Mr Jules Bois, aided by the subtle artist H. De Malvost, will publish an excellent illustrated commentary on the Tarot, of which we have the good fortune to be able to reproduce an as-yet unpublished engraving. Mr Bois’ work will be a very reliable guide for those artists who would wish to penetrate the arcana of the antique mystery in order to find therein the fertile formulas of scientific mysticism. The austere Tarot may be gentrified and gallantified to infinity, and what more proof do we need than the charming Balsamo deck (pub. Wattillaux, publisher-cardmaker), whose plates date from the 18th century, and in which all the allegories of the ancient deck of the Persian or Chaldean mages will be found translated into delectable scenes of gallantry after the style of Lawrence, Baudouin, or Fragonard.”

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Six of Cups, from the Tarot deck drawn by Henry de Malvost

Note:

The so-called Balsamo deck, published by the cardmaker Wattillaux, refers to Giuseppe Balsamo, the Italian adventurer who styled himself Count Cagliostro and who developed the Egyptian Rite of Freemasonry. Presumably “Balsamo” (i.e. Cagliostro) is being used here as a general term for the various “Egyptian” Tarots, pointing to the heavily Egyptianized Jeu de la Princesse Tarot that first appeared in an 1843 work by Johannès Trismégiste (aka Lorambert). Wattillaux acquired the rights to this deck a few years later and continued printing it for the remainder of the 1800s. The mention of the plates dating to the 18th century also presumably refers back to Etteilla, given that, technically, the “Jeu de la Princesse” Tarot is a type of Grand Etteilla deck. (Thanks to J.C.)

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