About the Minchiate

The Minchiate deck is a variant on the widely recognized 78-card Tarot pattern. It is very similar
in many ways and originated from a common source, but has some distinct differences from the more
common deck pattern.
First, and most importantly, the Minchiate has 97 cards. There are the same number of small cards
(pips and courts), but a total of forty trumps plus the Fool. Of these trumps the ordering of the standard
Tarot trumps is rearranged in many cases, the Empress has been removed, the Papess or High Priestess,
Emperor and Pope or Hierophant have been replaced by a Grand Duke, Western Emperor and Eastern
Emperor, and an additional twenty trumps have been added in a block. Tarot historian Huck
summarized online:
If one wishes to interpret the general “different Minchiate in contrast to the usual Tarot”,
then it seems, that the Florentines have with their version “extended the heaven” with a
way, that leads to it, starting with Hope and some Prudentia and other virtues, exploring
the elements and the zodiac, finally reaching the Star (which in the Minchiate case is a male
king on horse - remember three holy magi in the Medici chapel) and the rest of the aries,
which all somehow manifest the state, that heaven was reached.
These added cards include twelve cards for the zodiac, four for the classical elements and four for
the missing classical and Christian virtues. All of these will be discussed as they arise. The last five of
the trumps, unnumbered, are called the Arie or Air cards and they plus the three preceding trumps have
red backgrounds in many renditions, or at least differently coloured.
Of the pips, unique aspects of the Minchiate include four Knights that are half-man half-beast
hybrids, Pages that are males in the masculine suits of Wands and Swords, and female Handmaids in
the feminine suits of Cups and Coins. Wands are ornamentally knobbed sceptres, as smooth and
uniform as lathe-turned and finial-capped curtain rods or table legs. Cups are goblets that are elaborate
and in most Minchiates vary from card to card. Swords are straight, not curved like those of the Tarot
de Marseille. And Coins bear heads on most of them, typically people. All pips are unillustrated in the
scenic Rider Waite sense, but many bear incidental images as embellishments; some depict images of
Italian history and mythology (the elephant of Hannibal crossing the Alps, the wolf suckling Remus
and Romulus), while others scenes from Aesop’s Fables (the fox and the stork, for example).
The Minchiate pattern appears to share common roots with a late fifteenth century Florentine
pattern of the 78-card Tarot that has survived as the Rosenwald Sheets. These consist of three uncut
sheets of Tarot cards that are housed in the National Art Gallery of Art, Washington D.C. These sheets
consist of mostly trumps, with some pips and court cards. The trumps (which include a Papesse and a
composite figure of the Fool and the Magician, neither of which figure in the Minchiate) do not include
the non-standard Minchiate trumps. However the order in which they are ranked, including Justice,
Fortitude, the Chariot and the Wheel, and the fact that the highest trumps are unnumbered as are the
Arie cards, are reminiscent of the Minchiate.
More, the four Knights are shown among the court cards; these are all the half-man, half-beast
hybrids common to the Minchiate but otherwise relatively unique. Italian scholar Franco Pratesi was of
the opinion that the Rosenwald Sheets were but three of a hypothetical four sheets that comprised a
complete Minchiate deck, that the extra trumps were included on the missing fourth sheet. But there is
no evidence found to date that supports this. Instead they both appear to have derived from a common
iconographic source.
The term minchiate derives from a southern Italian dialect word minchione, which has been read as
nonsense, a trifle, something laughable or an equivalent of bullshit. It comes from vulgar slang for the
phallus, and is supposed by Tarot historians to refer to the cards’ use in gaming, as having no real or
practical purpose. But it was also known as germini, deriving from Gemini, the highest-ranked of the
new trumps, as well as gemelli, ganellini or gallerini in different regions.
 However it was named, the earliest known reference to this deck, as germini, was recorded as early
as 1466. Some put that date later, to 1506. So it does not predate the Tarot, but appears to have
evolved from the same iconographic sources. It was popular, the most popular card game in Italy, so
much so that it supplanted the standard 78-card Tarot deck in production in the area in the 1700s, and
spread throughout Italy and into France. The game was published in a 1676 commentary by Paolo
Minucchi, and cards and game were described in greater detail in Paris in 1869 by Romain Merlin in
his Origine des cartes à jouer. It was not until the 1930s that the game’s popularity died out.
The rules of Minchiate as a game played with a 97-card deck appear to be very similar to that of
the 78-card Tarot game, as a trick-taking game along the same lines as modern bridge. Peculiarities of
the point structure and rules of play, written in Italian by Nazario Renzoni and Andrea Ricci and
translated online by conurelover, are paraphrased below:
Suits are as follows: Coins, Staves, Swords, and Cups. Cups and Coins are referred to
as Red. Swords and Staves are referred to as Black or Long. Red suits rank highest to
lowest thus: King, Queen, Knight, Page, 1 to 10. Black/Long rank highest to lowest thus:
King, Queen, Knight, Page, 10 to 1.
The exceptional card of the deck is the Fool. He is not a trump or suit! He can add
points as exceptions that will be explained below.
The nicknames of the series as trumps are as follows: trumps 1-5 (the Juggler, Grand
Duke, Western and Eastern Emperors, Love) are the Popes. Trumps 6-9 (Temperance,
Fortitude, Justice, Fortune) are the Tarocchini. Trumps 10-19 (the Chariot, Time, Hanged
Man, Death, Devil, Tower or Devil’s House, Hope, Prudence, Faith and Charity) are the
Beneath 20. Trumps 20-29 (Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Libra, Virgo, Scorpio, Aries, Capricorn,
Sagittarius) are the Super 20. Trumps 30-35 (Cancer, Pisces, Aquarius, Leo, Taurus,
Gemini) are the Super 30. Then without numbers the highest are the Arie (Star, Moon, Sun,
World and Fame). [Note the parallel of the five Popes at the start, and the five Arie at the
end of the trumps]
There are several ways to gain points in a game.
Popes 2-5 (all but the Juggler) are worth 3 points. The Juggler, Fool, Chariot, Death,
Fire, Capricorn, all Kings and the Super 30 cards are worth 5 points. Any card from the
Arie are worth 10 points. Any other cards are not worth any points on their own.
A combination of three or more cards is known as a versicola (plural, versicole) and
can add to the score. A versicola’s value is added to the final points. An example might be
of Popes 1-3, for instance, or three or more consecutive trumps in any order. Other
examples of irregular versicole might include the tens: the tenth, twentieth, thirtieth and
fortieth trumps, the Fool, Pope 1 and Fame, three or four of the kings, among others. A
versicola’s value is the total value of the cards involved.
Additional points may be allocated for taking the last trick, a versicola that includes the
Fool trump, and the sum total of any cards with point values that are over 14 at the end of
the game.
Introduction
The Minchiate pattern first attracted my attention early in my study of historical Tarot. The extra
trumps was the first attractor, particularly the (to me) natural inclusion of the fourth cardinal virtue
Prudence, and the twelve astrological cards. The Tower, its naked woman fleeing from the door of a
burning fortress, the Star with its sole Magi, the intriguing mystique of the missing Papesse and
Empress ... the deck just enthralled me and I wanted to learn more.
Over time at the height of my collecting mania, I had gathered copies of every known available
Minchiate, save for the Francesi, with which I nonetheless familiarized myself through the kindness of
a friend who scanned her copy of the modern reproduction. Otherwise I have owned at different points
copies of the following:
• Minchiate Tarot, a modern redrawing and pastel colouring by the late Brian Williams
• Minchiate Fiorentine, limited editions by Il Meneghello in both regular and miniature size
• Tarocco Fiorentino, a redrawing by Edizioni del Solleone that includes the Empress and
Papesse
• Minchiate Etruria, both limited edition by Il Meneghello and mass market by Lo Scarabeo
• Minchiate Al Leone, a rougher woodblock stencil printed in crude browns and greens
• Minchiate Solleone, a modern deck drawn in a cartoony style and housed in a wooden box
• A trumps-only handmade deck I purchased via eBay from a stationer in Italy with hand-
wrapped backs in the old style; a deck so rare that it had no name and appeared to be a one-off
But much as I sought out the decks, pored over them and pronounced myself a Minchiate
enthusiast, I never did learn to read with them. Even as I embraced the Visconti trumps, and became
comfortable and proficient in reading the Tarot de Marseille, the Minchiate continued to elude me in
terms of reading. So the purpose of this study is to learn more about those maddeningly enigmatic
cards, become more familiar with them and learn how to read using this pattern.
As I no longer own a Minchiate, I will be using scans from the Fiorentine woodcut and block-
coloured Minchiate deck housed in the Bibliotheque Nationale de France, scans of which were
downloaded (free of charge for personal use) from their website, with occasional reference to scans
from the same source of the Etruria, Al Leone and Francesi decks. For daily draws I have used online
readings on the website facade.com which uses the Il Meneghello version of the Fiorentine deck.
Finally, my research will examine historical and iconographic observations, and use various online
sources. I do not intend to use reversals; nor will I use astrology and elemental attributes for the pips.
Rather, I will use suit attributes and numerology, as well as visual cues from the added details in the
cards, much as I had done for my study of the Tarot de Marseille. Because as Robert M. Place, in his
2005 book The Tarot: History, Symbolism and Divination, observed:
This deck suggests that Renaissance artists, unlike later occultists, did not attribute the
trumps in what is now considered the standard deck to elements or astrological signs. If
these alchemical and celestial symbols were already there, they would not have added them.
By suit attributes, I will refer to a long-standing attribution of the four suits to the four classes of
medieval society: Staves to the energy and resourcefulness of the peasant class, Cups to the spiritual
and thoughtful clergy, Swords to the aggressive and warlike knights of the nobility, and Coins to the
prosaic merchant class with their creature comforts and exchange of goods for money.
The Fool
As in the early Tarot, the Fool of the Minchiate is unnumbered, outside the normal range of trumps
and a separate entity in its own right. Sometimes viewed at the start of the deck, sometimes at the end,
I have opted here to put it at the start, to begin this study before moving into the Popes.
Unlike the Fool of the Tarot, who is always alone save an animal companion (usually a dog), the
Fool here is accompanied by two children. Although “accompanied” might not be the best choice of
words, as he appears to both torment and be tormented by the two urchins in this version. The boy
behind him waves a tool or toy or noisemaker, brandishing it as if to strike the Fool with it. But the
Fool holds a clapper or noisemaker of his own, raised upright in one hand while with the other he holds
a naked child still before him, as if to beat him with the clapper. This boy, smaller than the first, is
crying and clings to the Fool’s leg; it appears that he would sag to the ground were it not for the Fool’s
restraining hand and his own grip on the leg of his captor.
(However, if we look at the cruder Bolognese Minchiate Al Leone, the Fool here appears much
closer to the carefree Tarot de Marseille Fool, dressed in jester’s motley and clearly playing merrily
with two smiling children. And the Momus of the more elaborate and less standard Minchiate Francesi
is a courtly Fool, standing alone in very fancy Fool’s garb. But I will consider the Fiorentine/Etruria
model instead.)
But the Fool of the Fiorentine pattern doesn’t appear to be malevolent at all. He’s smiling merrily,
either playacting his abuse of one child and being the target of the abuse of the other, or oblivious to the
feelings directed against him. This makes many view him as being the quintessential “village idiot”,
one who was on the same level as the village children, or possibly persecuted and mocked by them. He
wears bright colours, bare feet and legs, and a turban or headdress adorned with several feathers. All of
this points to his childlike state, or a sense of being an outsider, not beholden to the same customs and
conventions as most other adults.
When the Fool turns up in a reading, it can represent innocence and freedom from normal societal
conventions. A state of childlike innocence, a naïve unconcern or unawareness of that which is going
on about him. Such a figure would have the simple greed of a child, the desire for instant gratification
rather than taking the high road of virtue.

The Popes
In the Bolognese Tarocco pattern, the second to fifth of the trumps (Papess and Pope, Empress and
Emperor) were replaced by four identical or very similar trumps of robed and crowned figures that
became know as I Papi or the four Popes. Later these evolved to become four dark skinned, turbaned
Moors, but the concept remained the same: four figures each interchangeable and worth the same value
in points, but replacing the images of often-controversial temporal and spiritual rulers.
In the Minchiate, a similar concept was employed. Although as the rules indicate, there are five
Popes in the Minchiate pattern: the Juggler, Grand Duke, Western and Eastern Emperors, and Love. To
my way of thinking the last trump in the above list does not belong, but I can only base this on the
information available.

I The Juggler
The first trump, first of the Popes of the Minchiate, is the card that would be the Bateleur or
Magician in the standard Tarot pack, but here its name is translated in English to be the Juggler. To me
this better recalls his visible role of a performer. Because note here how he stands leaning over a cloth-
covered table toward two visitors or members of his audience. They appear enthralled and perhaps a
little frightened of him. There’s a cup and a flat box, like that used to hold a deck of cards, maybe, on
the table before him. From this we gather that like the Mountebank or Bateleur, the Juggler gets by on
his wits and his sleight of hand.
 The Juggler wears a tunic with elaborately slashed sleeves, and a feather-topped turban much like
that worn by the Fool before him. This leads many to conclude that he is no more than an evolved
Fool, one who has mastered his skills and himself and progressed to become the Juggler, a man who
harnesses his abilities to earn a living. He is clearly a manipulator, both of the cards and the games
with which he gulls coins from the unsuspecting, but also of his audience – note their unease as he
leans toward them.
When in a reading, I would view the Juggler as the end result when one turns their skills to more
practical purposes, ethical or no. Very like the Bateleur, the Juggler refers to manipulation, to turning
circumstances to one’s best advantage, to getting by one one’s wits. They will likely be persuasive,
glib and quick-thinking and quick-acting. Such an individual gets stuff done, but their words and
actions should be treated with caution, as they are not necessarily trustworthy.

II The Grand Duke

The Grand Duke is a card that replaces the Papess or High Priestess of the Tarot pattern. This
name was first attributed to the card in 1859 by Romain Merlin; historians suppose that this is a case of
reverse engineering, that this was not a name given to the card at the time of the deck’s creation. This
is because, as has been pointed out, at the time the pattern was introduced, there was no Grand Duchy
of Tuscany: this was not the case for approximately 25 years, until it was formed in 1569 with Florence
as its capital. A Grand Duke was the ruler or monarch of a grand duchy, a country or territory
somewhere between a sovereign nation and a duchy in size and importance.
The figure depicted in this card is an interesting study in contrasts. A Duke, he’s called, in a short
tunic and armoured breastplate, crown and long cape, short boots. But long wavy hair and the faintest
suggestion of breasts. As if the figure was a melding of the two: duke and priestess. He wears a crown
and holds a golden tulip-headed sceptre in one hand, both of which look like those borne by Cosimo I
de Medici, first Grand Duke of Tuscany, in official portraits. He also supports a large orb between the
other hand and his knee as he sits on a red-cushioned stool. He looks contemplatively to the side, over
the top of the orb of his office. In the Minchiate Etruria, his free hand rests on the head of a big cat,
shown more clearly in Brian Williams’ redrawing to be a lion. Why a lion? As a marzocco or heraldic
lion, the lion was a symbol of the Republic of Florence, so chosen as it was more powerful and thus
able to inflict damage on the imperial eagle. So this lion is another symbol of the Grand Duke’s status.
His hand resting on its head illustrates his mastery over the aggression of the beast, as well as over the
republic itself.
In a reading, the Grand Duke is not interchangeable with the Tarot’s Papess or High Priestess.
There is a suggestion of a slightly more feminine benevolence, of gracious rule and gentle authority.
However, I would take this card, if it appeared in a Minchiate reading, to indicate a need for such
support, genteel and behind the scenes perhaps, but support from those higher up.

The Two Emperors

The two Emperors – Western and Eastern – are separate entities, but it is difficult to discuss them
individually without some comparison and contrast. As such, to discuss them separately would result
in some degree of overlap; I have instead chosen to examine them jointly first and then separately.
By “Western” and “Eastern”, according to the schools of thought contemporary with the time of
the deck’s creation, would be the Roman (or later, Germanic) and the Byzantine Empires. The Holy
Roman versus the Orthodox Churches. West versus East, Occident versus Orient. According to a post
by Full Deck online, this hails back to the time of the Roman Emperor around AD 300, Gaius Aurelius
Valerius Diocletianus (often referred to as Diocletian). It is he who established the Tetrarchy, by which
the Roman empire was split into two halves, west and east, and from this into four districts ruled
individually. It was from this division that arose the ranks of Augustus (a sort of major Emperor; one
ruled the West and the other the East) and Caesar (a junior emperor, who ruled the smaller districts
within). The Western Empire was taken to cover Britain and the parts of Germany and France under
Roman rule, Spain, Italy and the western part of northern Africa under Roman rule bordering the
Mediterranean Sea. The Eastern Empire, in turn, governed Greece, the Balkans, Byzantium, Palestine,
Egypt, Arabia and similarly eastern regions under Roman rule.
With this in mind, it is evident that the Emperors of these respective regions would exhibit traits
and habits of their homelands. The Western Emperor would exhibit the martial Roman rule, while the
Eastern Emperor would be more beholden to the orthodox theocracy of the Byzantine Empire. This
will be described further in the discussions of individual Emperors that follows.
In the Minchiate, the Emperors are two of the four Popes in card play. For interpretation purposes
as a divinatory tool, however, the overall sequence of Popes and the roles of the two Emperors within it
was very well summarized by Tom Tadfor Little:
This is a key transition in the sequence of the major arcana of the Minchiate. As small
children, we gazed at the Fool with love and affection; as adolescents, it was the Magician
who captivated us with his cleverness and worldly charisma. As adults, we turned to the
Grand Duke for sponsorship and support. At last, we face the ultimate authority figure, the
Western Emperor, whose word is law. For all of them, it is their personal authority we
respond to and place ourselves in relationship with. But now, with the Eastern Emperor,
there is a hint of authority that runs deeper than personality. The Eastern Emperor
represents the culture itself, the enduring institutions and even the sacred rites of religion,
emerging from the ancient lands of his dominion in the shadowy past.

III The Western Emperor

The Western Emperor, the first of the two Emperors, seems to me to be the one to bear the greatest
resemblance to the single Emperor of the Tarot. He sits in profile on a gilt chair, wearing the armour of
a Roman centurion and a crown with a high dome. A blue cloak is draped voluminously about him. He
holds a golden sceptre very like that of the Grand Duke, and a massive golden orb ringed in red and
topped by a dark eagle. The Western Emperor and the eagle appear to be looking at one another. In the
Minchiate Etruria, he wears more earthly orange and green shades and a large griffin perches at his feet
like a faithful pet – half lion, half eagle. In heraldry the griffin denoted not only courage and boldness,
but strength and military leadership.
As suggested by the above discussion of the two Roman Empires, the Western Emperor ruled the
west: Italy, France, Spain, Germany and North Africa. Rulership was gained by might and military
conquest, and the imperial eagle atop the globe of Jupiter, of authority and dominion over the earth,
reinforces this.
In a reading the Western Emperor suggests mastery and worldly authority. He is closer, perhaps, to
the Tarot model of the Emperor as ruler and figure of authority. As such, he will likely represent rule
and order, figures or entities of authority whose will must be followed. Politics and societal norms,
strategic goals achieved, will be indicated as well by this card.

IIII The Eastern Emperor

The second Emperor, the Eastern Emperor, is a softer-appearing figure than his Western brother.
He looks more thoughtful, almost downcast, and wears softer colours in the Minchiate Fiorentine (in
the Etruria he wears red and purple, bolder hues, but has the hint of breasts). Rather than a fierce eagle
atop his orb, which is blue and banded in gold, there is a six pointed star, and he has no animal
companion of any kind. His sceptre is topped not with the tulip-style end of the Western Emperor’s,
which reminds me again of the portraits of the Medici rulers, but with a top more rounded like a fleur
de lis. He sits on a low stool without back or armrest, but a more comfortable cushion.
The Eastern Emperor represents the East – Greece and the Balkans, Egypt, Arabia and the Orient –
that which was the former Byzantine Empire. As a theocratic empire that survived the rise and fall of
the Roman Empire, Byzantium’s rulership was rooted in tradition and in divinity, as opposed to the
Roman pattern of rule by right of conquest. Home of Palestine and the birthplace of Christianity, as
well as the Orient (of “We three kings of Orient are” fame), a very iconographic and orthodox, even
mystical, Christian outlook dictates the actions and attributes of this Emperor.
In a reading, I would read the Eastern Emperor as one who rules via tradition. He holds significant
sway over his people through loyalty and love, as opposed to fear and might. In this way, despite my
best attempts not to graft traditional Tarot associations to non-Tarot cards, I am still inclined to view the
Eastern Emperor as a substitute Pope of the Tarot. With association with old-world thought of mystical
and orthodox tradition, he may suggest spiritual messages or missions, mystical or ritualistic inspiration
and learning in such matters. As people and organizations, he may manifest as religious rulers or those
who lead by example in this way, and to churches, schools and charities.

V Love
Unlike the four Popes or Moors in the Tarocchino patterns of southern Italy, the Minchiate has five
Popes. The fifth is this card, Love. Why is uncertain, it doesn’t seem to fit; it appears that there are
five Popes just to be a parallel to the five Arie at the end of the trump sequence, and it just happened
that Love was the next trump in sequence to fill in the gap.
The scene in Love (Amor, the Lovers) is unique. Different than the lone blindfolded Cupid that
stands firmly on the ground in the Tarocchino or flutters just above it in the unconventional Minchiate
Francesi, different than the couple joined by the older woman under Cupid’s watchful eye in the
traditional Tarot pattern. In the Fiorentine or Etruria pattern, Cupid flies above as he does in the
Marseille or Visconti Tarot style, his arrow directed down as if the bull’s-eye is through the crown held
by the standing maiden and into the top of her swain’s bowed head.
The maiden is simply but classically dressed in a loose but modest gown barely covered by a shawl
or cloak. One hand is at her side, the other is extended to hold a golden crown as if about to crown the
man at her feet. He is slightly more richly dressed, but also barefoot, and has dropped to one knee in
the dust of the roadside, head bowed. It appears that he is to be crowned by the maiden, possibly a
metaphor for her bestowing her favours on her suitor. Cupid’s arrow, aimed to go through the crown to
hit his head. I’m reminded of the classical scenes of I Trionfi, for the Triumph of Love. The Roman
dress certainly helps.
Love in the Minchiate means very much the same thing it does in the Tarot. It would mean, if it
were drawn in a reading, a lasting and satisfying relationship, harmonious and faithful. Typically this is
meant to refer to romantic relationships, but can also refer to friendships, family relationships and even
work partnerships. Such issues that are in question when this card is read will receive positive
outcomes.

The Cardinal Virtues

Classical schools of thought had four cardinal or classical virtues, which existed long before the
introduction of the three Christian or theological virtues of Faith, Hope and Charity. The cardinal
virtues are Temperance, Fortitude, Justice and Prudence. They were originally derived from Plato’s
Republic, and were expanded upon by Cicero and Ambrose, and later by Augustine of Hippo and
Thomas Aquinas (who adapted them as he introduced the three theological virtues).
Augustine of Hippo described the virtues as follows:
For these four virtues (would that all felt their influence in their minds as they have their
names in their mouths!), I should have no hesitation in defining them: that temperance is
love giving itself entirely to that which is loved; fortitude is love readily bearing all things
for the sake of the loved object; justice is love serving only the loved object, and therefore
ruling rightly; prudence is love distinguishing with sagacity between what hinders it and
what helps it.
 In the Tarot, typically only the first three of the cardinal virtues – Justice, Fortitude or Strength, and
Temperance – are included in a deck. Why the fourth cardinal virtue of Prudence was excluded is
unsure, but it has been integrated into various other cards. This is discussed further when the meaning
of Prudence in the Minchiate is examined. However, as it and the three Christian virtues were added to
the Minchiate, they are a part of the block of inserted cards that appear later in the trup sequence.

VI Temperance
Temperance in the Minchiate is fairly similar to that as rendered in the traditional Tarot. The
woman sits, lacks the wings of the Marseille variant, and her draped Roman attire leaves one breast
bared, but the main point, that of carefully pouring liquid from one vessel to another, is unchanged.
She is temperate in the ancient sense, mixing water and wine, not wasting a drop.
Why bare breasted, though? At various times in history it was a sign of submissiveness, a plea for
compassion, a sign of female empowerment as per Boudicca or the Amazons, and a symbol of truth (as
in making a clean breast of it). In the context of Temperance, the virtue of restraint, self-control and
moderation, I see the last of the symbolisms as being the most likely meaning.
In the Minchiate, I would take Temperance at face value in a reading. It calls for restraint, tact, a
balanced approach. Moderation is the key when this card appears.

VII Fortitude
As the Minchiate had never really been given titles prior to Romain Merlin’s work, I am unsure
whether this card is to be called Strength, Fortitude, Courage, or something else. However, I am a big
fan of the title Fortitude as a virtue, so that is what I will go with here.
The virtue of Fortitude typically refers to inner strength, the courage and strength to endure rather
than to attack as on the battlefield. However, this is typically depicted with a certain measure of
physical bravery: the lion in the Tarot and in the Mantegna cards (as well as described by Cesare Ripa
in his Iconologica) is the most common symbol. However, that is absent in the Minchiate. Rather the
maiden depicted here grasps a marble pillar as if to promote herself as a pillar of strength.
In the Fiorentine the pillar stands beside her seat as if it is to support a vase or statuette in a
decorative niche; in other patterns such as the Etruria or Francesi she holds it as though it is a portable
item like a log. In either case, though, it represents much the same as it does in the Tarot: courage,
rising above fear, mental and physical strength, the ability to forbear and to triumph over opposition or
setbacks.

VIII Justice
Justice as a cardinal or classical virtue, differs in appearance very little from that of the same card
in the Tarot. It is even numbered the same, which is relatively unique in the Minchiate’s trump
structure. Here she is a woman draped in ancient Roman attire, sitting on a bench or low stone plinth
with her feet bare. She holds a sword upright in one hand and a set of brass or gold scales in the other.
Unlike the classical Tarot depiction, she is not winged, nor does she stare straight ahead. This is a
mortal woman who is aware of her role and the tools of her trade. Rather than the seriousness of the
Tarot version, here she enjoys her role.
The virtue of Justice is defined in a nutshell as fairness. In the Minchiate this card would be read
as impartiality, balance and fairness. It might manifest as legal matters or decisions, particularly ones
that are resolved to one’s favour. It calls for clear insight into the issues at hand, and for the restoration
of harmony.

Trumps Shared with the Tarot Pack

While it’s true that the Virtues, Love, the Fool and the Juggler are common to both the Tarot and
the Minchiate, these fall under more readily defined categories in the Minchiate – the Virtues, the
Popes. But as outlined in the translated rules for play, the trumps that follow – from Fortune to the
Tower in the Minchiate ordering – fall into more than one category. So they are grouped here. There
are many similarities between the cards in the two patterns, but differences as well in how they are
depicted, which sometimes impacts how they might be read.

IX Fortune
The Wheel of Fortune, or Fortune, is depicted in the Minchiate as though the wheel itself is of
secondary importance, eclipsed by the people or creatures around it.
A man lies on the ground, head propped up on one hand, book cupped by the other arm curled
around it, as though he was reading in bed. His face is resigned, perhaps because of the great wheel
that is parked on his hip. Or perhaps because of the woman holding the side of the wheel, as though
preparing to give it a good push to get it rolling: she is nude but for a cloak or cape draped about her
waist, and appears to stand on the reclining man’s calf. But she seems unconcerned of this, her face
serene and looking outward.
At the highest point of the wheel sits a man in robes trimmed in ermine and holding a sceptre in
one hand and an orb in the other. A king, you’d say. But his head is that of an ass, ears flattened, as if
to make a mockery of those who rule. And on the other side, head down and turned away as if falling
off, is a man about whom nothing other than his head-down descent can be determined.
As for the wheel itself, it is a golden carriage wheel with a golden sun at its centre, as if to show
how the alignment of the planets can dictate the often arbitrary mechanisms, the workings of fate and
fortune.
The wheel of fortune was a medieval symbol of the workings of fate or fortune, illustrating how
one could be brought high or thrown down by the simple turn of a wheel; how one’s fortunes could
change so suddenly, so abruptly, and then change again. As Cesare Ripa noted in his Iconologica di
Cesare Ripa Perugino, first published in 1593:
As the Wheel is sometimes up, and sometimes down, so Fortune changes. The Cornucopia
denotes her being Disposer of Riches, and the Good Things of this World; and the Wheel
being continually in Motion, so Fortune is fickle, and ever and anon changes, sometimes
abasing one, and exalting another.
So the king on top shows how high even a foolish man (or an ass) can rise. The figures on the
sides are those whose fortunes are rising (the woman on the left) and falling (the man on the right).
The figure on the bottom would represent one at the lowest point of his fortunes; he has fallen off, so is
unlikely with further action on his part to ascend again, and is at risk of being crushed by the weight of
others’ fortunes. As spelled out in the earliest Milanese noble tarocchi decks, the figures reined, will
rein, did rein and are without rein.
In a reading, Fortune in the Minchiate deck represents much the same as it had done in the Tarot
before and since. It is the workings of fate at play, luck both good and bad. You may be on top now, or
you may be at the bottom. But such states are bound to be temporary, through no fault of your own.
Sometimes, when you’ve fallen off, it takes effort to gain a spot on the wheel again, but with that work
you can find yourself on top. All that this card can counsel is to bear with it all, be accepting of the
changes as they occur.

X The Chariot
The Chariot in the Minchiate is not after the pattern of woodcut decks, but follows more the lines
of the earlier Milanese and Ferrarese luxury decks. Rather than the armoured warrior youth that steers
the chariot, we have a nude maiden who rides standing atop a horse-drawn conveyance like a parade
float. Because that is what at least one theory has put it forth as representing. Robert M. Place, in his
book The Tarot: History, Symbolism, and Divination, suggested that she was intended in this form to be
a representation of Petrarch’s I Trionfi, with the nude maiden as Venus, a picture of the triumph of
Love. In I Trionfi, the triumph of love is actually represented by Cupid, a winged and nude male;
however, the concept may still apply. But as the Minchiate also has a trump called Love, which would
take this place, the woman on the Chariot here may alternately represent the triumph of Chastity, which
trumps Love.
Whatever triumph she is to represent, she holds the reins of the two horses casually in one hand, as
well as one end of the banner she extends between outstretched arms. In the Etruria pattern this banner
bears the card’s Roman numeral, although it is blank in the Fiorentine. She smiles calmly, standing on
a cushion that takes up most of the floor space of her chariot, which has a high back ornamented with
gilt feather accents.
To my way of thinking, the exact triumph is unimportant. What is important is that she represents
triumph. In a reading, I view this card as victory, advancement, celebration or being celebrated. The
victory may be through no virtue of your own, but through pure luck or a turn of Fortune’s wheel. But
you find yourself still as the centre of attention. Now is not the time to demur, but accept it in the spirit
in which it was intended.

XI Time
The Minchiate trump of Time takes the place of the Tarot trump the Hermit. The Hermit was in
fact a late corruption of the figure of Time as an old man, Father Time, Saturn or Chronos. Here he is
shown as not only old but feeble, lame, walking with the aid of crutches. He is bent and bearded,
poorly dressed like a poor hermit of the early days of the Church, or a holy fool. He limps passed a
raised marble dais upon rests an hourglass that is apparently pierced by an arrow. A stag lies at the old
man’s feet.
Chronos in Greek myth was the father of the Titans, who received his trademark sickle (as he is so
depicted in his role as Father Time every New Year’s Eve) from his mother Gaia to castrate his father
Uranus. He later in turn attempted to devour his own children – an allegory of the destructive ravages
of time – only to be thwarted by his wife Rhea and later his son Zeus whom his mother hid from his
father’s attentions.
The hourglass, which later evolved to a lantern in the Hermit of the Tarot, further represents this
concept of time. The stag at his feet was a symbol of Prudence during the Renaissance due to a myth
of a stag that devoured a serpent and thus imbibed its wisdom; in the Tarot, in which Prudence is the
only one of the cardinal virtues missing, various trumps were assumed to take its place. The Hermit
was one of the likeliest candidates. More, as the stag sheds its antlers and regrows them every year, it
is a good representation of the passage of time and cyclicity of the seasons. It may also be a reference
to I Trionfi, and the Triumph of Time, in which a lame old man stands atop a chariot pulled by two
stags in most renditions. Some have suggested this means that time is as fleet of foot as the deer.
In a reading, Time would represent the passage of time and the changing of the seasons; it also
suggests the wisdom that arises from this, from age and experience. As in the Hermit, it may also
symbolize introspection and the need for guidance or advice from wiser heads.

XII The Hanged Man

The Hanged Man, sometimes called the Traitor, although I prefer the Tarot de Marseille’s French
title Le Pendu, is an often-misunderstood card. Suspended by one foot from a sort of gallows that
appears to be a crossbeam between two still-living trees, a rope around one bare ankle (the same sort of
rope also suspends a rectangular sign bearing the card’s Roman numeral XII). But in some Tarot decks
he is erroneously depicted right-side up, standing on one foot as if playing hopscotch.
The Hanged Man in the Minchiate is suspended upside-down by one foot, the other is free but bent
at the knee to hook behind the other knee. He wears a sort of fancy knickerbockers like those a child or
maybe a footman might wear, but without hose or shoes underneath, so he does look like a child. His
cloak is bunched about his waist, and his hands are free. He holds a round bag, presumably full of
coins, in each hand, and his expression is worried rather than beatific, as though he cannot hold on to
them. This is shown in some early Tarot decks as well, back as far as the costly deck from Ferrara now
referred to as the Gringonneur or Charles V deck: it is generally assumed to refer to Judas Iscariot,
clutching bags that hold his thirty pieces of silver, and who subsequently hanged himself in shame at
his betrayal.
So is the Hanged Man a traitor, a penitent, a martyr, a sacrificial lamb? It depends on the deck in
question, and how it’s examined. Typically it represents a different perspective, letting go of outmoded
ways of thinking and embracing the current situation. Surrender and introspection. The association
with Judas Iscariot lends a different perspective in itself, though. I prefer not to think of it as betrayal,
but following a popular alternative and Gnostic school of thought (which would have been known by
scholars in the Renaissance), Judas was Christ’s “truest disciple”, who betrayed Him to the Romans as
part of their prearranged plan, as part of a bigger picture to which the other disciples were not privy: to
fulfill the prophecies of the Messiah’s sacrifice, death and resurrection to save mankind. So in this way
it might be a nod to this Gnostic theory, which was known in various apocryphal gospels that had come
to light by this time.
In a reading I would thus view the Hanged Man as a different perspective, as sacrificing something
or a part of oneself for the experience it gains or for the greater good.

XIII Death
Death in the Minchiate is along the same lines as those depicted in many of the early Tarot decks.
Not identical to any of them, but utilizing many of the design aspects. The skeletal figure, not a full-
blown skeleton but thin skin stretched over bone, thin hair. The gaunt horse, hide over ribs like a
xylophone. It is dark brown, rather than the pale horse of Revelation, but the concept is still there.
The figure of Death rides the starving horse bareback, a brown monk’s robe falling around his
bony hips to leave his arms and chest naked. He brandishes a sickle like a weapon as he rides into
battle, death’s head in a rictus of aggression, as if uttering a battle cry to terrify an adversary. His horse
rears up as if nervous, feeding off the warlike energies. Together they give the concept of battle, of
martial energy and galloping to meet an enemy over the uneven terrain.
The concept of Death in cardplay and cartomancy was a contentious issue – such a subject of fear
and superstition that even when titles were introduced into decks, Death remained stubbornly untitled
and in French decks were referred to simply as L’Arcane sans Nom (the Nameless Arcanum). Despite
this, Death is almost never associated with actual physical death; in a reading, it might refer to an end
of something, often shocking and significant, or a traumatic change or transformation. It might refer to
loss of a job or a relationship, an ideal or a way of life, depending on the nature of the reading. Be that
as it may, it is a card that could very well signal a new beginning, something that might arise from the
ending that is suggested by this trump.

XIV The Devil

The Minchiate Devil strikes me as more a puckish figure, more an untamed savage, than the malice
of the Tarot de Marseille variation, or later Baphomet types.
He has the face of a grumpy old man, with horns and pointy ears, and his sour face is as
downturned as the corners of his mouth. He has small wings that sprout up from the area of his
shoulder blades, and sagging breasts as though the artist was undecided whether this creature was to be
a man or a very old woman.
The Devil is clothed in brown fur that is gathered about his waist like a furry sauna wrap. A tail of
the same type of fur extends behind, making me wonder if the fur is meant as clothing or as a shaggy
growth of his own fur. His legs end is hooves or talons (this is unclear in the various versions I can
find), three green serpents are wrapped around his waist, and he holds a three-pronged pitchfork in both
hands.
 Before the esoteric view of the Devil, that of Baphomet and Satan, the Devil was more beast than
man, more mischievous than malevolent. This version belongs in the former category. Uncivilized and
primitive, he is innocent of human convention, subject only to personal physical gratification. Like a
goat or other beast that only wants food, sex, sleep, and the niceties of where it comes from are not his
concern. In its place beyond social norms, it is feared as malicious, unpredictable, dangerous.
In a Minchiate reading, the Devil would thus be a card of pleasure, of the hedonistic and single-
minded pursuit of physical pleasure to the exclusion of all else. It would suggest lack of impulse
control, gluttony and greed, overindulgence. The appearance of this card would likely warn against
such behaviour.

XV The Tower
The Tower is the title I’ll give the card here; it has of course been called “La Maison Dieu” (The
House of God) in French traditional Tarot decks, the Hell-Mouth, the Lightning-Struck Tower ... but
here I will stick with the Tower for simplicity, because the untitled early Minchiate decks did not
commit themselves to a specific title.
Whatever it’s called, the Tower was my favourite of the Minchiate variant cards. We don’t see the
full tower, lightning and all, in this card. Rather, the action is focused on the aftermath, and right at the
base of the tower. We see the hint of flames from above and, in some such as the Fiorentine and Brian
Williams’ modern redrawing, also from within. At the base of the implied tower, a fire-filled doorway
admits two figures. A naked woman flees first, is fully outside the tower; a shadowy male figure is
beind her and still within.
Depending on the way you see the figures, and the version you view, can make a big difference in
how the card is viewed. For example in the Minchiate Etruria, she flees while looking over her
shoulder, fear evident in her face, as a shadowy figure looks like he’s also running to escape the horrors
unseen within. The Minchiate Al Leone’s maiden is smiling as though this is a fire drill, the figure just
behind her as though next in the queue. The Brian Williams recreation shows the scene from a more
frontal scene, so that we see the full doorway; the figure that seizes the maiden’s shoulder as if to catch
her is made of flames. And the Minchiate Fiorentine is a picture of hopelessness, resignation and utter
despair as the bearded and naked wild man emerges to seize her by the hair on top of her head.
Disregarding the happy schoolyard scene of the Al Leone, all of these represent different nuances
of how the Tower may be read. It is something that waylays you, ambushes you or holds you back. It
may be a known situation catching up to you, or something completely shocking and unexpected. This
is the meaning of the Tower card when it comes up in a reading. It’s very similar to the same trump in
the Tarot; the only difference I see is that it is much more up close, more personal, hitting closer to
home. Rather than more generalized setbacks or disasters, they now appear to hit you personally.

The Christian Virtues

The traditional 78-card Tarot pattern includes three of the four classical or cardinal virtues as
shown previously – those being Temperance, Strength or Fortitude and Justice. But the fourth classical
virtue of Prudence, and the three Christian or theological virtues of Faith, Hope and Charity, were
missing.
Some Tarot decks, such as the early luxury deck the Cary-Yale Visconti, included cards that appear
to be representative of the latter three. But as the deck did not survive with all trumps intact it could
not be absolutely certain that these did not replace other pre-existing trumps. For example in the
modern reproduction/recreation of this deck, the figure identified as Hope is in place of the Star. And
some of the later esoteric Tarotists substituted Prudence for other cards, most notably the Hermit and
the Hanged Man. But for the most part the Minchiate is the only pattern in which these virtues are not
merged into other cards, but separate cards and archetypes in their own rights.
XVI Hope
The first of the virtues shown herein is Hope, one of the three theological virtues embraced by the
Catholic Church and grafted onto the original four cardinal ones. In the Minchiate Fiorentine version a
gowned and elegantly draped woman, wearing a halo like rays of the sun, appears to sink from her
bench to kneel or genuflect on the floor (bench and floor are missing in the Etruria version; rather she
kneels at the roadside), hands clasped in prayer as she gazes raptly upward at a golden crown that
hovers in the air just above her.
The typical representation of Hope as a Christian virtue is an anchor, as is visible in the Cary-Yale
Visconti’s Hope card, as well as the praying maiden in the Minchiate Francesi. But here we have the
woman adoring the crown in the air. This can represent the Holy Spirit, the essence of the Kingdom of
Heaven (curious, as the halo I’d have expected is one the woman’s head instead).
Hope as a theological virtue is not something that can be learned. It is bestowed by God and is
considered in terms of courage in the face of negative or overwhelming odds, referred to by Wikipedia
as “a combination of the desire for something and expectation of receiving it”. And in a reading this is
how the card may be read. It is a referral to the expectation that things will turn out for the better, to
optimism and a positive outlook.

XVII Prudence
Prudence is a more commonly known virtue in the cards, having been adopted in some form or
another in Tarot decks as well since the Minchiate’s time (as the Hermit or Hanged Man, most
commonly). It is the fourth of the cardinal or classical virtues, the other three of which (Temperance,
Fortitude, Justice) have long been included.
As depicted here, Prudence is traditionally depicted as a maiden holding a mirror in one hand and a
serpent (Cesare Ripa called it a remora fish in his Iconologica). Often there was a stag, which we did
see back in the trump Time, and a head with two faces, as seen in the Mantegna cards. Richly gowned
and haloed as the surrounding virtues, she sits on a bench and holds the mirror and serpent. The mirror
is a symbol of self-awareness, seeing oneself truly, warts and all. Know thyself, as they say. And the
serpent is a symbol of wisdom and cunning.
Both of these tie back to the traditional interpretation of Prudence as Wisdom, which is to see
ahead, to be sagacious and self-governing, reasoned and disciplined. It suggests the ability to
determine the best course of action for a given situation, time and place. In a reading then, Prudence
would suggest a need to exercise these qualities: to employ wisdom and careful consideration of all
factors in making a decision.

XVIII Faith
The virtue of Faith, the second of the three theological virtues in the Minchiate, refers to the belief
in divine assurance, to believing even without proof. Wikipedia refers to it as follows:
Faith is the infused virtue, by which the intellect, by a movement of the will, assents to the
supernatural truths of Revelation, not on the motive of intrinsic evidence, but on the sole
ground of the infallible authority of God revealing.
Faith is called an infused virtue because it is not an attribute of any kind that can be learned or
acquired; rather, Church tradition asserts that it is bestowed by God. Traditionally, Faith is depicted by
a cross, as it is in the Cary-Yale Visconti Tarot and the Minchiate Francesi. Medieval or Renaissance
frescoes have depicted it as a maiden holding a chalice to which the dove of the Holy Spirit descends,
with or without a communion wafer in its beak. In the Fiorentine and Etruria, though, the symbol is
more uncertain. In his Iconologica, Cesare Ripa described this figure as holding the tables of the law
and a book (the Ten Commandments of the Old Testament and the Bible of the New Testament) in one
hand, and a heart with a candle on it in the other, representing illumination.
 And the haloed, gowned figure shown here has the former: she appears to hold up or consult a
tablet that she glances down at, as though a list on a clipboard; clearly the tables of the law as noted
above. But she holds a golden spear or sceptre in the other hand, as though she is meant to be a soldier
of the Faith she represents.
In a Minchiate reading, Faith would suggest certainty and confidence, belief in something without
firm or concrete reason to do so. This suggests focus and loyalty, even in the face of opposition and
setbacks. This card might advocate such action, or suggest that someone has this firm belief in you.

XVIIII Charity
The theological or Christian virtue of Charity is illustrated here in the typical Renaissance way as a
richly-dressed and beautiful woman. But while most allegories depict her caring for and even
breastfeeding one or more – often three – infants (as seen in the Minchiate Francesi), that is not what
we see in most versions of the Minchiate.
Rather the woman here in the Etruria or Fiorentine sits alone, although still draped in sumptuous a
blue gown and red cloak or cape. She is crowned with what appears to be a golden halo that emanates
out like rays of the sun and sits calm and smiling on a bench and gazes outward. One hand rests near
her lap. The other, curiously, is raised to about breast height at her side, and seems to hold a fistful of
red flames. And this is the oddest thing about the scene.
I was able to find some allegorical paintings of Charity that showed a similar scene; in these I
noted the greater detail that the flame in her hand was actually a flaming heart. According to various
biblical sources, the tongue of flame represents the Holy Spirit, and the flame above the heart symbolic
of charity or the love of God specifically, the burning of the Holy Spirit within the heart, the love of
God that burns within. So this is much more theological a representation of Charity than the more
pragmatic depiction of caring for the helpless and the hungry in the form of small children.
Charity the virtue is held to have two aspects, the love of God (as noted above) and the love of
man. It manifests as kindness and generosity, as offering aid and comfort to the downtrodden. And it
is this last sentence that I consider as the key interpretation of the Charity card in the Minchiate. It may
suggest that the offer of charity is needed, or that it is necessary to accept it in turn. Aid and love that is
offered willingly and accepted gratefully with an open heart.

The Elements
The next batch of cards unique to the Minchiate is that of the four classical elements: Fire, Water,
Earth and Air. It is the addition of this subset, along with that which follows, the zodiac cards, that led
Robert M. Place to conclusively assert that these attributes were grafted onto the Tarot long after their
inception. For if they had been existing associations, there would have been no need for them as free-
standing cards in their own right.
The concept of elements in this way, as opposed to chemistry and even alchemy, is an ancient one
found in various combinations in many cultures. The ones shown here in the Minchiate are influenced
by Greek culture, which enjoyed popularity into the Renaissance. The term “element” was apparently
introduced by Plato and elaborated upon by Aristotle and many since. Each of these four elements has
its own set of attributes and humours, which were used by physicians in the Middle Ages: hot (Fire and
Air) versus cold (Water and Earth), and wet (Water and Air) versus dry (Fire and Earth). These
attributes are used to inform the interpretations of these elements as cards in a Minchiate reading.

XX Fire
Fire is, unsurprisingly, depicted in the Minchiate as a blazing bonfire, red flames dancing above a
nest of brown sticks of firewood. What is surprising on first glance, however, is a beast in the middle
of the fire. It’s hard to make out in the Etruria or Fiorentine decks, some sort of offering, it seems,
although the Al Leone looks like a terrier and Brian Williams redrew it as a lamb, a sacrificial lamb.
The Francesi depicted it as Vulcan or Hephaestus, blacksmith and god of fire, at his anvil. But this is a
fairly atypical rendition of many of the themes of the more recognizable Minchiate pattern.
Fire is considered to be the primary element of the classical world; it is the combination of hot and
dry Fire with cold and wet Water that produce Air and Earth. Fire is pure creative energy that is the
strongest, most powerful of the four, among the swiftest, but also the one with the least staying power,
burning itself out. It is a study in contrasts in nature: Fire gives light and warmth, heats water, cooks
food. But it also burns, causing pain and untold destruction. It is an element of energy, of swift and
decisive absolute action, and movement, creative and illuminating.
In the classical world, Fire was an element of creative potential, energy, leadership, action and
decision. It is a masculine element, vital and sexy. But as depicted here, the sacrificial element must
also be taken into consideration. For here we have the idea of achieving goals through surrendering or
sacrificing part of oneself. And all of this figures into the Minchiate interpretation.

XXI Water
Water in the Minchiate is one of my favourite cards, particularly in the Etruria. It depicts a ship in
full sail (heeling slightly with the wind that bellies them out in the Etruria, becalmed in the Fiorentine)
on the surface of the water for which the card is named. The Etruria version is a ship such as might be
expected for long voyages, or for the nobility. The Fiorentine appears to be smaller, humbler; when
seen in the context of the two sailors on deck, it might be a fishing boat for short journeys. But in
either case the message is clearly one of a conveyance across water. A water nymph is depicted instead
in the Minchiate Francesi, or maybe Venus on her scallop shell.
In nature, Water is considered a life-giving element, one without which we cannot survive for very
long. It keeps the body alive and nourishes the land. It is fluid, changeable and adaptable, always
seeking the lowest level and able to take the form of that which contains it and flow around obstacles.
But despite this flexibility it is a force to be reckoned with, as storms at sea, floods and landslides
can attest. At rest, though, it is tranquil and calming, reflective and passive. It is receptive, diluting or
dissolving and combining anything to which it is added.
In the context of the classical elements, Water (whose humours are wet and cold) is considered to
be passive, receptive, adaptive and indolent, disinclined to change without external influence, such as
the currents of the moon, waves of wind, movement of gravity or force or immovable obstacles. But
left to its own devices Water is passive and unlikely to move. Due to its depths, which are unseen and
largely unknown, subject to undetectable currents and creatures beneath the surface, Water is viewed as
intuition, emotion and the human unconscious; the vast ocean that connects countries and peoples
represents the collective unconscious of mankind.
In a reading this card can be read to represent matters of emotion, intuition and the unconscious. It
may suggest a situation in which emotion is clouding the true issue, or alternately a situation in which
intuition and understanding are more important than the intellect – heart, not head. It may refer to a
time in which it is more prudent to wait and see, to be passive and react rather than to be proactive. Or,
based on the illustration, it may suggest travel, particularly by sea.

XXII Earth
The Earth card is a pastoral scene of animals, land, trees and water. The combinations of these
elements vary: the Fiorentine and Al Leone show a dam or reservoir, while the Etruria shows a lake. In
all there are trees, and animals drinking at the water – deer, or sheep and dog, I think – and villages or
manor houses in the background. The Francesi is, of course, the exception, with a lush queen of a
goddess lounging before piled fruit like offerings and leaning against a passive lion; I think she’s meant
to be Cyrene, mate of Apollo, who first noticed her when she wrestled a lion who threatened her
father’s sheep. In any of these incarnations, the image is passive and soothing, nurturing, lush and
fertile, providing for all.
 The classical element of Earth is the only one of the four that was not specifically associated with
one of the Tarot trumps. It is dry and cold, offspring with Air of the two main elements of Fire and
Water.
Earth is fixed, unmoving, the epitome of solid. Unlike amorphous Air, changeable Fire or fluid
Water, Earth’s state is unchanging and stable; as such it is considered to be conservative and entirely
unexciting. But this is an unfair assumption; it is Earth that gives form to all experience, that provides
the basis for life, for sustenance, nourishment, shelter, tactile experience in general as encountered by
all five senses. But it doesn’t do this alone: Earth alone is essentially inert and entirely passive; it only
reacts to the stimuli of the other elements, to be nourished by Water, warmed by Fire and given
movement by Air.
In a reading, the Earth trump would represent all that the element represents: stability, fixedness
and unchanging nature. It may represent material matters of home and hearth, of physical security. In
questions of timing, it is exceedingly slow. But it will come, and it will be a secure, comfortable and
quite likely fertile time.

XXIII Air
Air is the last of the four classical elements, as ordered in the Minchiate. It is depicted in the
Minchiate most commonly as an expanse of sky delineated by the merest slip of land at the bottom of
the image. Neat, thin layers of clouds, interspersed with stars and birds, fill the sky. On the ground is
an indistinct creature looking up as if following the birds or sniffing the air; it looks vaguely reptilian or
vaguely mammalian; in his modern recreation Brian Williams shows it to be a dog. Keeping with the
gods and goddess theme for the elements, the Minchiate Francesi depicts Juno (Roman name for Hera),
mate of Zeus, lounging on a cloud with her peacock familiar. I always thought of Hera as an earthly
goddess, but the possible origin of this image, perched on the clouds, is from an honorific in Greek,
Akraia, meaning “She of the Heights.”
The humours of Air are hot and wet, making me think more of steam. Air is the swiftest and most
intangible of the four elements. Air can’t be seen, captured or held, but it is a carrier of scent, sound,
light, water, fire, pollen and so many other things. It is amorphous and flexible, but changeable and has
great potential for power and destruction in spite of it all.
Because of its intangibility, Air is associated with the mental process, with the clarity of thought,
with swiftness, sharpness, speech and instinct. It represents pure thought and pure intellect, abstraction
and sharpness both.
In a reading, this card represents clarity of thought and speech – the breath of life. It is sharp and
incisive, swift and unstoppable. It suggests emotionless intellect and the great potential for power. If
drawn in a reading, Air could call for this in a situation, or suggest it to a factor already in play.

The Zodiac Cards

The twelve cards of the zodiac are inserted a a block between the elements and the Arie cards.
They are an addition to the existing Tarot pattern, supplanting the later astrological associations that
were grafted onto trumps and small cards by the esotericists. At the time of the game’s devising they
would have simply been symbols that were recognizable and able to be differentiated between in play.
Many of them illustrate the ancient Greek and Roman myths, or fables, which contribute to current
divinatory meanings.
It should be noted that the cards do not follow the pattern of the zodiac that is commonly
recognized today, and is followed in modern Tarot associations. Rather, it begins with Libra, which
begins with the autumn equinox (the astrological year generally is seen to start after the spring equinox,
half a year away). After this there is no discernable pattern to their order, jumping back and forth as
well as betwen seasons. After Libra the pattern jumps back and forth to the signs on either side of it
(Virgo before, Scorpio after), then half a year away to Aries, then back to Capricorn a full season away,
then back one more to Sagittarius before jumping ahead to Cancer, half a year ahead of Capricorn
(from the winter solstice to the summer solstice). Next the order jumps to Pisces at the end of the
typical zodiac year, and its predecessor Aquarius, before jumping ahead to Leo, then back to Taurus
before progressing to its successor Gemini. There is no apparent order.
In reading with these cards, the associations are generally the same ones familiar to anyone who
has read a horoscope – the attributes that are associated with a person born under that sign, are the same
ones generally given to the card’s interpretation in a Minchiate reading.

XXIIII Libra
Libra is the sign of the Scales, and is depicted with the common central image of a set of balancing
pans. They are gold and finely made, but curiously hang disembodied in midair. There is no stand or
pedestal, no brace from which they are suspended. Rather, they seem to float, tied by a ribbon bow at
top but attached to nothing. A small fox stands on the balancing arm that joins the two level pans, and
a hedgehog or porcupine stands on the ground below.
A fox is an animal of cunning and wiles; in the fables of Aesop the fox is often depicted as urbane,
polite and smooth-talking. Celtic legend, not that this sort of lore featured much in the Minchiate but
that it must have derived from common thematic bases, holds the fox as a beast of great intelligence,
wisdom and resource. Add this to the hedgehog and its reputation in Renaissance Italy as resourceful
and wise, and we find that this contributes to the attributes of Libra.
Libra’s symbol of the scales is derived not from Themis (as is often assumed, based on the image
of Justice) but on her daughter with Zeus, Dike, who is usually depicted as bearing sword and scales.
The Greek goddess Dike – her Roman equivalent is Justitia – was the goddess of justice; she and her
mother were often considered interchangeable, as both had come to represent the principle of justice.
According to Aratus, Dike became sickened at the greed of mankind and chose to leave Earth and
inhabit the sky as a constellation; she took the form of Virgo and her scales became separated from the
maiden to become the adjacent constellation Libra.
When reading with the Minchiate, the appearance of Libra would suggest the qualities of the beasts
shown in this card: wisdom, intelligence, urbane sophistication. As Libra is the astrological house of
Relationships, it would lend itself as well to idealism and romance in social interactions. In general
Libra is also diplomatic, fair-minded and able to see both sides in an argument. All of these qualities
may be suggested, or a need to integrate them into a situation, depending on the nature of the reading.

XXV Virgo
Virgo is the sign of the Virgin, a sign in the zodiac that ends at the autumn equinox. Associated as
it is with a time of harvest, it is depicted as a maiden bearing a sheaf of wheat or frond of palm.
Theories on the associated myth varies; often the maiden is assumed to be Demeter, goddess of the
harvest and agriculture, other times she is Parthenos, virginal maiden who cast herself into the sea for
fear of her father’s wrath, but was rescued by Apollo.
In the Minchiate Fiorentine the card depicts Virgo as a winged maiden, modestly gowned, smiling
sweetly and holding a frond of greenery as she stands between two trees that may be cedar, or cypress.
In this way she suggests modesty and protection, shyness – all qualities associated with virginity.
The astrological sign is associated with an analytical mind and interest in details, as well as
discriminating tastes. Virgo is the sign of Hearth and Health, hailing back to its role as an Earth sign
that falls during the harvest season, and so one dedicated to practical matters of provisions and comfort.
All of these are matters that would be suggested by this card if it were to appear in a reading.

XXVI Scorpio
The sign of Scorpio, the Scorpion, is depicted in the Minchiate by a crustacean, a scorpion that
looks to me more like a crayfish or lobster. It is a dark brown shade in the Minchiate Fiorentine, and
floats in the air above an expanse of water. A duck floats on the surface below; why, I’m not sure
unless it’s to hint at the symbol of the eagle that is sometimes improbably associated with this sign; a
distant connection, but it’s either that or the duck is simply ornamental.
The sign of Scorpio falls in the late fall, spanning the old Celtic festival of Samhain in which the
boundary between life and death were said to be thin. It was adopted by the Church as All Saints’ or
All Hallow’s Day, and was immediately preceded by All Hallow’s Eve, or Hallowe’en. It derives from
the Greek myth of the scorpion sent by Apollo to kill Orion for jealousy of his twin Artemis’ attraction
to him. The scorpion is the animal most commonly associated with this constellation, but the snake
and the eagle are also used, relating to nearby constellations Ophiuchus and Aquila.
As the astrological house of Sex, Scorpio is a sign that is passionate and forceful, exciting and
emotional. In a reading it may pertain to taboos such as sex and death, or suggest a surge of excitement
in the near future.

XXVII Aries
Aries, the sign of the Ram, is depicted in the Minchiate as a male sheep, a brown curly-horned
ram, rises up on his hind legs and turns his head to gaze quizzically at the viewer. In the background is
a figure that could be a lamb or ewe, or a dog ostensibly charged with guarding the flock of which this
ram is a part; it is curled up in a ball asleep on the grass. Mountains rise in the background, suggesting
the role of wild mountain ram.
In the astrological year Aries is the first sign, beginning at the spring equinox. As such, it is a sign
of initiatory energy. The symbol of the ram comes from the myth of Jason and the Argonauts, the
flying ram Chrysomallus, source of the Golden Fleece.
With their aggressive energy and phallic horns, rams and thus Aries are very masculine symbols in
the most archetypal sense. As such Aries is the astrological house of the Ego, and suggests a love of
competition, a strong urge to win and be the best, brimming with confidence, courage, enthusiasm. He
is able to look after himself and those around him, like the lamb behind him who sleeps secure in its
sense of being protected. Aries is a pioneering spirit whose ego also gives a strong ambitious drive, a
need to succeed and prove oneself. All of these aspects can be viewed as interpretations of this card in
the Minchiate.

XXVIII Capricorn
The sign of Capricorn is most generally called the sign of the Goat. However, this isn’t the real
picture that we see. For the symbol of Capricorn is only a goat from what we’ll call the waist up; a
brown-haired and curly-horned goat for the head and two front feet. Below this, though, is the tail of a
fish or sea serpent, scaled and ending in a finned tail. Like a mermaid in a cartoon, Capricorn appears
to stand up on the smallest curl of tail at the end; he floats on or just above the surface of the sea. He
holds a staff or sceptre between his two front legs, so that the base almost touches a turtle that is
crossing the water. The goat is in profile and looks slightly up, appearing old and haggard, wise and
sad.
The symbol of the hybrid Sea-Goat hails back to the Sumerian Enki, god of wisdom and the
waters, and the Babylonian Ea, god of many things, including intelligence and water. When the
constellations were adopted and adapted by the ancient Greeks, Capricorn was related to Pan for the
goat half, ignoring the aquatic lower half. There were later attempts to reverse engineer the myths to
match the image, but the fact remains that the Sea-Goat is perhaps the oldest of the astrological images
still in use today.
Beginning at the winter solstice, the sign of Capricorn is often considered to be the least exciting in
the zodiac. The astrological house of Politics, Capricorn is held to embody aspects of responsibility,
common sense, hard work, reserve, discipline, caution. It is a slow-moving and sometimes stodgy sign
that may be seen as boring or stick-in-the mud. These are admirable, if unexciting, characteristics that
may be present when Capricorn appears in a Minchiate reading.

XXVIIII Sagittarius
Sagittarius is the sign of the Archer, whose astrological glyph is a simple arrow. In the Minchiate
depiction he is shown as a centaur, bearded naked man above the waist and brown rearing stallion
below. Despite his front legs being in the air, the centaur holds his elaborate golden bow and arrow
steady as he aims it diagonally upward, string taut as if about to release and let the arrow fly. The only
other figure in this card is a curly-tailed boar or wild pig in the background.
In Greek mythology, the sign of Sagittarius is associated with the centaur Chiron, renowned as
wise and just and mentor of Achilles as a youth. Centaurs were said to be warlike and uncivilized, and
armed with bow and arrow in mythology ranging from Mesopotamia right up to Harry Potter. The
boar behind his is concluded to relate to Chiron and his role in the labours of Hercules, the fourth of
which was to capture or kill the boar on Mount Erymanthus, en route to which he encountered centaurs
and fought them, wounding Chiron. And curiously, ancient Roman archers were apparently known as
Sagittarii.
Sagittarius in the astrological calendar ends at the winter solstice, thus falling as the autumn ends
and the earth goes to sleep for the winter. The astrological house of Higher Communication, it is
associated with those finer qualities for which Chiron was known: wisdom and honesty, straightforward
manner, love of intellectual and philosophical pursuits, bravery. Also like the stargazing centaurs in the
Harry Potter series, there is also an association with prophecy; those with that gift were traditionally
said to be born under this sign. All of these aspects can inform a reading in which Sagittarius appears.

XXX Cancer
Cancer is the sign of the Crab, the self-protective and scuttling creature of the oceans, comfortable
at the deepest depths. In the Minchiate it is depicted by a typical picture of a crab, with pincers not
overly large, standing above a calm sea and on its side as if depicted from the top (except in the case of
the Minchiate Francesi, which depicts something more like a lobster or crayfish; the Francesi illustrates
the astrological signs, but labels them as months of the year in which they begin).
In mythology Cancer is represented by the Karkinos, the crab sent by Hera to torment Hercules as
he battled the Hydra. Hercules crushed it under his foot, and Hera placed it in the sky in recognition of
its efforts.
The sign of Cancer falls after the summer solstice, to cover the hottest part of the year. Cancer is a
watery sign of love and sympathy and, like a crab, hides a soft and vulnerable interior under a hard and
crusty exterior. Cancer is loving, holding tight to those people and ideals it holds dear. And dwelling
as it does on the bottom of the sea, it has a deep unconscious, subject to intuition and sideways
instinctive moves. Crabs and other crustaceans carry their armour with them, equally at home in water
or on land, as such, Cancer is the astrological house of the Home. In a Minchiate reading, Cancer
would represent such attributes.

XXXI Pisces
Pisces is the sign of the Fish, and depicts a pair of fish, perfectly shaped and scaled identical fish
that make me think of Swedish Fish candies. They float in the air above water on a white gull floats. A
stream of water or a ribbon or line joins them by the mouth, forming almost an S shape as they are
arranged head to tail.
These fish are said to represent the half-brothers of Chiron (shown in Sagittarius) twin
ichthyocentaurs Aphros and Bythos. They were centaurs who from the waist down were horses in front
and fish tails in back; credited with bearing Aphrodite’s seashell to land, they were placed in the sky in
recognition.
 Pisces ends at the spring equinox, as the winter ends. It is said to be an intuitive, imaginative and
highly sensitive sign, empathetic and loving. The astrological house of Secrets, Pisces is introspective
and mystical. All of these aspects are expected to feature in a reading when Pisces appears.

XXXII Aquarius
I think because of my familiarity with the Tarot and its astrological associations, I always thought
of Aquarius as a feminine figure. So the Minchiate’s depiction always sort of surprised me. Because it
is a man. In the Etruria and Fiorentine we see him as a rustic farmer, bearded, barefoot and straw-
hatted, a yoke or sickle held in one hand and the other pouring water from a jug or watering can onto
flowers before him. The Al Leone depicts a stylish youth, blithely pouring water onto the ground from
a jug or vase in either hand.
Aquarius the Water-Bearer is the sign that falls after Capricorn, covering January into February and
some of the coldest time of the year in the northern hemisphere. It is equated to Ganymede, the
handsome youth abducted by Zeus to serve as cupbearer of the gods.
This sign is associated with humanitarianism and perception, independence and intellectual
curiousity. Astrologically it is associated with the house of Friendship. In the Minchiate that is how
this card would be read, as people who are true friends with the qualities one associated with Aquarius.
Alternately it may urge you to adopt these traits, or to turn to friends for aid.

XXXIII Leo
Leo, the Lion shows a brown lion on its hind legs against a red background. A lion rampant
according to heraldry. Its symbolism is based on the Egyptian lion-headed goddess Sekmeth; in later
Greek mythology it was adapted to the Nemean lion bested by Hercules.
The astrological sign rules July into August, the hottest point of summer in the northern
hemisphere. Its fiery influence is felt in Leo’s temperament, flair for excitement and drama. Leo is a
solar sign ruled by the Sun, and it shows.
Typically in a reading Leo could be assumed to represent those attributes usually assigned to those
born under that sign: boldness, warmth, fire, a love of attention and being centre stage. Creative,
expansive and extroverted, Leo is open and loving, but also extravagant and possibly prone to
selfishess. It is important to note as well that in astrology Leo is the house of the Father, which
suggests order and rules and authority, which would also factor into the interpretation.

XXXIIII Taurus
Taurus is the sign of the Bull, and is depicted in the Minchiate by a heavy brown or sometimes
white bull that stands in a field against a red sky and has no anthropomorphic characteristics. The
Greeks associated this sign with the myth of Zeus, in the form of a white bull, abducting the beautiful
Europa. But the sign is older even than that. Bull worship was noted in ancient Mesopotamia as well
as the Egyptian bull Apis and the cow goddess Hathor. Taurus rules the spring, from the end of April
into May, a time of cultivating the land, and hence is a sign of fertility and agriculture.
When reading this card in the Minchiate, it can be assigned the same attributes that are usually
given to Taureans. These would include tranquility, persistent and even stubborn pursuit of goals, but
placidity and a determination toward stability and material comfort. As the astrological house of
Property, this would stand to reason and would lend itself to this most pragmatic of signs.

XXXV Gemini
Gemini, sign of the Twins, rules the night sky from late May into June, ending at or around the
summer solstice. It shows, curiously, a different image entirely betwee versions. In the Minchiate
Etruria, for example, the twins are maidens like Venus in Botticelli’s painting, nude and with billowing
long red-gold hair (Helen and Clytemnestra, some have posited). But in the Minchiate Fiorentine to
which I refer, they are male twins. Adult males, nude other than a cloak that shields the modesty of
both men, each of whom wears a gladiator’s helmet. As in Leo and Taurus before, the sky is red.
Personally I prefer the male version, which likens the twins to the Greek myth of Castor and Pollux
who were sons of Zeus and Leda. When Castor died, Zeus transformed his twin into a star so that the
brothers, as the constellation Gemini, would be reunited.
When reading the Minchiate, Gemini is a card that indicates wit, eloquence and sharp intelligence.
As the house of Lower Communication, it suggests all of this, as well as great versatility or duality, or a
need for such things.

The Arie Cards

The last subset of the Minchiate trumps are the last five unnumbered cards: the Star, Moon, Sun,
World and Fame, which are set apart stylistically. It is supposed that from the time of the Minchiate as
a gaming device this was done to show at a glance those trumps that rank the highest in play. Usually
this is shown by the colouring of these top five cards. In the Minchiate Fiorentine and similar, this is
shown by a solid red background; in the engraved Minchiate Etruria this is shown by a more naturally
coloured and brightly saturated background.
These cards have come to be known collectively as the Arie cards, or Air cards. Why this name is
uncertain; it can be supposed to be due to their elevated status for ranking.
Interestingly, the top three of the zodiac cards, Leo, Taurus and Gemini, the three immediately
preceding cards, are also coloured in the same way in those decks whose skies are red. However, these
are numbered and not referred to as Arie cards.

The Star
As the first unnumbered card of the Arie or Air subset, the Star has a red background to allow it to
stand out in game-playing along with the other top-ranking trump cards of the deck. Unlike the nude
maiden of the Tarot Star, the Minchiate version shows a richly robed man, a king, on horseback. He
wears a wide fur collar atop around his neck and a golden crown on his head. With one hand he
manages the reins of his horse, and with the other he holds a lidded golden goblet like a burial urn. The
horse is shown in mid-leap or mid-prance, with forefeet off the ground, and is clearly a spirited steed
but this king controls it easily one-handed. In fact, he isn’t even paying attention. Rather, his head is
turned back in the direction from whence he came rather than where he’s going.
A single star, eight perfectly equal-armed rays, hangs just below the puffy white clouds at the
topmost frame of the card. I’m reminded of the Three Magi of the Christmas Nativity, as if the
monstrance he holds contains frankincense or myrrh. What better sign, then, in light of this last
sentence, for the hope and clarity of the future that one associates with the Star in the fortune-telling
tradition?
What is in the reliquary he holds? And to where does he carry it? Is it full of offerings to a newly
born Messiah, a new hope? Is it full of hopes and dreams? As a cup is a receptacle of liquid, does it
hold the water of life, the blood of Christ? I see it as the latter, the water of the spirit. In this way, the
Star of the Minchiate represents new hope and revelations, inspiration, insight and spirituality. Those
who have walked in darkness have seen a great light.

The Moon
The Moon in the Minchiate shows the same red background of all the Arie cards, against which a
bearded and balding man, like an aging scholar or monk, gazes upward at the Moon. The Moon has a
face in three-quarters profile – somewhere in between the full frontal view of the Tarot de Marseille I
pattern and the profile of the Tarot de Marseille II. Its face is serene and feminine, mature and above
the attention of the classical astronomer below.
 How do we know he’s an astronomer? He holds a circular disk marked like a clock face by the
edge; there’s something about it that makes me think of a sundial, although held upright against one
knee. In his other hand he holds a compass or a set of dividers. It makes me think he is measuring the
distance for triangulation purposes, as well as examining the shadow cast by the angle of the
moonlight. Robert M. Place, in discussing these mathematical tools on other early decks such as the
Gringonneur and the Rosenwald Sheets, represent the union of physical and spiritual worlds, the
precise triangulation of the dividers and the eternal perfection of circles drawn by the compass. He sits
on green that reminds me more of grass and a little less of having his feet in the water.
The Moon is the classical planet closest to us and thus seen to be the one moving the fastest, as its
changing phases is most obvious to us. We have a special relationship to the Moon, which is said to be
feminine, dark, passive and changeable. Impressions of moonlight have traditionally been that of
inconsistency (things look different by moonlight), the occult, mysterious and unknown. But this
image adds something further to it, a nuance of fascination and captivation, a subject of study. So what
of the study aspect, the scholarly astronomer? I think of a fascination, a desire to learn of these occult
and unknown factors.

The Sun
On the third of the unnumbered red-skied Arie cards, we have the Sun. A serene full-frontal face,
the merest hint of a Mona Lisa smile on its full lips, sends its fine rays in all directions over a peaceful
scene. But there is no child, no sunflowers, no horse or banner. Rather, like that seen in the Soprafino
Tarot and similar Milanese style patterns, the central two figures are a pair of lovers seated on the
ground in a casual entwining, like sweethearts at a picnic under a tree. She appears to be on a slightly
more elevated seat, as though on a low stump or hummock above him on the ground. His arms are
around her, one about her shoulders and the other her waist to clasp her hand. They gaze into one
another’s eyes, and sit one the grass apart from a walled city or tower.
The innocence I tend to associate with the Sun is not so present here. Not the new and childlike
innocence of the Tarot de Marseille and later decks. But the innocent affection, chaste loving
paramours that remind me of the children in their Sunday School clothing on the 1930s Thomson-Leng
deck.
The Minchiate Sun still makes me think of happiness, love, a couple on whom the sun will always
shine. It is not illumination, but simply happiness. A time and a feeling where nothing can go wrong.
And it is as simple as that. There is contentment, quiet happiness, particularly in relationships. All that
goes on that this time is positive and goes well.

The World
Unlike the Tarot, in which the World or Universe card is the last or highest-ranking of the trumps,
the World in the Minchiate pattern is the second last, the penultimate of the Arie cards and the trumps
in general, succeeded only by Fame.
The World here is a nude and androgynous figure, swathed by a scarf that hides the figure’s gender
(although in this case the figure’s chest is flat, suggesting a male), and white feathered wings. Smiling,
he or she holds a crown raised in one hand, and a feathered arrow as long as a spear in the other.
Standing on a blue globe marked with the name EUROPA upon which four cherubs’ heads blow as in
representation of the four winds, he or she appears calm and unruffled against the red sky.
What does it mean? Google, the Bible and medieval biblical imagery sent me in the direction of
the below quote from Revelation 7:1-3:
And after these things I saw four angels standing on the four corners of the earth, holding
the four winds of the earth, that the wind should not blow on the earth, nor on the sea, nor
on any tree. And I saw another angel ascending from the east, having the seal of the living
God: and he cried with a loud voice to the four angels, to whom it was given to hurt the
 earth and the sea, Saying, Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees, till we have
sealed the servants of our God in their foreheads.
So in this case, the four cherubic faces hold the four winds? And hurt the earth and the sea and the
trees? This part escapes me, but various online commentaries suggest it hails back to the undeserved
wrath to which the earth is subjected; the angels hold this back, offering divine protection. They would
be the four archangels: Michael, Gabriel, Raphael and Uriel, to each of whom a cardinal direction is
assigned.
The main figure, the angel ascending from the east, stands on the earth (or, as Europa, the only
earth that mattered to the Renaissance symbolism used in the Minchiate).
Just as some consider the female dancer in the Tarot de Marseille World card to be the female
divine incarnate, Sophia, I would take the figure here to be the male version. Jesus, perhaps. Or to mix
texts, perhaps he is Eros or Cupid (the crown and arrow in his hands would suggest him to be the same
as the one seen in the trump Love; herein we have the culmination of Petrarch’s I Trionfi).
In reading the Minchiate, I would consider this to be a card of triumph. As in the Tarot, a card of
great achievement and accomplishments, when success is in sight and a sense of completion, a great
work is finished. Recognition is forthcoming, as seen in the following card. Here in the Minchiate, the
World is the penultimate card.

Fame
Fame is one whose good name lives on, survives beyond the mortal coil. This is why it is the last
of the trumps in the Minchiate. This is based on Petrarch’s I Trionfi, for all that it is not the last in that
example. Many illustrations of Petrarch’s work shows this, illustrating a trumpet-playing angel atop
the triumphal car, very similar to that illustrated in the Minchiate card as well as the Biblical scene of
the Last Judgement that replaces this card in the Tarot.
In the Minchiate, this card shows the same red or highly-coloured backdrop as the other Arie cards
that came before. The richly gowned but barefooted angel, large white feathery wings behind, holds
two golden trumpets such as those borne by medieval pages or Christmas card angels. Banners hang
from each; in the version of the Fiorentine I am using, one is shadowed gray and the other is yellow
and shows a fleur de lis pattern. Smiling, this hefty and muscular angel holds both trumpets to her lips
as though playing them simultaneously.
Beneath her as she flies is a walled city, that those in the know assure us is Florence (the domed
church being the key landmark), ruled at the time by the Medici family. In fact, the shadowed banner is
visibly shown on the Minchiate Etruria to display the Medici family’s coat of arms, with its round pills
hailing back to the name’s origins in “medicine”.
On the outer walls of the city is written the motto “FAMA VOLAT”, which translates to “Rumour
has wings” and is or was used colloquially to refer to future fame being assured (I would also see it as a
suggestion of fame being swift and far-reaching; a family whose reputation precedes them). This
would have been a likely attempt on the artist’s part to curry favour of a powerful patron.
In a reading I would take this to mean the culmination of that which came before, to reaping the
rewards of glory, accolade, recognition, respect and opportunity. All material as well as intangible
benefits of that which has been achieved.

The Suit of Staves

Staves in the Minchiate are depicted as a plain wooden sceptre or staff, knobbed with turned ends.
My theory of this suit is that of the peasantry in medieval times. Not the unskilled labourers and serfs,
though; notice how well-worked and often elaborate these staves are (the Ace in particular). Rather,
this suit is that of craftsmen, skilled tradesmen and farmers, sought-after artisans. It suggests not just
resourcefulness and hard work, but also the energy to strive and achieve goals.
Ace of Staves
The Ace of Staves is the most elaborately worked of the staves in the suit. This is a common
theme for all four suits, as the largest and fanciest of the emblems.
A hand emerges from a simple sleeve, like that of a monastic robe or worker’s jerkin, to grasp a
well-carved staff at the base, as if the hilt of a sword. This suggests to me the concept of the staff as a
tool. Its ends are rounded gold caps in the Minchiate Fiorentine (the colours are muted in the Etruria),
with the bottommost one elaborately carved as if a crown. The base gripped by this strong hand is red,
as is the short length at the top of the staff below the uppermost cap. At bottom, above the hand’s grip,
this gives way to a gold ring from which issue golden leaves like the outermost leaves of a leek,
cupping ornamentally and protectively about a blue shaft that rises to another gold ring that separates
the blue and red segments.
The blue segment is the longest portion of the staff; it is ringed by a golden crown that hovers as
though floating around it. The crown has red jewels and slightly flared rays issued from the top of the
circlet, with a fleur de lis at the front. This shows it to be the Grand Ducal crown of Tuscany as first
adoped by the Medici. A dark green ribbon is tied around the central point and appears to flutter as if in
an updraft. The Etruria version is more musted in colour, but the staff appears to be more of a weapon,
and the crown hovers above the staff rather than around it.
The crown represents authority as well as victory. As something that is worn above the head it can
represent the higher spiritual ideals. The fact that it surrounds the base of the practical staff, tool of
labour as well as of craftsmanship, sort of hallows it. “God bless the work,” as they say. This supports
the exalted nature of the Aces as the first card, the originating point, the seed of the suit’s energy. In the
case of the suit of Staves, this is the first seed of the energy required to start a new venture, get a new
project off the ground. In this case, it is off to a good start and will result in a positive outcome.

Two of Staves
The Two of Staves is the only one of the Staves pip cards to be illustrated by anything other than
the suit elements. Here it shows two diagonally crossed staves that extend to the four corners of the
card, and meet in the centre to be tied with a ribbon or banner (blue in the case of the Minchiate
Fiorentine). The top and bottom gaps of the X they form are filled by small figures. At top a naked
male figure holding a palm frond over one shoulder, and trails a length of the same blue ribbon behind
him. He is arrested in profile in a pose as if running, ribbon and palm fluttering in his wake. At the
bottom, which is spread with green grass, stands a bird with a long bill – presumably a stork – and sits
a brown fox. A tall vase or urn with a long narrow neck is between them.
The runner at top makes me think of a courier or messenger bearing news. Perhaps news of peace,
or of victory. But the tableau at bottom is of the most interest. It’s a scene from Aesop’s Fables, the
tale of the Fox and the Stork, retold below:
At one time the Fox and the Stork were on visiting terms and seemed very good friends. So
the Fox invited the Stork to dinner, and for a joke put nothing before her but some soup in a
very shallow dish. This the Fox could easily lap up, but the Stork could only wet the end of
her long bill in it, and left the meal as hungry as when she began. “I am sorry, said the Fox,
“the soup is not to your liking.”
“Pray do not apologise,” said the Stork. “I hope you will return this visit, and come and
dine with me soon.” So a day was appointed when the Fox should visit the Stork; but when
they were seated at table all that was for their dinner was contained in a very long-necked
jar with a narrow mouth, in which the Fox could not insert his snout, so all he could
manage to do was to lick the outside of the jar. “I will not apologise for the dinner,” said
the Stork: “One bad turn deserves another.”
So this picture illustrates the stork getting her revenge against the fox for his prank. The tall jar is
the one that the stork could drink from but the fox could not.
 What’s more, two in numerology is a number of duality and balance. Of things that are coming
about and restoring or establishing harmony. The suit of Staves is a suit of energy, resourcefulness and
ambition.
Combining these aspects with the images of the messenger and the turnabout of the fox and stork,
we have a possible interpretation in a reading of using craftiness and creative thinking to turn the
tables, to arrive at a plan of action in order to achieve goals or victory and restore balance. This is how
the Two of Staves in the Minchiate may be read.

Three of Staves
The Three of Staves shows the three titular staves, elaborately turned and polished and coloured
red, blue and yellow, arranged so that two cross diagonally atop a third that is perfectly vertical. A blue
ribbon is tied about the intersecting point, at the centre of the card, holding them together. There are no
other embellishments to this card.
The suit of Staves is a suit of ambition, hard work borne of energy and striving and resource.
When combined with the Three of harmony and creation, we see that this hard work bears fruit. A
project is off to an excellent start, first results are beginning to come in, and they are positive.

Four of Staves
In the Four of Staves we see, well, four staves, two primarily yellow and two primarily red, are
crossed in two interlocking X shapes, slightly staggered. There are no other decorations in this card.
The suit of Staves in the Minchiate is a suit of ambition and resolve. In numerology Four is the
number of stability. It appears that this card in a reading would be about the previous work projects
that are under way will take form, will gel and stabilize.
This is a card of success and stability, leading to satisfaction with the progress made to date and a
new and secure basis on which to carry on.

Five of Staves
The Five of Staves in the Minchiate is identical to the Four, but for the addition of a fifth staff that
runs vertically behind the crossed four staves.
Five is the number of upset harmony, of balance thrown temporarily out of order. In the suit of
Staves, this upset is applied to work, to creative ventures and craft, and to great energy. When the Five
of Staves appears in a reading, it can thus refer to great energy being expended in work and projects but
for no benefit. Plans are upset and energy expended in fruitless striving and struggle that comes to no
avail.

Six of Staves
In this card, six staves are intertwined, almost woven together, in a series of three X’s like those in
the Two and Four of Staves. Two pairs are predominantly gold, the centre third red.
Six is the number of balance restored. In the Six of Staves, the energy that was expended in off-
kilter work is brought back into harmony, and projects are now back on track.

Seven of Staves
In the Seven of Staves, one more staff is added to the intertwined three X’s of the Six, a vertical
staff behind the first sixth. As in most of the previous Staves cards, there is no further ornamentation to
this card.
Seven is viewed as yet another upset to the balance that has been achieved in the energy of the suit
in question. The balance and harmony of the Six has been upended, causing a setback in the energy
and the work of the suit of Wands. In this case, work is required to set it back on the proper course.
Eight of Staves
In the eight crossed and staggered staves shown here, an echo of the Four and Six, we see no visual
cues to add anything other than the numerological and suit aspects to the Eight of Staves.
Numerologically, Eight is a doubling of the Four’s stability. The creative energy and capacity for
work of the suit of Staves has a strong foundation on which it builds and achieves great levels, allowing
things to become even more established and balanced, and to set things in motion.

Nine of Staves
With the addition of a ninth vertical staff, mostly gold with red and blue finials at top and bottom,
placed behind the eight interwoven diagonal ones of the Eight, it’s really getting dense here. Small
wonder that there’s no room here for any other decoration.
As ever, the suit of Staves is the suit of the peasantry: the workers and the craftsmen of medieval
society. They lend to the cudgels and quarterstaffs of their suit emblem a degree of physical energy,
skill and creativity, and often deal with matters of drive and work. When viewed in the context of the
number Nine, a number of penultimate completion and the last step before the final conclusion of
labours, we can read the Nine of Staves as a momentary pause, a chance to step back, catch your breath
and see what’s been accomplished. Sometimes it’s seen as a moment to gather energy before taking the
final leg of a journey.

Ten of Staves
The Ten of Staves is little but staves. The densely crowded nine staves of the previous card – red
and gold – are joined by a much shorter blue staff laid horizontally behind. They are woven together
like an impenetrable net or basket. It is a very heavy, cumbersome image.
Ten is the final stage in this journey of the creative energy and work of the suit of Staves. It is the
point at which you determine what steps will be taken next. In this case, the excess weight crowds out
and stifles the vitality, and becomes burdensome. This card is thus a card of struggling on against the
odds, under greater burdens and demands, to carry on the work. In a reading it suggests that now may
be a time in which little appears to be accomplished, in which everything seems to work against your
goal.

Page of Staves
I wasn’t sure what to name this card in the Minchiate, as the suits of Staves and Swords show
armoured youths, young boys learning warcraft, while the suits of Cups and Coins depict maidens.
I’ve decided to go with the roles of Page and Handmaid, as a Page was typically a young man of noble
blood apprenticed to a knight to learn his future role.
In the Minchiate, the Page of Staves is a youth, looking like a teenager of fourteen or fifteen, just
growing into his strength, muscles beginning to show but face still smooth and youthful. He wears a
breastplate under a cloak and Roman warrior garb, with tunic skirt, leggings, shoulder guards and
sandals. He has a large round shield on one arm and brandishes a staff like a club; it looks like the
same one seen already on the Ace of Staves.
Pages in the Tarot are young, usually students still learning their craft and their place in society and
in their Staves family. In the abstract they would represent messages. When applied to the Minchiate I
would elaborate on this. As a male apprentice as opposed to the gentler helpmeet of the Handmaids,
the Page is a Knight in training and son of the King; as such he more aggressively applies himself to
learn the trade of his family. In the case of the suit of Staves this would refer to craftsmanship and
energtic resourcefulness. Such a youth would be enthusiastic and energetic, applying this energy
swiftly and decisively. Now is the time for him to apply this energy to move in the right direction. He
has an adventurous spirit that requires focus. In a reading it may also suggest messages and news of
things that are happening quickly and require immediate action.
Knight of Staves
In the Minchiate, all four Knights are half-man and half-beast. In the case of the Knight of Staves,
from the waist up her has the body of a wild man. Swarthy and staring with hair and beard unkempt.
He is in fact the only one of the four knights to be bearded, a wild man, savage and untamed. He holds
a long stave in one hand, and a wide silvery round shield in the other.
From the waist down his body is that of a beast, or a combination of beasts. He has forelegs like a
horse, hooves kicking out in the air like an overexcited stallion. But the body makes me think of a lion,
a thick body and wide back paws rather than hooves, a lion’s tufted tail and squatting on his haunches.
In his modern redrawing of the Minchiate, Brian Williams depicted him as a complete centaur, nothing
but horse from the waist down. But the traditional renderings show him as a less clear mix of several
beasts.
When reading the Minchiate, I would see this card as a young man of great energy, lust, vitality
and brute strength. He is more extreme and wild than his more genteel counterparts, braver and most
likely a ferocious warrior. I tend to view Knights as young men, as swift action and the coming and
going of a matter. Applied to the energetic resourcefulness and craftsmanship of the suit of Staves, this
would be even swifter than his rank would otherwise call for. But such a man would possess these
qualities and use them decisively.
As Minchiate Knights are centaurs or hybrids, this suggests a status in flux. The graduation of boy
to man, to becoming something else. To progress from swift and lethal action of lion and horse to
warrior, in this case. The Knight of Staves is still learning his role, but is in the process of channeling
that energy to transform into the ruler he will eventually become.

Queen of Staves
The Queen of Staves wears a simple green gown under a red cloak that flows and billows about her
as she sits on a low cushioned bench. Something blue is seen over one shoulder (this is based on the
Minchiate Fiorentine Queen of Staves; in the Minchiate Etruria this is a continuation of the olive green
cloak she wears over her violet gown). In this context I take it to be an accent or lining of her cloak.
Her legs are daintily crossed at the ankles, showing only her sandaled feet below the hem. Her crown
is gold, of the same pattern as the other Queens.
But it is the staff she bears that is most curious. It appears bigger and thicker than any borne by the
rest of her Staves royal family. As thick as her arm, she holds it in both hands hefted like a torpedo.
Were she to hold it upright in her lap it would no doubt rise above the height of her head. It’s a very
phallic, masculine statement piece. She gazes down toward the rounded base that she cups in her lower
hand, smiling slightly. It’s really a bawdy image when you put it all together like this.
Normally, Queens are the feminine and nurturing aspect of their suit. In the case of Staves, this
aspect comes to bear on the suit’s energy and creative action. So she is a very willful woman in that
case, proactive and full of energy to bring to the new projects she manifests. This suggests a rather
masculine, active energy, passion and drive. No wonder she wields the masculine emblem with such
confidence. In a reading, the Queen of Staves may thus manifest as passionate active energy, possibly
great sexual drive. She will be vital, ambitious and charismatic. Alternately, such energies will
manifest in a situation or will be required.

King of Staves
The King of Staves looks out of place on his perch on a delicately spindly golden chair. For he
himself wears the garb of a Roman centurion, tunic under an armoured breastplate with a voluminous
red cape that draped around and over him, fastened at one shoulder. He wears a golden crown like that
of his Queen and of the Grand Duke, and bears a large staff like that of his Queen. Whether the King’s
staff is smaller than hers or just seems so proportionately, is subject to interpretation. I see them as
being the same size, showing further her active energy and insistence on her role as equal to her mate.
He sits casually, comfortably in his chair, half-turned to look over his shoulder and his free elbow
resting on the back of the chair.
To me, this card suggests a man who is comfortable in his office, in his role of commander. He is a
leader of men. Kings are symbolic of authority, and Staves of energy and resourcefulness, energy and
charisma. As such, the King of Staves would represent a charismatic leader of men, one whom his men
would follow anywhere. He is forceful, bold and dashing, and his swift and decisive action would
manifest as a great leader or dynamic business model.

The Suit of Cups

Cups, reminders of the Holy Grail and the chalices of the Church, hail back to the clergy in
medieval society. This suggests people of God, spiritual, contemplative, kind and thinking of others.
This is how I view the suit of Cups in the Minchiate.
The cups depicted on the pip cards are varied, but for the most part are elaborate vessels such as
urns or monstrances for the altar.

Ace of Cups
The Ace of Cups in the Minchiate Fiorentine doesn’t look much like a cup. More like a Faberge
egg. It’s as red as a ruby, and embellished with lavish gold accents – band and scallops, looped handles
at either side, leaves at base, stem above a red base, ornamental acorn-type handle at the top like the
knob at the top of the lid of my sugar bowl. I can’t quite figure out how it’s a cup, unless the gold leaf
accents and acorn are in fact a lid on an urn or similar reliquary.
The suit of Cups is a suit of spirituality, of quiet contemplation and gentle emotion. As the Ace is
the initiating point, the first spark of the suit’s energy, this suggests the first beginning of emotion –
usually interpreted as the start of a new relationship or fresh romance. It may also be read as the onset
of a new spiritual path or epiphany.

Two of Cups
The Two of Cups is unillustrated, save for the titular two cups, one atop the other. They look more
like urns or reliquaries than cups to drink from: resting on square bases like plinths, they have broad
bowls that narrow to small mouths capped by lids; twining handles on either side resemble serpents that
bite the lip of the cup in the Fiorentine.
Two is the number of duality or harmony, of union and balance. In the spiritual and emotional suit
of Cups, this would represent much the same thing as it does in the modern Golden Dawn pattern. That
is, a happy and harmonious union, joy and contentment, particularly in relationships and partnerships.
Often viewed as a lesser manifestation of the Love card in the trumps, it can be seen to suggest a
meeting of kindred spirits, marriage or engagement, or successful and mutually beneficial mergers or
partnerships.

Three of Cups
Three Cups or urns, very like the ones in the Two but taller and narrower and with simpler handles
on either side, are arranged with one at the top of the card and two at the bottom. In the middle of the
card between them is a curious animal standing in profile on grass, prancing and looking quite proud.
This animal puzzled me in the Minchiate Fiorentine; it appears to be a llama with a lion’s mane, or
a lion with an elongated neck and nose. This I had chalked up to amateurish artwork, but the Minchiate
Etruria cleared it up for me. In this version he has a more clear delineation between a body with short
gray hair and a brown-furred head and mane. Now I can see it as the body of a donkey and the ruff of a
lion.
 This appears to be an illustration of Aesop’s fable of the Ass in the Lion’s Skin (which also
reminds me of the opening of The Last Battle, the final book in the Chronicles of Narnia, in which
Puzzle the donkey is passed of Aslan after being compelled to don the skin of a lion):
An Ass found a Lion's skin left in the forest by a hunter. He dressed himself in it, and
amused himself by hiding in a thicket and rushing out suddenly at the animals who passed
that way. All took to their heels the moment they saw him.
The Ass was so pleased to see the animals running away from him, just as if he were King
Lion himself, that he could not keep from expressing his delight by a loud, harsh bray. A
Fox, who ran with the rest, stopped short as soon as he heard the voice. Approaching the
Ass, he said with a laugh:
"If you had kept your mouth shut you might have frightened me, too. But you gave yourself
away with that silly bray."
A fool may deceive by his dress and appearance, but his words will soon show what he
really is.
In numerology, Three is a number of creation and harmony, of two uniting to create a third. In the
emotional suit of Cups this may refer to celebration, as in the birth of a child. But the moral of the
fable illustrated herein adds another nuance to the interpretation. We see the possibility of celebration
and excess, of making a fool of oneself, losing control. It carries a cautionary note to not let yourself
get carried away, end up making a fool of yourself. As the saying goes, it is better to keep your mouth
shut and let people think you’re a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.

Four of Cups
The Four of Cups depicts a square of four tall urns, more graceful to my view than the ones that
came before, in the centre of which is a sitting monkey admiring his reflection in a small hand mirror.
In Renaissance imagery, monkeys were often used to represent mankind, a symbolic stand-in. And
as he sits here with the mirror in hand, it suggests self-examination.
Four is the number of stability and groundedness. In the spiritual and introspective suit of Cups I
think this may not necessarily be a good thing. Introspection is by its very nature a rather static activity
that is not improved by further stability. Rather, it can lead to brooding and cyclical thoughts, even
depression. This lends itself to self-examination, to looking too much into things and being displeased
with what is found within. As such, this is an unhappy and dissatisfied card.

Five of Cups
The five urn-like cups on this card are arranged in a square as in the Four of Cups, with the fifth
cup in the place of the monkey. In the Minchiate Fiorentine the cups have a pattern at their base as
though wrapped in green leaves, suggesting a freshness of nature.
Five is a number of upset, of setbacks and things thrown out of balance. In matters of emotion and
the spirit, as is the field of the suit of Cups, this suggests emotional upset, disappointment and grief.
But the freshness of the leaves makes me think that this is experienced in the first new flush of the
setback, and will abate in time, sharp though it may feel at present.

Six of Cups
In the Six of Cups, six jars or urns are neatly lined up in two vertical lines. They are mainly green
with the same leaf-markings as were found on those of the Five of Cups, with gold bands and feet, and
red bases and lids.
Six in their suits are the cards of harmony, when peace and balance of the suit’s energy is restored.
This is a particularly idyllic combination in the suit of Cups, with its energy of emotion and spirit. It is
a card of well-being and happiness, joy and contentment.
Seven of Cups
This card’s seven cups, in rows of three at top and bottom with the odd one in the centre, are
mostly gold, with green and red accents. Dark markings at the bottom of the bowls of each cup look
like jingle bells, as at the points on a jester’s cap. It makes them seem like toys or amusements,
something not to be taken seriously.
In the Seven of Cups we meet the upset of the established balance (Seven) in the world of dreams
and spirituality (Cups). This suggests the concept of daydreams and illusion, of energies scattered and
dispersed by fantasy and escapism into foolish matters and wasted time.

Eight of Cups
In the Eight of Cups, the urns are tall and slender, somehow less impressive than some others.
There are two at the top, and two rows of three below, and no further embellishment.
As discussed before in the Eight of Staves, Eights in numerology are a doubling of the stability of
the Four; so stable in fact that nothing can change or grow, and there is a risk of stagnation. In the case
of the suit of Cups, a suit of spirituality and intuition, this leads to lethargy and emotional stagnation,
from which it can be hard to escape.

Nine of Cups
The nine cups in this card are gold with red and green accents. They appear to fill up most of the
card’s space, with no further decoration. The gold of the cup is engraved as if wrapped in golden
leaves.
Nine is the ultimate completion of the suit’s energy. In the case of the Nine of Cups, the spiritual
and emotional pinnacle has been achieved, a high-water mark of satisfaction and contentment. A
spiritual epiphany may have been reached, or a dream realized.

Ten of Cups
In this card, ten cups are arranged in rows of three and two, three and two. They are green and
marked with leaves at the base of the bowl, with a gold band about the rim, and red and gold accents.
Very like those in the Six, but with more elaborate handles.
Contrary to what you would think, Ten is not the completion of the suit’s energy: that has already
come about in the Nine. Rather, Ten is more like a landing point. The time to catch your breath, gather
up your achievements and use this point as the jumping-off point to restart the cycle. And in the case
of the Ten of Cups, the emotional high-water mark has been achieved and now it is time to share that
joy with others, to take it to the next level by bringing it to loved ones. It is a time of tranquility and
delight in one’s emotional and spiritual blessings.

Handmaid of Cups
The passive, feminine suits of Cups and Coins replace the male Valet or Page with the female
Handmaid. In the case of the suit of Cups, the young girl that is the Handmaid of Cups wears a turban
like that worn by the Juggler at the start of the trumps, topped with a feather in front. She wears a
short-sleeved long gown like a nightdress, about which are draped cloaks or wraps of two different
colours.
With one hand she holds the folds of wrap and skirt as a modern woman would hold her skirt
against her legs in a high wind. With her other hand she holds up a cup that looks almost identical to
the one held by her mother the Queen of Cups, with only the embossings on the green rim slightly not
quite the same. She holds it to eye level and gazes slightly askance at it, her face downcast and serious.
I feel as though she has been charged to hold, carry or protect this cup and takes her role seriously.
As a child or immature person, one whose personality or role is still growing and developing, a
Page represents a fresh perspective, an innocent or novice. In the suit of Cups, which deal with matters
of emotion, intuition and spirituality, this may represent a budding romance, or an initiate or student in
a new spiritual path or field of esoteric study. Clearly it is new enough to weigh on the bearer, who
feels the weight of this new path and its self-imposed restrictions and responsibility, and takes it quite
to heart. As a Handmaid, a helpmeet and bearer of comfort, she is concerned with its impact on those
around her as well.
In a reading all of these factors may come to play in the interpretation of this card, as will the idea
of an immature and yet idealistic youth, childlike and concerned with the burdens of their new path as
opposed to the romance of it that one would expect from the Tarot card that equates to the Handmaid of
Cups.

Knight of Cups
The Knight of Cups is less straightforward than the half-man and half-horse centaurs on the Knight
of Staves and Knight of Swords. Or indeed in the half-man and half-lion Sphinx figure of the Knight
of Coins.
From the waist up he is a man, a bare-chested and bearded man with a pleasant smile and a
comical sort of teasing manner as he holds his cup on the flattened palm of his hand as though for show
or as if it’s an apple to feed a horse, pointing at it with the other hand as if saying, “This? You want this
cup? Oh, you want it?”
But from the waist down it’s much less straightforward. From the hips down is what appears to be
a brown-furred lion, and indeed his front paws are those of a lion. Past this point the body transitions
to the powerfully muscular and sinuous form of a large fish or serpent, curling elaborately to rest on the
grass that forms the backdrop of this card. In the Minchiate Etruria the transition from fur to scale is
abrupt, changing suddenly just behind the lion’s paws; in the Fiorentine the brown of the fur extends to
the very end of the tail. And issuing from where his hips would be are two finely feathered wings,
larger in the Fiorentine than in the Etruria, but elaborately detailed and comprised of bands of colour.
They extend behind the Knight’s body as if not to get in his way.
I didn’t realize until I began reading up on this card that while the Greek concept of the Sphinx is
female, the Egyptian concept is male. In the Greek imagery, below the waist she had the body of a
lion, wings of an eagle and tail of a serpent. And regardless of the gender, this is what is seen here.
The image of the Sphinx enjoyed a resurgence in popularity in the artwork and statuary of fifteenth-
century Rome, and so would have been a familiar figure to incorporate into the Minchiate. Or, perhaps,
the icthyocentaur, a Greek centaur who had the front legs of a horse and the rear of a fish while still
being a man from the waist up (which were discussed in Pisces). But the Greek Sphinx is a more likely
candidate.
To me, he suggests a figure who is equally at home in the air or the water as on the land. He is fish
and fowl, as well as man. This goes well with his easygoing countenance. As is to be expected from a
figure from the spiritual suit of Cups, he goes with the flow. As a young man in transition like all of the
Knights, he suggests one whose beliefs are intuition are being finalized. And it is to his general
approval, this transition. He is one who acts swiftly, but based on his heart, on his intuition, on his
spiritual guidance, all of which dictate his actions. Such a man could be read as a romantic, a dreamer,
a lover, a playful man who follows his heart.

Queen of Cups
The Queen of Cups is very similar in form to the Queen of Coins. She is standing, advancing upon
a table or altar that is at the edge of the scene, ostensibly to lay down the lidded chalice she holds aloft.
Glancing over one shoulder, she appears to be conferring with or seeking agreement from a figure
outside of the card’s frame of sight.
Her other hand holds a slender tulip-headed sceptre (remarkably like the one held by the Grand
Duke) casually against her shoulder; that hand also holds up the ends of a golden-yellow gown or toga
that she wears layered between her green gown and a red cape lined with ermine. Clearly she is a
woman of status and means, likely intended to illustrate the Grand Duchess that would have been
consort of the Grand Duke.
I get an impression of gentle good humour, of willingness and sweet wifely compliance and
domestic trivialities, in her gesture and her expression. She is the nurturing and gestating aspect of the
Cups’ spiritual and loving nature. She would be a manifestation of dreamlike state, of love and
spirituality, of the quintessential nurturing mother dispensing affection and comfort.

King of Cups
The King of Cups looks to be at home with a glass in his hand. He holds the chalice raised to eye
level and gazes at it smilingly, as if deciding whether it’s time to call for it to be refilled by the woman
of the house. He beams and looks jolly, even his armoured breastplate shows the round belly of one
used to the comforts of bread and board. He wears the same armoured breastplate, tunic and cape and
crown of his counterparts, but with leggings underneath, as if more conscious of his comfort or of his
modesty. With the hand not holding his cup, he holds the same sceptre as that held by his Queen.
Kings are the rulers or faces of authority in the Tarot. The corporation or other entity, the father
figure, the boss. In the spiritual suit of Cups, this may refer to spiritual leaders or authority, or the
merging of Church and State. Or the nurturing father figure. As a person, he would be the mature and
nurturing man of the house, the gentle diplomat, the loving spouse or father to whom his family always
feels they can turn to for advice or comfort.

The Suit of Swords

As the weapon of choice for knights and warriors of old, Swords are emblems of the nobility. A
good sword was required in the service of the king, and was a highly coveted status symbol and
weapon, carefully and lovingly crafted, handed down from father to son, extremely costly and labour-
intensive, treasured and symbolic of might and authority. As such, the suit of Swords in the Minchiate
is the suit of high-flown ideals of authority and rulership and the ideas and strategy that go with it.
What’s more, a Sword is a weapon used in warfare; this makes it a symbol (and hence a suit) of
conflict, of might, of imposing one’s will on another. As such, this suit is often troubled and bears bad
news or messages.

Ace of Swords
The Ace of Swords is very much like the Ace of Staves, in that a muscular hand issues from a
heavy sleeve (green in this case) and grips the hilt of a sword whose blade is circled by the same
Medici crown, from which flutters a red ribbon this time. The sword’s hilt is red and helically wrapped
with gold pommel and blade guard.
Aces in the Tarot and the Minchiate represent the first hint of the energy of their respective suit. In
the sharp and troublesome suit of Swords, with its central theme of conflict, this can represent the first
sign of strife, but also the first step on the path to victory. A show of force may be required.
Alternately, in the realm of strategy and ideas, this card might represent the first seed of an idea.

Two of Swords
The Two of Swords contains the expected two crossed swords, hilts in the top corners. At the
points where their blades intersect, they are tied with a golden yellow ribbon. The bottom of the card is
filled by green grass; a stag, a male deer, lies on the grass between the points of the swords.
As previously noted, the stag was a symbol of prudence. In ancient Greek mythology the stag was
sacred to the huntress Artemis, and the story is told of the hunter Actaeon who spied on her while
bathing; Artemis transformed him into a vulnerable stag, torn apart by his own hounds. But many also
associate the stag in this card to a lesser-known of Aesop’s Fables, that of the Sick Stag:
 A Sick Stag lay down in a quiet corner of its pasture-ground. His companions came in great
numbers to inquire after his health, and each one helped himself to a share of the food
which had been placed for his use; so that he died, not from his sickness, but from the
failure of the means of living.
Evil companions bring more hurt than profit.
So the stag represents many things: a creature not only of weakness but also of wisdom. Consider
this in conjunction with the duality and balance of the Two, and the strife and tension of the suit of
Swords. When all of these factors are brought together the Two of Swords in the Minchiate deck may
be read to counsel of wisdom that is hard won, learned of a fear of weakness, of letting your guard
down and being vulnerable. It is a card of uneasy balance, tension of trying to hold it all together in the
face of weakness, and the lessons that are to be learned as a result.

Three of Swords
In the Minchiate, the Three of Swords shows three swords that cross one another so that two form
an X through which the third is thrust point down. A red sash is tied around their junction, and an
eight-pointed star is on either side of it. At the bottom is a miniature scene, a tableau of a bony-ribbed
wolf suckling two nude infant children.
The scene is a clear reference to the myth of the twins Remus and Romulus. Sons of the Roman
god Mars, they were abandoned to die as infants and were rescued by Tiberius, god of the River Tiber,
and nursed by a she-wolf. When they grew to adulthood, the brothers quarrelled and Remus died at the
hands of Romulus or one of his supporters. Romulus founded the city of Roma, named for himself,
and the she-wolf suckling the babies was a common symbol of Rome. In this way the scene underlines
the Roman iconography so well-known to the Minchiate’s audience.
Three is the number of the Trinity, of the balance of the Two being augmented by more, and yet
remaining harmonious despite being thrown out of balance. In the suit of Swords, which is an unhappy
suit of conflict and strife, this suggests a multiplication or augmentation of sorrow, an instance of great
unhappiness and heartbreak.

Four of Swords
The Four of Swords has four crossed swords, diagonal pairs that cross in the middle. They are
identical to that found in the Ace, and in the square formed by the blades where they intersect but offset
in the centre is a red four-petalled flower. Above the swords sits a small gray monkey admiring himself
in a mirror; below them a unicorn rests on the grass.
As discussed in the Four of Cups, the monkey imitates mankind; his posture suggests here as there
a measure of introspection, reflection, self-examination. The unicorn is not only mythical but solitary;
it wasa said that it could only be caught by a virgin, and so was a symbol of chastity and by extension
of the Virgin Mary and of Jesus. Here we have the unicorn at rest, tamed by the chaste maiden,
vulnerable to capture.
Fours in the Tarot and the Minchiate represent stability. When combined with the conflict of the
suit of Swords, we would see this as a temporary cease-fire or truce, an end of hostilities, at least for
the time being. It is a time for rest and introspection, to withdraw, gather strength and regroup.

Five of Swords
Most of the Five of Swords is filled by the five swords of the title. They are crossed diagonally in
two pairs, hilts in the upper corners, with a fifth running straight down the middle. The swords are like
rapiers, red hilts with guard and pommel of gold.
At the bottom of the card is a scene that appears to be from Aesop’s fables or a nursery rhyme. A
flock of chickens, three or in some versions four, cluster around peering at a wolf, dog or fox who sits
in what looks like a box with archways cut in it; he pops his head from the top like a jack in the box.
 What this represents puzzled me. It took some trial and error before I finally concluded that this
little scene is an illustration of the fable of the Fox and the Cock (Rooster):
A Fox was caught in a trap one fine morning, because he had got too near the Farmer’s hen
house. No doubt he was hungry, but that was not an excuse for stealing. A Cock, rising
early, discovered what had happened. He knew the Fox could not get at him, so he went a
little closer to get a good look at his enemy.
The Fox saw a slender chance of escape.
“Dear friend,” he said, “I was just on my way to visit a sick relative, when I stumbled into
this string and got all tangled up. But please do not tell anybody about it. I dislike causing
sorrow to anybody, and I am sure I can soon gnaw this string to pieces.”
But the Cock was not to be so easily fooled. He soon roused the whole hen yard, and when
the Farmer came running out, that was the end of Mr. Fox.
The wicked deserve no aid.
This fable doesn’t suit the scene as well as I’d like, but it’s the best I could make out. It suggests
self-serving or wicked purposes, or one whose ambitions are at odds with your own. Add this to the
upset of the Five, and the conflict of the Swords, and we have one whose struggle has come to an
unhappy end, due in part to such attempts at deceit.

Six of Swords
The Six of Swords is yet another Minchiate card that depicts small scenes on the card in addition to
the pattern of suit elements. In this case, a gray creature that seems to be a cat stands on grass at the
bottom of the card, facing out quizzically toward the viewer.
At the top, between the uppermost pair of angled sword hilts (for the swords are in crossed pairs as
before in the lower numbers), is a banded globe with latitutinal and longitudinal lines demarcated.
The cat has been associated with the divine in Egyptian symbolism, with witchcraft and the devil
in the Middle Ages, and later with refinement, elegance and cozy domesticity during the Renaissance.
However, they still enjoyed a bit of an exotic reputation from the Egyptian connection. Above, the
globe reminds me of the armillary sphere that was popular at this time and before, a globe of celestial
trajectories. This is a symbol of refinement and the intellect, symbol of the great explorers of the time.
In the Minchiate the restored harmony of Six meets with the tension and conflict of the Six of
Swords. When combined with the added symbols of the exotic import of the cat, and the armillary
sphere of the explorer, we get a trip, uncertainty of travel to new and unfamiliar, exotic locales. It may
be unhappy, uncertain, a rout after a defeat, or nerves over breaking new trails. But uncertainty and
travel are suggested when this card comes up in a reading.

Seven of Swords
In the unornamented Seven of Swords, the whole of the card space is taken up by crossed swords,
six of them crossing in an X pattern; a seventh is thrust down through the centre of the mix.
Seven in numerology, as applied to cartomancy, is a further upset. Six had seen harmony and
balance reinstated; in the Seven it is upset again and usually results in conflict. When combined with
the unhappy conflict and bad news of the suit of Swords, symbol of the warrior class, it suggests
conflict that arises due to underhanded efforts.

Eight of Swords
The Eight of Swords is taken up almost entirely by eight criss-crossed swords, blades like rapiers
or duelling swords (long and narrow, coming to a sharp point), red and gold hilts at the top and the
blades angling downward. In the V shapes between the hilts at top and blade points at bottom are two
small figures. At the top is a small faun or satyr, pale and nude. He sits with his legs crossed on a red
platform and gazes at a disk held upright that appears to be a mirror in which he studies his own
reflection. Some versions, and some interpretations, suggest he is holding and reading a book, but I
believe it to be a mirror; the reason follows:
Satyrs are typically related to Pan in mythology as puckish and half-wild creatures, half man and
half goat, and are shown as typically drunk, randy or both. The mirror appears to hail back to the so-
called lost comedy Marsyas by Melanippides of Melos, in which the titular satyr Marsyas picked up an
instrument called the aulos that had been discarded by Athena. While learning to play it, Athena
noticed in the mirror how it puffed her cheeks out to blow into the instrument, and she cast it away to
be picked up by Marsyas. Chagrined at her foolish appearance, Athena cursed the aulos: any that
picked it up would meet with a terrible death. Marsyas met with this fate after he challenged Apollo to
a musical contest: aulos versus lyre. He lost, and was killed as a result.
At the bottom of the card, on green grass that extends across the frame, sits a hedgehog. The
hedgehog enjoyed a reputation in Rome of being intelligent. This was due to their noted habit in the
vineyards of knocking grapes off the vines and the rolling over onto them to spear them on their quills
to carry away.
To me, these scenes suggest two signs of the same coin: to foolishness in using tools for which one
is ill-equipped, and to resourcefulness in using the tools one has at hand. In numerology Eight is a
doubling of the stability of the Four, resulting in a stability that is excessive, that degenerates into
stagnation. Things are too stable to change, even for the good. In the suit of Swords, cards of conflict,
this suggests a stalemate. Too many factors that are in direct opposition to one another, that result in
being unable to move in either direction.

Nine of Swords
There are no pictures, scenes or figures depicted on the Nine. Rather we have only nine long and
thin sword blades crossed. Four to a side, hilts (red and gold in the Minchiate Fiorentine) uppermost
and blades angling down to criss-cross like the weave of a basket; the ninth sword points straight down
through the centre.
Nine is the number of penultimate achievement of the suit’s accomplishments. Being the tripling
of three, it can be a very good (thrice great, maybe?) or very bad card. In the case of the sharp and
conflictual weapons, the cutting edge of words that hurt, that are the suit of Swords, it can represent
deep wounds, usually mental, that take a long time to heal. This is a card of worries and woes, of a
time of deeply hurt feelings.

Ten of Swords
The Ten of Swords is as unadorned as the Nine before it, with only a single blade, shorter and
broader, more a broadsword than a rapier, laid horizontally behind the others, to differentiate it from the
Nine. Its hilt is gold to further distinguish it from the red and gold hilts of the other nine swords.
Numerological associations view the Tens of their respective suits to be the ultimate expression of
their suits’ energies. In the unhappy energies of conflict and hurt that a weapon such as a sword brings,
this makes me think of a decisive loss, a defeat or injury that is swift, final and almost total in nature.
In emotional matters it would represent absolute desolation.

Page of Swords
The Page of Swords is more heavily armoured than the Page of Staves, more a warrior. He wears a
more obvious breastplate, a centurion’s helmet topped with an impressive feathery plume. His tunic
under the breastplate ends in a short tunic and he has gladiator sandals on his feet. On one arm is
strapped a large round shield – his arm is turned so that we don’t see the face of the shield or whether it
is as blank as that of the Page of Staves or bears some sort of logo. The other arm is raised to hold a
short sword; his head is bent to one side as if otherwise his sword would knock his helmet off.
Otherwise, I can’t tell whether he’s truly poised for battle or a youth posing and playing soldier.
 Swords are the suit of the nobility, of the warrior class, and hence of conflict. As a Page is one
learning bearing a message or learning his trade, the suit’s energy is still in development. In a reading
this card can thus be interpreted as messages or messengers bearing bad news. Alternately, the conflict
of this suit is still developing, growing, and the Page here is learning statecraft and warcraft. Such an
individual will be energetic, aggressive, perhaps a smooth talker working to develop watchful waiting
like a spy. This card also suggests vigilance and a tendency to attract trouble.

Knight of Swords
The Knight of Swords is the most straightforward of the man-beast hybrids that comprise the
Knights of the Minchiate. He is a centaur in the most traditional or mythical sense, a rearing horse
below the waist, and a bare-chested man above. He is turned slightly as though turning to speak to a
rider on his back, and brandishes a short sword with a golden hilt over his head. The other arm holds a
large shield, like an elongated octagon.
It’s been suggested that the first ancient reference to a centaur is a response to a horse and rider as
first seen by a non-riding society. They were deemed to be untamed wild men, or as in the case of
Chiron, teachers and instructors.
In the Minchiate, the suit of Swords is associated with the war-making nobility, and with conflict
and tension. In the case of the Knight, as a young man who is prone to swift or hasty action,
development and travel, this could suggest running off half-cocked, flying into an argument or battle
without considering all of the factors before acting. Such a person will be bold and fearless, impulsive
and decisive.

Queen of Swords
In the Minchiate, I see the Queen of Swords as the most contemporary of the four Queens. Not
that her attire is so modern or up to date, but that it is not as Roman as her counterparts. Her gown, at
least in the Minchiate Fiorentine, appears actually to be a full skirt and blouse or shirtwaist. A wide
collar might be white fur, but I’m more inclined to see it as lace. She wears sandals and a gold crown,
and sits on a seat with a cushion and spindly legs and armrests.
Her sword is held in one hand and appears to lean against her upper arm as though cradled there.
With her free arm the Queen of Swords gestures outward, empty palm up, as if demonstrating honesty
and forthrightness in her dealings. Her face is quite serious; I sense she is negotiating.
Negotiating what? Queens represent the gestation of a matter, bringing it to bear and allowing it to
grow. And the suit of Swords is the suit of both logic and conflict. So in a reading this card could be
seen to represent the preliminary negotiations of peace: a truce, a pact, a surrender or cease-fire. This
could, of course, pertain to business, to relationships or to material matters and division of property,
depending on the nature of the question and surrounding cards. In such situations this Queen is a very
rational influence that is able to see all sides dispassionately.

King of Swords
The King of Swords appears watchful and uneasy. He sits bolt upright on a low-backed throne or
cushioned chair with high armrests, one elbow resting on the armrest and supporting a broadsword that
is held upright, resting slightly against his shoulder. The hilt that rests on his thigh is gold and
unadorned; this is a tool and a utilitarian sign of his authority. It’s not fancy because it doesn’t need to
be. The King is dressed, like his counterparts, in breastplate and Roman tunic, crown and cape and
sandals. Only his tense posture are wary sidelong gaze show his watchful side.
A King is a ruler: the strategist, the lawgiver, the figure of authority. In the case of the suit of
Swords this is particularly suited to military and government entities, and to strategies in business as
well as in warfare. Such an individual will be watchful and aloof, cold and rational. Decisions he
makes will not be swayed by emotion, but by what is the best outcome logistically. He’s not out to
show off, to have the prettiest armour or shiniest weaponry; he has might on his side and lets how he
uses it speak for itself rather than outer signs to dazzle or impress.

The Suit of Coins

The suit of Coins is the suit of the merchant and thus of material matters, of physical wealth and
security as well as the home and work. In the Minchiate the suit emblems are illustrated by simple gold
coins that bear, for the most part, human heads (the exceptions being the Ace and Nine of Coins).

Ace of Coins
The Ace of Coin is a large golden or brass coin that floats disembodied over a pastoral scene like
that in the elemental Earth trump: green grass and trees. In the Etruria is the corner of a country manor
house, which isn’t in place in the Fiorentine. A crown in the form of that of the Medici hovers over the
top, just as it did in the other three Aces.
The coin itself is interesting. In the Minchiate Fiorentine pattern the central theme is a large fleur
de lis, behind which a lion lies with head raised, like a dog seeking approval. The lion was a symbol of
Florence and the fleur de lis was a part of the Medici coat of arms. In the Etruria the coin is engraved
or stamped with two ancient Roman figures, presumably gods, over a brick wall or altar. They make
me think of gods making sacrifices over an altar, or possibly Vulcan at his smithy.
The suit of Coins represents practicalities of material matters – wealth, home and property, work –
and the Ace represents the initiatory energy of this suit’s qualities. As such, the Ace of Coins can
represent that first step toward wealth or security, often in the form of a gift or an inheritance. The
suggestion of the gods can lend a facet of tradition (hence the inheritance) and work that is needed to
forge this new path that will lead to prosperity.

Two of Coins
The Two of Coins in the Minchiate is a very simple card, with two coins arranged one above the
other. The topmost coin bears the profile of a bearded man, hale and hearty and with an expression in
between seriousness and smiling. The bottom coin is a woman, elegantly coiffed and apparently a
woman of means. She turns her head modestly to one side, but smiles still. They make me think of
star-crossed lovers, of a swain aspiring to a beautiful woman above his station, but only slightly, and of
she being shyly receptive.
Two is the number of duality and balance. But it is also a number of pairs, of harmony, of couples,
of halves of the same whole. In the suit of Coins, a suit preoccupied with money and all that it can buy
– including security, property and status – this suggests a balance or juggle of material priorities. But
the faces in the coins suggest something different to me. In a reading I might interpret the Two of
Coins as a harmonious partnership or romance in spite of economic or class boundaries.

Three of Coins
In the Minchiate Three of Coins, the three gold coins are arranged in a vertical row and the card is
otherwise completely unadorned. The top two coins show masculine heads (on the top a brush-plumed
helm of a Roman centurion, and in the centre a turban and curled mustache as if to illustrate his role as
a foreigner, an outsider). On the bottom coin is a feminine head of a matron with elaborately styled
hair. She gazes up and in profile as if studying the foreigner, whose head is turned only slightly to the
side. The centurion is in profile.
Threes in numerology represent a trinity, creation, birth of a third via union of two. In the practical
suit of Coins, this would thus represent a business venture that bears fruit, the first flush of success.
Work that is recognized and that promises further work and recognition. If we were to tell a story of
the three heads shown in the coins, it would be about new and potentally risky ventures. Very differing
parties must learn to work together and trust one another, to bring this venture to a successful
conclusion.

Four of Coins
The titular coins shown here in the Four of Coins are arranged in a square. They each bear the
head of a man, and none of them appear either attractive or very nice. All are in profile and have either
sizeable noses and malevolent expressions (top and bottom left), grotesquely round cheeks as if
swollen by toothache (bottom right), or simple expressions like the village idiot (top right). They make
me think of the miser so often depicted in the Rider Waite Tarot tradition on the equivalent card.
In the centre of the card is an elephant. Not necessarily a fully mature one, more like a calf, as
evidenced by the relative size of the warrior that rides on its back. He wears the sort of hat that is often
depicted on the head of Mercury (after the style of a pith helmet) and a quiver of arrows on his back.
One arrow, almost a spear, is in the warrior’s hand and he brandishes it as though using it to goad on
the elephant.
This beast had puzzled me in the past about this card. Elephants are mighty beasts of the earth,
powerful and used as symbols of wealth and status in some cultures. And this lends a nuance to the
interpretation of the card. But what was the source of this image, in pre-divinatory cardplay? Someone
online compared it to a very similar seventeenth-century engraving in a German book, illustrating
Hannibal’s army and its 218 BC invasion of Italy, in which they famously crossed the Alps with the aid
of elephants. This proved disastrous in the end, elephants being constitutionally ill-suited for the
mountain climes, but he advanced to occupy southern Italy. In the end, however, he was unable to
conquer Rome, which may be the reason this deck illustrates him as one of the pip card scenes.
Four is a number of solidity and stability. Hence the sure-footed elephant as the central image.
Combined with the mercantile tangibility of the suit of Coins, this card would be viewed as one of an
extremely solid foundation, earthly power and might, wealth on which to base a venture. But the
implied warning of Hannibal’s example and the avaricious or foolish faces on the coins carry a warning
as well, of the way that a base that is so material can lead.

Five of Coins
The Five of Coins is illustrated by coins that bear heads that are, uniquely, all female. The two in
the top row are gazing slightly off to one side, their faces worried. The two in the bottom row are seen
in profile, gazing to the viewer’s right. One is young and fair but slightly unhappy, the other middle
aged and somewhat dumpy but crowned with a wreath of laurel. And the one in the centre is in profile
looking left; there is a band around her brow, and she looks elderly and angry.
There are many unhappy expressions seen here, and nobody is looking out of the card full-on. It is
not a good first impression. In the material suit of Coins, interested in prosperity and finances and all
that entails, it suggests money woes and worries. When seen in the context of the upset balance of the
Five, it suggests a sudden and recent change in fortune (job loss, business failure, destruction of home)
that is the source of this great worry.

Six of Coins
Six coins in two vertical rows of three make up the scene in the Six of Coins, with no other scenic
illustrations. The faces on the coins are a mix of men and women, none of whom look very happy.
There’s the elegant young wife in the top row looks away and to the heavens, apparently saddened
by the words or actions of the man looking away unhappily; he looks like William Shakespeare.
In the middle a youth, little more than a child, appears troubled as the middle-aged housewife, his
long-suffering mother from the look of things, turns away.
And at the bottom two unattractive and angry men face off; one stares at the other accusingly but
the other appears to avoid eye contact.
 My understanding of this card’s scene is one of unhappy pairings, of dynamics between lovers,
parents and children, and friends. But what does this have to do with the interpretation of the Six of
Coins? Because I had always thought of the Six in Tarot and in Minchiate as a highly harmonious
balance. But here they aren’t. There seems to be the opposite, in fact. So I see it as instead a need to
return to balance, particularly as prosperity returns. Perhaps there is a need for prosperity or material
aid to restore balance. In this case, it may be called upon to offer this aid, or to accept aid.

Seven of Coins
The Seven of Coins in the Minchiate is illustrated by seven golden coins arranged in two triangles
– apex of the top one pointing up, apex of the bottom one pointing down – with a seventh coin in the
centre. The heads on the coins are a mix of women to men, three to four, all mature and sober looking.
It is as though they are caught up in the realization of just how serious the lesson of Seven in the Tarot
or Minchiate can be.
Because in the Sevens, the harmonious establishment of the suit’s energy that had been in such
balance in the Sixes, is thrown out of balance. This is the time in which a step back is needed to re-
evaluate the situation. Here, in the suit of Coins and its emphasis on material comfort, it can suggest an
assessment of a current state: how finances, investments, businesss ventures, seeds planted are doing,
and from there to determine what is the next step.

Eight of Coins
In the Minchiate deck’s Eight of Coins, there are three pairs of coins in which heads in profile face
one another, man to woman. These rows are separated by two individual coins in which heads face
slightly to the side of straight ahead. None of the faces look particularly happy.
As the doubling of the material stability and structure of Four, the Eight in numerology and the
Tarot represents an excess of stability. Things are almost too stable. But it is the best of foundations
that there can be for the suit of Coins, of such matieral matters as money, property and work. It is a
card of setting that foundation, of hard work and learning new skills.

Nine of Coins
Unlike the other Coins cards in the Minchiate, the Nine of Coins is shown adorned not with the
heads – in profile or otherwise – of people, but with nine unique birds. Inexperienced as I am in the
differences between types of birds, I am guesing that they are, from the top left corner and moving in a
clockwise spiral: a stork on the ground near a tree; a wren, sitting on a branch; a dove preening its wing
feathers; a sparrow sitting in a tree and using its beak to worry at the bark or insects thereon; a long-
necked pelican dipping its bill into a bowl or perhaps a shell; a bird with a crown; a goose standing on
the edge of a flat surface like a curbstone; a swan, beak nestling into its wing as if to sleep; and in the
centre an eagle on the edge of a rock.
Why birds? In Renaissance art symbolism, artwork was rife with birds as Christian or spiritual
symbols. It was after reading up on this that I reverse-engineered the birds on the cards to fit. From
the “king of the birds”, the wren that was part of a rather barbaric St. Stephen’s Day ritual, to the
charity of the pelican, the purity of the swan, the Holy Spirit of the dove and the eagle, symbol of St.
John the Evangelist, the souls of the dead of the finch and the sparrow ... it suggests to me the very
Christian concepts of love for one’s fellow man, of virtue and peace and doing unto others as you
would have done unto you.
Nine is the end of the cycle in the Tarot; in the materialistic suit of Coins, this suggests a sense of
physical completion, a sense of satisfaction of that which has been accomplished in terms of home,
property, money, career and status. Now is time to turn one’s focus to the spiritual, to find a higher
purpose than mere physical comfort.
Ten of Coins
The ten coins in the Minchiate version of this card bear stamped heads of members of various
classes of Roman society: centurions and gladiators, scholars and patricians and maidens and matrons.
The faces of almost all are serious, sometimes worried or stern. Warrior and philosopher, young and
old, they make me think of a multi-generational family tree.
Ten in the Tarot and the Minchiate is the jumping-off point at which one cycle is ended and a new
one begins. This number is essentially a landing point, the middle point at which a cycle rounds back
to the beginning, or transitions smoothly to a new one. In the suit of Coins, cards of the merchant class
and hence of money and property and material prosperity, this suggests to me the handing down from
one generation to another: an inheritance, an heirloom, a family home or undertaking, a fortune. In a
reading this may represent handing something, even knowledge, secrets, recipes, traditions, to the new
generation; on the other side of the coin it may mean receiving something of this sort from a parent or
mentor.

Handmaid of Coins
The young girl on this card is shown in the process of walking forward, a snapshot of time caught
in midstep. She wears a wreath of laurel in her hair, a cape behind her dress that she holds the end of in
one hand, and sandals on her feet. She holds a large gold coin in both hands, holding it upright by the
rim as though a game-show hostess displaying a prize.
The feminine Handmaids are a gentler form of the masculine Pages. In this case, as a young girl
learning the lessons of her suit’s energy, as a passive bearer or deliverer of the lessons and messages,
she represents news of material prosperity, messages of property, money, jobs or perhaps inheritance.
Such a person as represented by the Handmaid of Coins is quiet and hardworking and on the way
to achieving or helping others to achieve material comfort. Alternately, she may be the beginning of an
improvement in material fortunes, and development in a positive direction.
In a reading, the Handmaid of Coins would thus represent messages regarding property, work or
financial matters. Alternately, she could be one who is learning about such things, such as a student of
finance or property or the law as related to such matters. Such a person may be immature, with their
personality still in development. Or they may manifest as people who will help you with your own
concerns of finances and prosperity.

Knight of Coins
The Knight of Coins is a downcast, thoughtful, melancholy sort of a man. The only one of the four
Minchiate Knights to be completely clean-shaven, he looks young and uncomfortable in his position.
He looks down at the ground, and holds a gold coin the size of a serving platter or ceremonial shield up
behind and off-centre to his head as though a full moon rising behind him, not a centered halo. The
coin has the profile of a smiling young woman peering from behind his head.
Like the other Knights in this deck, the Knight of Coins is bare-chested above the waist, and a
beast below. In this case, the beast is a lion, without wings, scales or any of the other idiosyncrasies of
the Knight of Cups’ sphinx. The lion rests on its haunches, front legs fully extended like a dog obeying
a command to “Sit!” His waist is girdled about with grape leaves.
The sphinx of ancient Egypt was a plain lion-bodied hybrid like him. The Egyptian sphinx was
often found at the entrances of temples, and so came to be viewed as guardians of the sacred mysteries
and treasures. In this case here, he can be seen as the protector, the keeper of the family treasure.
Knights are young men; their energy, or that of their respective suit, is fresh and strong. In the suit
of Coins, with their mercantile basis, this energy is of the low-risk variety that is cautious and overly
concerned with security. Of the swift-moving Knights, symbols of activity and motion, he is the
slowest. Note how he holds the coin; as if he literally shoulders a heavy burden. The grape leaves
make me think of the hard work of the farmer tending his vineyards, not afraid to get his hands dirty.
 In a reading this card will likely be about travel for work, protecting your monetary assets and a
need for caution in financial matters. As a person, such a young man will be hardworking and
dependable, but cautious, ponderous and slow.

Queen of Coins
The Queen of Coins is the richest-attired woman in the deck, certainly in the Minchiate Fiorentine
version. She wears a long golden-yellow gown with bell sleeves, over which is layered a royal blue
outer gown for warmth or modesty. And over this is a red cape that falls to the floor behind her and is
trimmed in ermine at the collar. She wears a golden crown simply over her unbound hair, and sandals
on her feet as though for indoor pursuits, not tramping the earth.
She stands half-leaning on a gray stone or marble plinth, carved with the symbol of a bow and
arrow (for Cupid, perhaps; the way the arrow angles away from her suggests she engenders love and
admiration from those around her, without necessarily falling victim to it herself). One foot rests on its
base, and she rests a large gold coin against the top and supports it with one hand. The coin has a head
of a man with short hair engraved upon it. She supports it and a slender golden sceptre with one hand
and gestures toward it with her free hand as if showing it to somebody.
To me, the Queen of Coins shown here is a woman who is fond of luxury and comfort. She enjoys
creating an atmosphere of opulence, of material security and stability, and is not afraid to work to
achieve it. Her luxuries are not tenuous or faddish, but sustained and built on a sturdy foundation.
Queens are the very basis by which the suit’s energies are nurtured and developed, and so she is the one
who creates this comfortable and stable environment for her family and loved ones to enjoy.

King of Coins
The King of Coins is a bearded man, hale and hearty middle age from the look of him. He wears
Roman attire: gold sandals, short tunic and armoured breastplate covered by a voluminous cloak or
cape. His crown is gold, and his armour appears to strain over a bit of a paunch – a prosperous and
well-fed man.
He sits on a low bench with one hand resting on the armrest; with the other he holds up a gold coin
the size of a dinner plate. It shows the graven profile of a man from an apparently different era, with
hair tied back, like a figure from the eighteenth century. However, the King doesn’t appear overly
concerned about it, but rather looks away as if something offscreen has more interest to him. Such
wealth is nothing new to him, but he takes it for granted.
In a reading, Kings are the rulers, the authority figures. They might represent a father, a boss, a
corporate structure or government. In the materialistic suit of Coins, this might refer to one’s employer
or banker, matters to do with work and money. Such matters will be shrewdly handled and justly
administered. Stolid and practical though he might be, he is a man of ideas to adapt to changing
demands, the anachronistic man on the coin suggests that the King of Coins is a man ahead of his time.
He is a lover of comfort and luxury, who cares not so much for the trappings of responsibility and
authority, save for the comforts it affords him.