Plan grada beograda sa prevozom

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Le coin de chair visible chez l’homme, et sur lequel s’appuie le chien, est la partie la plus basse de lui-même, la partie restée animale en lui. Elle est nue, parce que malgré les habits qu’il s’est créés au cours de l’évolution, il ne peut s’en détacher. Le chien signifie également un reste des erreurs du passé qui trouble l’homme dans sa marche en avant. Ce chien symbolise encore un plan de vie inférieur qui tend à s’élever et à suivre l’homme; de même que l’homme s’est élevé au-dessus du plan animal, celui-ci ne devant pas oublier qu’en marchant vers son évolution, sa chute l’a ramené au rang de l’animalité et que dans sa marche il doit faire évoluer autour de lui les créatures inférieures.

In order to understand the third paragraph of Marteau’s Particularités Analogiques, we have to place his card within the historical context of Tarot de Marseille tradition, which starts with the 1639 deck attributed to Philippe Vachier, the earliest known TdM. Vachier’s Le Fol is depicted as the quintessential wanderer, with his bindle hanging off the end of a staff balanced over his shoulder and trekking pole in his right hand. He is out in the open, journeying we-know-not-where, dressed in the motley and floppy crown of a court jester; his face and hands are white – absent of color – which matches the broad white stripe below his golden belt. His face and hands are an even whiter shade of non-color than the featureless backdrop, but interestingly, his leggings and long sleeves are flesh-colored. Behind him is an animal which some recognize as a dog, others a cat; Marteau identifies it as a dog, so that is how I will also refer to it from this point forward. It appears the dog is reaching at a rent in Le Fol’s hose: perhaps it is responsible for shredding the leggings, or perhaps the tear was already present and caught the dog’s attention; we cannot say for certain. Nor do we know what the relationship between Le Fol and the dog is: it may be the dog is a companion on the road, or it may be that, as some have suggested, the dog is chasing a stranger away. In either case, Le Fol’s expression suggests that he is either unaware or unconcerned; his eyes are raised toward some distant horizon only he can see.
What is most intriguing, however, is that beneath the flesh-colored hose is dark green under-hose; what is revealed, then, is not the man beneath the costume but more of the costume. We cannot know for certain what Vachier was thinking when he elected to portray Le Fol in this way, but we can hypothesize from more general patterns.
Typically, clothing symbolizes persona, the person as presented rather than the person as is. An individual covers himself in a persona to fit into a collective social structure and identify what role he plays in said structure, but typically also, when we tear away the constructed outer layer, we find the individual within, which would be represented by his flesh. A common dream motif for many people is discovering that they are naked, “exposed.” This not only separates them from those around them (who are all fully clothed) but makes them vulnerable to judgments. Another function of the persona is it protects us from being seen, preventing others from observing those bits of us we do not want them to see because they embarrass us or because they are the aspects of us most sensitive to criticism and other attacks.
A few years after Vachier, a cardmaker working out of Paris, Jean Noblet, marketed a deck in which the most iconic image featured a similarly clad figure also named Le Fol but whose leggings were torn to a far greater degree, revealing underneath not only fleshy buttocks but fully exposed genitalia as well. Again, unfortunately, we cannot know what message, if any, Noblet meant to convey with his ribald depiction; however, we can note another striking difference between these two cards: while the Vachier figure’s flesh is white, Noblet’s is ruddy with blood and human warmth, except for his hands, which retain the strikingly bloodless white coloring consistent with the Vachier.
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Ensuing cardmakers in what became the Tarot de Marseille style mostly elected to follow the Vachier model. There were a few exceptions that did not go as far as Noblet but did show naked flesh-colored flesh under the rent hose; however, they were a decided minority until Paul Marteau released his deck in 1930 and introduced a kind of revival in this presentation.
Marteau did not break with tradition in this matter arbitrarily; his commentary makes evident that he thought deeply about the meaning of every detail, and we might have hoped that, being an expert in Tarot de Marseille symbolism, he would have compared and contrasted his deck with historical counterparts, meticulously explaining how the choices he made brought the cards into alignment with his philosophy. This, however, was never really an option, as Marteau promoted his deck as a faithful reproduction of the one published by Nicolas Conver in 1761, a master cardmaker in Marseille who, himself, “preserved the woods and colors of his remote predecessors” – a fiction that enabled Marteau to market his own work as the “Ancien Tarot de Marseille”; thus, any discussion of changes he made would only have served to undercut that claim.[[i]](#_edn1)
Marteau opens the third paragraph of his Particularités Analogiques writing that the visible region of flesh (“Le coin de chair visible”) represents man’s basest aspect, the part of him that remained animal (“est la partie la plus basse de lui-même, la partie restée animale en lui”).
Marteau’s premise is that Le Mat is on an evolutionary journey; his clothing typifies the collective aspect of that evolution, as it is the most obvious outward symbol of how man has risen from a purely instinctive and unconscious mode of being into a state of expanded awareness, not only of himself but his role within a social collective. When this is torn away, a far more primal and universal truth is revealed, one which has been increasingly concealed under layers of acculturation; it is the part of us that cannot be refined through education or social status and, thus, remains the source of our most profound shame, yet this is where the dog is able to make contact. In this paragraph, Marteau not only explains the nature of this contact but its wider significance.
My attempts at translation differ from those of Kitos Digiovanni, who writes that the dog “nips” at the “lowest part of him,” [[ii]](#_edn2) and Marius Høgnesen’s, who writes that “the dog hassles … the lowest part of man, the part representing the animal, that remains in him.” [[iii]](#_edn3) Both Digiovanni and Høgnesen characterize the nature of this contact as active, if not aggressive, and that coincides with what seems to be popular consensus. The respected tarot scholar Robert M. Place writes, “In the Tarot of Marseilles.... The seat of the Fool’s pants is being torn by a dog. This is meant to be comical, but it also signifies that the dog is treating him as a stranger, an assumption that is further supported by the fact that he is carrying a bag of belongings on his shoulder. The early Franciscans, who wandered through the countryside preaching and begging, found that they were treated with suspicion at first, and, like our Fool, they had to fend off the attacks of dogs.” [[iv]](#_edn4)
It is not my intention to argue whether this is a correct or incorrect interpretation of the image; tarot cards reflect the psychological motifs through which we view and make sense of the outer world. They help us to become more self-aware; thus, there are no right or wrong answers any more than there are correct or incorrect responses to picture interpretation or inkblot tests. My only concern is what Paul Marteau meant when he wrote, “sur lequel s’appuie le chien.”
“Le chien” is dog; “sur lequel” is the equivalent of “on which.” The key to comprehending Marteau’s interpretation of the image resides in how we translate “s’appuie,” which I understand to come from the infinitive “appuyer” and means “to press,” “to push,” or “to lean,” according to the Collins dictionary translator. This coincides with the Google, Reverso, and Bing translators as well, which also add “to support” to the list. Thus, the dog is not attacking and driving off an unwelcome stranger, nor is it tearing at Le Mat’s hose; the contact is less aggressive.
“S’appuie” is the reflexive form of the infinitive; therefore, it would mean “the dog leans itself” or “presses itself” upon the visible region of flesh; I translate it as “supports itself,” and render the first sentence, “The visible region of flesh in man, on which the dog supports itself, represents his [man’s] basest aspect, the part of him that remained animal.”
The commentary continues, “It is bare because despite the habiliments he has created for himself throughout the course of his evolution, he cannot deny it. The dog also represents a vestige of past failures that disconcert man in his forward march.” (Elle est nue, parce que malgré les habits qu’il s’est créés au cours de l’évolution, il ne peut s’en détacher. Le chien signifie également un reste des erreurs du passé qui trouble l’homme dans sa marche en avant.)
Marteau suggests Le Mat is looking forward rather than paying attention to the dog trailing him because the presence of the dog is an unwanted reminder of his failings and the fundamental nature that he would prefer to shed. In this sense, the dog is like the bindle, which contains man’s collective inheritance resulting from the Fall into carnal existence: it is attached by fixed rings to the staff he carries to prevent Le Mat from removing it and freeing himself of its weight. We may refer to ourselves as individuals and adhere to the mythology that we are singular, but this arcanum reminds us our lives are burdened by the accumulated history and transgressions of all mankind.
Finally, Marteau writes, “This dog furthermore symbolizes an inferior stage of life that tends to lift itself up and follow man; just as man raised himself above the animal plane, he must not forget while advancing toward his evolution his fall brought him back to a primeval state, and in his march he must inspire the lower creatures to evolve around him.” (Ce chien symbolise encore un plan de vie inférieur qui tend à s’élever et à suivre l’homme; de même que l’homme s’est élevé au-dessus du plan animal, celui-ci ne devant pas oublier qu’en marchant vers son évolution, sa chute l’a ramené au rang de l’animalité et que dans sa marche il doit faire évoluer autour de lui les créatures inférieures).
The dog is a less-evolved animal, yet it too feels the call to advance; it cannot accomplish this alone. Le Mat’s evolutionary march is not solely for his benefit; he has a responsibility to all living things, for he also arose from a primitive state, and just as he is inspired to become something more, he must engender this same inspiration in others.

My translation: The visible region of flesh in man, on which the dog supports itself, represents his [man’s] basest aspect, the part of him that remained animal. It is bare because despite the habiliments he has created for himself throughout the course of his evolution, he cannot deny it. The dog also represents a vestige of past failures that disconcert man in his forward march. This dog furthermore symbolizes an inferior stage of life that tends to lift itself up and follow man; just as man raised himself above the animal plane, he must not forget while advancing toward his evolution his fall brought him back to a primeval state, and in his march he must inspire the lower creatures to evolve around him.
[[i]](#_ednref1)Marteau, Paul. Le Tarot de Marseille. Arts et Métiers Graphiques, Paris, 1948. Imprimé en Suisse 1984. The quote comes from the “Introduction.”
[[ii]](#_ednref2)Kitos Digiovanni’s blog https://smallcabin.org/le-tarot-de-marseilles-by-paul-marteau/
[[iii]](#_ednref3)Paul Marteau. Tarot de Marseille. Trans. Marius Høgnesen. Published by circleandtriangle, 2021.
[[iv]](#_ednref4)Place, Robert M. Tarot: History, Symbolism, and Divination. New York: Jeremy P. TarchePenguin, 2005.