Death

  • Arcana Major
  • Number XIII
  • Figure on this site Ragnarök's approach
Historical evidence

In the earliest decks

Tarot began in northern Italy in the fifteenth century as a card game, first called trionfi (triumphs), and Death was one of its picture trumps. The historian Michael Dummett sorted the old Italian orders of the trumps into three families, centred on Bologna, Ferrara and Milan. In the Ferrara and Milan orders Death, La Morte, is the thirteenth trump, and in all three it comes straight after the Hanged Man (in Bologna called the Traitor). In Milan, Temperance follows it; in Bologna and Ferrara, the Devil. The earliest surviving list of the trumps, in a Latin sermon against gambling written in Italy in the second half of the fifteenth century (the Steele manuscript, now at Vanderbilt University), follows the Ferrara type.

Hand-painted cards made for the Milanese court in the mid-fifteenth century, the Visconti and Visconti-Sforza decks, include a Death card. There Death is a skeleton with a bow and arrow, and the arrow was a common sign of plague in the art of the time. Other early cards, such as the so-called Charles VI cards in Paris and the Rosenwald sheet in Washington, show the more usual fifteenth-century picture: Death on horseback, riding down people of every rank, an image that goes back to the pale horse of Revelation 6:8.

In the Tarot de Marseille, the French pattern that grew from the Milanese tradition in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the card is numbered XIII but usually left without a title. Death walks on foot with a scythe among cut-off heads and hands.

Historical evidence

The Rider-Waite-Smith card

The card most people know today was drawn by Pamela Colman Smith to A. E. Waite’s instructions and published by William Rider & Son in London in December 1909. Smith brought back the horseman, which had almost vanished from tarot outside Italy after the fifteenth century. A skeleton in black armour rides a white horse and carries a black banner with a white rose. A king lies fallen under the hooves, a bishop stands before the rider with his hands joined, and a young woman and a child sink in front of him. In the distance the sun rises between two towers.

Waite himself, in his book on the deck, called the reaping skeleton a “crude notion” and preferred a vision from Revelation. He named the rose on the banner the Mystic Rose; some later readers see in it the white rose of York. The armoured rider has also been compared with Albrecht Dürer’s prints, but that is a modern suggestion, not something Waite or Smith said.

Myth and literature · Quotation

Waite’s description

The veil or mask of life is perpetuated in change, transformation and passage from lower to higher, and this is more fitly represented in the rectified Tarot by one of the apocalyptic visions than by the crude notion of the reaping skeleton. Behind it lies the whole world of ascent in the spirit. The mysterious horseman moves slowly, bearing a black banner emblazoned with the Mystic Rose, which signifies life. Between two pillars on the verge of the horizon there shines the sun of immortality. The horseman carries no visible weapon, but king and child and maiden fall before him, while a prelate with clasped hands awaits his end. […] The existing occult explanations of the 13th card are, on the whole, better than usual, rebirth, creation, destination, renewal, and the rest.

Myth and literature · Context

Later meanings

These links are later additions, not part of the Italian game. In 1781 Antoine Court de Gébelin, in volume VIII of Le Monde primitif, claimed the tarot came from ancient Egypt, a theory with no historical support; in the same volume the Comte de Mellet first called the tarot the Book of Thoth. In Court de Gébelin’s list the card is simply Death, and the cartomancer Etteilla named it Mortality or Nothingness.

In the nineteenth century Éliphas Lévi paired the trumps with the letters of the Hebrew alphabet in their traditional order, which by that count gives the thirteenth card the letter Mem. The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, founded in England in 1888, started its count with the Fool instead, so Death received the letter Nun and, through Nun’s place among the twelve “simple” letters of the Sefer Yetzirah, the zodiac sign Scorpio.

Modern interpretation

As read on this site

This is the meaning used for readings here. Using the tarot to divine is a modern practice, and the Norse figure shown for each card is this site’s own association; the tarot began as an Italian card game. A short history is on the Tarot page.

Upright

Keywords: transformation, necessary ending, clearing the old, renewal through loss

Ragnarök isn't only catastrophe; it's also renewal, the clearing of an old order to make room for whatever comes after. This card marks an ending that's necessary rather than cruel — a structure, relationship, or identity that's run its course and needs to be allowed to fall, without forcing it to outlive its usefulness through sheer nostalgia. What follows the fall is genuinely new. Let the old hall burn; something else gets built on the ground it clears.

In general: Something needs to end in order for the next thing to begin. Resisting the ending only delays the renewal.

In love: A relationship or relationship pattern that's reached its natural conclusion. Mourning it doesn't require fighting it.

In work: A role, project, or way of working that's completed its purpose. Closing it cleanly opens space for what's actually next.

Reversed

Keywords: fear of change, catastrophic thinking, resistance to necessary endings, avoidance

Fear of change can freeze a transformation that genuinely wants to happen, leaving you suspended between an ending you're avoiding and a beginning you can't reach because of it. The reversed reckoning isn't the disaster itself; it's the catastrophizing that makes an ordinary, survivable change feel like the end of everything. Most endings are smaller and more survivable than they feel in the moment just before them.

In general: A manageable change is being treated like a crisis. The fear is bigger than the actual stakes.

In love: Avoiding a needed conversation or ending because it feels unbearable, when in reality it's just difficult, which is a smaller thing.

In work: Refusing to close out a finished chapter, project, or role because the unknown after it feels more frightening than the stagnation does.

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