Here's a fact that surprises almost everyone: tarot cards were invented for playing games, not telling fortunes.
No mystics. No ancient Egyptian secrets. No shadowy occult orders. Just a bunch of Italian aristocrats in the 1400s who wanted a fancier card game to play after dinner. The fortune-telling part? That didn't show up for another three hundred years — and when it did, it was basically because one very creative Frenchman made the whole thing up.
The real history of tarot is wilder, messier, and far more entertaining than the mystical origin story most people assume. It involves Renaissance dukes commissioning hand-painted luxury cards, French intellectuals inventing fake Egyptian connections, a secret society that literally changed magic forever, and a broke English artist whose illustrations became the most recognized images in the history of divination.
Let's start at the beginning.
Act I: Rich Italians and Their Fancy Card Games (1440s)
Playing cards arrived in Europe from the Islamic world sometime in the late 1300s. By the early 1400s, they were everywhere — every tavern, every court, every bored merchant's back room. The standard deck had four suits (swords, cups, coins, and batons — sound familiar?) and numbered cards with court cards. Basically what we'd now call the Minor Arcana.
But here's the thing about rich people: they always want something extra.
Around 1440, in the courts of Milan and Ferrara in northern Italy, someone came up with a brilliant idea: take the standard card deck and add a set of illustrated "triumph" cards — trionfi in Italian — that could trump the other suits. These extra cards depicted allegorical figures: the Pope, the Emperor, the Wheel of Fortune, Death, the Moon, the Sun. Twenty-two of them, to be exact.
Ring any bells? These trionfi are what we now call the Major Arcana.
The game they played was called tarocchi (which is where the word "tarot" comes from), and it was essentially an elaborate trick-taking game — think Bridge, but with a permanent trump suit featuring the Devil and the Hanged Man. The nobility commissioned artists to paint these cards by hand on gilded cardstock. The most famous surviving set, the Visconti-Sforza deck (circa 1450), was created for the Duke of Milan's family and features stunning gold-leaf illustrations that still take your breath away 575 years later.
Here's the important thing: for the first three centuries of their existence, tarot cards had absolutely nothing to do with fortune-telling. They were game pieces. Expensive, beautiful game pieces — but game pieces nonetheless.
Nobody was laying out spreads. Nobody was asking about their love life. The Fool wasn't a symbol of new beginnings — it was the joker, a wild card in a trick-taking game. The Death card didn't represent transformation — it just meant you could trump someone's King of Cups.
The game spread across Italy, into France (where it became tarot), and eventually across Europe. For roughly three hundred years, that's all tarot was: an Italian card game that got popular.
And then along came the French.
Act II: The French Mystics Who Changed Everything (1780s)
The Enlightenment was a funny time. On one hand, reason and science were reshaping European thought. On the other hand, there was a massive counter-movement of people fascinated by mysticism, ancient wisdom, and all things occult. In this fertile contradictory soil, tarot's mystical career was born.
In 1781, a French clergyman and Freemason named Antoine Court de Gébelin published a book called Le Monde Primitif. In it, he made a claim that would change the trajectory of tarot forever:
Tarot cards were actually the secret wisdom of ancient Egypt, encoded in card form by Egyptian priests to preserve their knowledge from destruction.
It was complete nonsense. There was zero evidence for it. Court de Gébelin couldn't read Egyptian hieroglyphics (nobody could at that time — the Rosetta Stone wouldn't be decoded for another 40 years). He essentially looked at the imagery on tarot cards, noticed some vaguely Egyptian-looking stuff, and constructed an elaborate theory around it.
But people loved it.
The timing was perfect. Europe was in the grip of "Egyptomania" — a cultural obsession with ancient Egypt that would only intensify after Napoleon's Egyptian campaign in 1798. The idea that tarot cards held ancient wisdom was romantic, exotic, and irresistible. Nobody wanted to hear that they were just Italian playing cards.
Hot on Court de Gébelin's heels came Jean-Baptiste Alliette, a French occultist who went by the reverse of his surname: Etteilla. Around 1785, Etteilla became the first person in recorded history to make a living as a professional tarot card reader. He published detailed systems for using tarot cards for divination, created spreads, assigned divinatory meanings to each card, and essentially invented tarot reading as we know it.
Think about that for a moment. Every tarot reader who has ever lived — every spread you've ever seen, every "what does this card mean?" you've ever asked — can trace their practice back to a single French guy in the 1780s who took an Italian card game and said, "actually, this is for fortune-telling now."
The entire tradition of tarot divination was essentially invented in one generation, by people who genuinely believed (or at least claimed) they were recovering ancient knowledge rather than creating new practices.
Act III: Secret Societies and the Golden Dawn (1880s)
If the French occultists planted the seed, the Victorian-era secret societies grew it into a forest.
The late 1800s saw an explosion of esoteric organizations across Europe, but none was more influential than the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, founded in London in 1888. The Golden Dawn was a secret magical society whose members included the poet W.B. Yeats, the actress Florence Farr, and (most notoriously) the occultist Aleister Crowley.
The Golden Dawn took tarot and supercharged it. Their members created elaborate systems connecting tarot cards to:
- Astrology — each Major Arcana card was assigned a zodiac sign or planet
- Kabbalah — the 22 Major Arcana were mapped onto the 22 paths of the Tree of Life
- Numerology — the numbered cards gained deep numerical significance
- Elemental magic — the four suits were linked to fire, water, air, and earth
Before the Golden Dawn, tarot was a divination tool with some mystical flavor. After the Golden Dawn, it was an entire system — a symbolic framework that could connect to virtually every Western esoteric tradition. This is why modern tarot feels so rich, so layered, so deep. The depth didn't come from ancient Egypt. It came from a group of brilliant Victorian occultists who built it, brick by brick.
The Golden Dawn also practiced ritual magic (yes, really), and tarot cards played a role in their ceremonies. Members were required to create their own personal tarot decks as part of their magical training. Two of those members would go on to create the two most influential tarot decks in history.
Act IV: The Deck That Changed Everything (1909)
In 1909, a Golden Dawn member named Arthur Edward Waite partnered with artist Pamela Colman Smith to create a new tarot deck. It would become the most important deck in the history of tarot — by a mile.
Pamela Colman Smith (often called "Pixie" by her friends) was a fascinating person: a biracial, bisexual, working-class artist and storyteller in Edwardian London. She was also a member of the Golden Dawn and a gifted visual artist with a talent for translating abstract concepts into compelling images.
Waite provided the symbolic framework — drawing on Golden Dawn teachings, Kabbalistic correspondences, and his own extensive research. Smith did something no tarot artist had done before: she illustrated every single card with a full scenic image, including all 56 Minor Arcana cards.
This was revolutionary. Previously, the numbered Minor Arcana cards were just geometric arrangements of suit symbols — four cups in a row, seven swords in a pattern. Boring. Smith painted scenes: a woman blindfolded between two swords, a man walking away from eight stacked cups, a figure lying face-down with ten swords in their back. Each image told a story.
This single innovation — illustrating every card — is arguably the reason tarot became so popular as a divination tool. Suddenly, you didn't need years of study to read a card. You could look at it and intuitively understand something. The Three of Swords shows a heart pierced by three blades — you don't need a book to know that means heartbreak. The Ten of Cups shows a joyful family under a rainbow — the meaning is right there.
The deck was published by Rider & Company (hence "Rider-Waite" or "Rider-Waite-Smith"), and despite being one of hundreds of tarot decks created over the centuries, it became the tarot deck. Its imagery is so dominant that when most people picture a tarot card, they're picturing Smith's illustrations.
Pamela Colman Smith was paid a flat fee for her work — reportedly around five pounds (roughly $800 today) — and received no royalties. She never gained recognition in her lifetime for creating what would become the most reproduced artwork in the history of divination. She died in 1951 in poverty and obscurity. Her contributions weren't widely acknowledged until the 21st century.
Act V: From the Counterculture to Your Phone (1960s–Today)
For the first half of the 20th century, tarot remained a niche interest — something practiced in occult circles and fortune-telling parlors, viewed with suspicion by mainstream society. Then came the 1960s.
The counterculture movement embraced tarot with open arms. It fit perfectly into the era's rejection of conventional religion and its hunger for alternative spirituality. Tarot was mystical but personal, structured but open to interpretation, ancient-seeming but accessible. It was the perfect tool for a generation that wanted to explore consciousness without going to church.
The 1970s brought mass-market tarot. US Games Systems began publishing affordable editions of the Rider-Waite deck, making it available in every bookshop and head shop in America. Sales exploded. New decks proliferated — feminist decks, nature-themed decks, abstract art decks, cat decks (yes, really).
The New Age movement of the 1980s and 90s further mainstreamed tarot. It shifted from being a "fortune-telling" tool to a "self-discovery" tool — less about predicting the future and more about understanding yourself. Therapists and counselors began incorporating tarot into their practice. Books reframed the cards as psychological archetypes rather than mystical predictions.
And then came the internet.
The digital age has done something remarkable: it has made tarot more popular than at any point in its 600-year history. Apps, AI tarot websites such as TaroTown, social media accounts dedicated to daily card pulls, YouTube channels with millions of subscribers doing tarot readings — the practice has exploded beyond anything the French occultists or the Golden Dawn could have imagined.
Today, tarot is a multi-billion-dollar industry. There are thousands of deck designs, from traditional to wildly experimental. People use tarot for self-reflection, creative inspiration, decision-making, therapeutic processing, and yes — still for fortune-telling. The cards have proven remarkably adaptable, carrying different meanings for different eras while maintaining their core symbolic power.
The Thread That Connects It All
Here's what I find fascinating about tarot's history: at every major turning point, someone looked at these cards and saw more than what they were.
Italian aristocrats saw more than a card game — they saw an opportunity for artistic expression and intellectual play. French mystics saw more than Italian playing cards — they saw (or imagined) the wisdom of ancient civilizations. The Golden Dawn saw more than a divination tool — they saw a complete map of human consciousness. Pamela Colman Smith saw more than symbolic diagrams — she saw stories waiting to be illustrated. And modern practitioners see more than historical artifacts — they see mirrors for self-understanding.
That's the real magic of tarot. Not the cards themselves, but the human impulse to find meaning in symbols — to look at an image and feel it speaking to something deep and wordless inside you. That impulse is the same whether you're a Duke of Milan playing tarocchi in 1450 or someone pulling a random card on their phone today.
The cards haven't changed that much in 600 years. We have.
Curious to experience the tradition that spans six centuries? Draw your own random tarot card and see what speaks to you — no Egyptian mysteries required.