Tarot History Forum

quote=mikeh post_id=27323 time=1749642377 user_id=226]

Unam volo tibi Gaspar cuntare novellarli
Que te forte magno faciet pisare de risu
Quidam vercellis stat ala porta botigliono
Omnes qui sessiam facit pagare passantes
Et si quis ter forte passaret in uno
Ter pagare facit: ...

(I want to tell you, Gaspar, a story
Which will probably make you laugh a lot
one who at Vercillis is [?] at the gate, the botigliono [?]
Makes everyone pay passing the Sesia {?}
And if someone passes three times in one
Makes them pay three times:)

Pisare is I think to piss - so piss yourself a lot from laughing:
botogliono = an inn, tavern or hostelry - so a man in Vercelli stands a t the door of a tavern;
he charges passers-by who want to take a piss, and they have to pay each time, if you want to go three times, you pay three times

...
Non invenies quisquam poltronior ilio
Non habet hic viduis respectum riec maritatis
Sed neque pedonibus: nec cavalcantibus : omnes
Menat ad ingualum sicut lasagnia natalis :

(You will not find anyone more arrogant than he.
He has no respect for widows or married people.
But neither for pedestrians nor for those who ride horses.
He leads all to the abyss like a Christmas lasagna.)

You will not find any greater scoundrel than he.... he treats everyone the same...he grabs them by the throat like Chistmas lasagne (like overcooked pasta sticks in the throat)

Quis poltronus ego? tu. mi? si. deh ruffiane
Erat mecum mea socrus unde putana
Quod foret una sibi pensebat ille tarochus;
Et cito ni solvam mihi menazare comenzat.

From Google Translate plus Wiktionary I get various things:

Who is a poltroon [coward], I? You. Me? Yes. Oh, you ruffian
My mother-in-law was with me, where the whore was [or: where did she go]
That there would be one for herself [or: that she would be one for him], thought that tarochus;
And quickly, if I did not pay, he commenced to threaten me.

Who is the scoundrel/bastard, I you, me?.. His mother in law was with him (the narrator), and that fool / letch (tarochus) thought she was a whore, and there for him!

Here's the Grok 3 translation. Large Language Models will make us all lazy, but I've got too much else to do to fight with macaronic verse.

It translates our lines as:

"“Who’s the coward? Me?” “Yes, you, you pimp!”
My mother-in-law was with me, that whore,
And that rogue thought she’d be another toll to collect.
He started threatening me if I didn’t pay quick."

It's a funny story. If medieval humour is to your taste.

Translation:

To the magnificent lord Gaspar Visconti, concerning a villainy done to me, Bassano of Mantua, by a certain Botigliono of Savoy at Vercelli, and concerning a pleasantry that I, Bassano, performed against this Botigliono.

I want to tell you, Gaspar, a little tale,
Which might make you burst with great laughter.
At Vercelli, there stands by the gate a Botigliono,
Who makes all passersby pay a toll.
And if someone happens to pass by three times,
He makes them pay thrice: so frequent trips
Would need a doctor’s purse to afford the cost!
This fellow always struts before his shop,
Swaying his hips proudly this way and that,
As if he were, from Modena, that Pota
Who’s said to have sown beans from horseback.
But if you sought someone swaggering up and down,
You’d find no greater coward than this one.
He spares neither widows nor married women,
Nor foot travelers, nor horsemen: all
He drags by the groin like Christmas lasagna.
He doesn’t ask for payment as others do,
But forces it, his only cry being “Pay!”
This scoundrel saw me coming from afar,
And without delay, he rushed like a mastiff,
Grabbing the reins of my horse, unyielding.
I was speaking of Montiglio, indeed, and of Geneva,
Whose mill the Marchioness had leased to me,
And brevity of wit made me mix the two.
Terrified, my horse reared up high,
Standing on only two legs, hooves in the air.
Believe me, Gaspar, no horse from sunrise to sunset
Is more skittish than that one!
“Keep your hands off, you filthy peasant!” I said.
“By Corpus Christi, I’ll make you shit your guts!”
“If you make a sound,” he replied, “you’ll pay, beard and all!”
“Who’s refusing to pay, you coward?” I said.
“Who’s the coward? Me?” “Yes, you, you pimp!”
My mother-in-law was with me, that whore,
And that rogue thought she’d be another toll to collect.
He started threatening me if I didn’t pay quick.
Then I, bold as the stench of a rotting mule,
Truly wanted to kill him, Gaspar! But I
Could never draw my dagger from its sheath.
Seeing me reach for my weapon, that manure-pile
Started to flee so fast you’d swear he said “Amen!”
He looked like a soul screaming from purgatory,
“Help, help, mercy, Jesus!”
And shouting thus, he dove into his shop,
So hard he smashed his nose against a pillar.
Seeing blood pour from his nose,
The fool thought I’d dealt him a wound!
And I, who should’ve stood meek as a lamb,
Didn’t deny I’d roughed up the rascal.
But the only wound I gave him
Was like the first shirt you wore on your back!
Then, like a valiant man ready to draw his sword,
I rode toward Sesia, spurring my horse bravely.
And as I crossed the river, I said to myself,
“Let this tale spread for forty-three quattrini!
You, my neighbor, made me pay for a bridge,
Yet I never crossed a bridge or even a little footbridge!”

Distich to the Same:
I beg you, excellent Gaspar, don’t read these verses sober:
We wrote them for you after dinner.

Here is the interaction to show the LLM's comments as well.

Please translate this macaronic poem into English. Bassano Mantovano died in 1499, and this poem is commonly attributed to the mid-1490s. I will split it into two parts.

Ad magnificus dominus Gasparus Vescontus de una vellania que fuit mihi Bassanus de Mantua ab uno Botigliono Savoyno apud vercellis et de una piacevoleza que ego Bassanus fecivi sibi Botigliono

Unam volo tibi Gaspar cuntare novellarm
Que te forte magno faciet pisare de risu
Quidam vercellis stat ala porta botigliono
Omnes qui sessiam facit pagare passantes
Et si quis ter forte passaret in uno
Ter pagare facit: quare spesse voltas eunti
Esset opus medicis intratam habere lorenzi
Hic semper datii passegiat ante botegam
In zach atque in lach culum menando superbe
Quod sibi de Mutina cum vadit Pota videtur
Qui de cavalo dicitur seminasse fasolos
Sed si cercares levantem atque ponentem
Non invenies quisquam poltronior illo
Non habet hic viduis respectum nec maritatis
Sed neque pedonibus: nec cavalcantibus : omnes
Menat ad ingualum sicut lasagnia natalis :
Nec pregat ut ceteri faciunt pagare: sed ipse
Sforzat: et illius vox est hec unica paga
Iste manegoldus me vidit a longe venire
Nec mora: corivit ceu mastinacius unus
Et non avertentis prendit pro brilia cavallum.
De montilio quidem parlabam ac ipse zenevra
Cuius putinam mihi marchesana locavit
Et brevitas sensus fecit coniungere binos
Territus at quadrupes se se drizavit in altum
Io pedibus solum se sustentando duobus.
Crede mihi non est illo gasparre cavallo
A solis ortu spaurosior usque ad occasum
Tene manus ad te dixi villane cochine
Ad corpus christi faciam cagare budellas
Si tibi crepabit respondit barba pagabis.
Quis tibi pagare negat poltrone dicebam :
Quis poltronus ego? tu. mi? si. deh ruffiane
Erat mecum mea socrus unde putana
Quod foret una sibi pensebat ille tarochus
Et cito ni solvara mihi menazare comenzat.
Tunc ego fotentis animosus imagine mulli
Gaspar eum certe volui amazare: sed ego
Squarcinam numquam potui cavare de foras.
Ille manura cazare videns ad arma : comenzat
Fugere tam forum quod a pena diceres amen
Parebatque anima de purgatorio cridans
Altorium altorium misericordia iesus
Et sic cridando se se in botecha ficavit
Tam plane quod nasum sboravit contra pilastrum
Ille sibi videns sanguem uscire de naso.
Me ratus est illam stultus fecisse feritam
Et qui debueram strictus stare sicut agnellus
Non ego negabam unus fecisse ribaldo :
Talia sed tantum dedi sibi vulnera quantum
Que tibi prima fuit dosso vestita camissa.
Inde valenthomus volens eum spata parere
Andavi sesiam versus bravosando cavallum
Atque ego dicebam mecum passando riveram
Pro quaranta tribus vadat rumor iste quatrinis
Vos mihi vicino fecit pro ponte pagare
Et nunquam pontem: neque ponticella passavi.

Ad eundem disticon cor dat:
Sobrius hec oro ne legeris optime Gaspar
Carmina: cenato scripsimus ista tibi.

Below is an English translation of the provided macaronic poem by Bassano Mantovano, preserving the sense and tone as closely as possible while making it readable. Macaronic poetry mixes Latin with vernacular (here, Italian elements), often for humorous or satirical effect, so the translation reflects this playful, exaggerated style. I’ve translated the title and the first part of the poem you provided, keeping the context of Bassano’s grievance against a toll-collecting ruffian, Botigliono, and the humorous incident that follows.

Title (Translated):

To the magnificent lord Gaspar Visconti, concerning a villainy done to me, Bassano of Mantua, by a certain Botigliono of Savoy at Vercelli, and concerning a pleasantry that I, Bassano, performed against this Botigliono.

Poem (Translated):

I want to tell you, Gaspar, a little tale,
Which might make you burst with great laughter.
At Vercelli, there stands by the gate a Botigliono,
Who makes all passersby pay a toll.
And if someone happens to pass by three times,
He makes them pay thrice: so frequent trips
Would need a doctor’s purse to afford the cost!
This fellow always struts before his shop,
Swaying his hips proudly this way and that,
As if he were, from Modena, that Pota
Who’s said to have sown beans from horseback.
But if you sought someone swaggering up and down,
You’d find no greater coward than this one.
He spares neither widows nor married women,
Nor foot travelers, nor horsemen: all
He drags by the groin like Christmas lasagna.
He doesn’t ask for payment as others do,
But forces it, his only cry being “Pay!”
This scoundrel saw me coming from afar,
And without delay, he rushed like a mastiff,
Grabbing the reins of my horse, unyielding.
I was speaking of Montiglio, indeed, and of Geneva,
Whose mill the Marchioness had leased to me,
And brevity of wit made me mix the two.
Terrified, my horse reared up high,
Standing on only two legs, hooves in the air.

Notes on Translation:

Macaronic Style: The poem blends Latin with Italian vernacular, creating a humorous, exaggerated tone. I’ve kept the tone lively and slightly mocking to match the original’s satirical intent.
Cultural References: References like “Pota” (possibly a local figure or nickname), “sowing beans from horseback” (a proverb or jest implying foolishness), and “Christmas lasagna” (likely a festive dish, used here for comic effect) are translated to preserve their humorous intent, even if exact equivalents are unclear.
Botigliono: Likely a caricature of a toll collector or local bully, depicted as both pompous and cowardly. His name suggests a Savoyard origin, adding a regional jab.
Vercelli Context: Vercelli, a town in northern Italy, sets the scene for this toll-gate encounter, a common grievance in medieval and Renaissance travel.
Horse Incident: The poem builds to Bassano’s horse rearing, likely part of the “pleasantry” he claims to have performed, though the second part (not provided) would clarify the resolution.
If you provide the second part of the poem, I can translate it to complete the narrative. Let me know if you’d like further analysis of the poem’s historical or literary context!

Below is an English translation of the second part of Bassano Mantovano’s macaronic poem, continuing the narrative from the first part. I’ve maintained the playful, satirical tone of the original, which mixes Latin with Italian vernacular, and translated it to reflect the humor, exaggeration, and regional flavor. The poem recounts Bassano’s confrontation with the toll-collecting ruffian Botigliono, culminating in a comedic scuffle and Bassano’s triumphant escape. The concluding distich adds a light-hearted note about the poem’s composition.

Poem (Second Part, Translated):

Believe me, Gaspar, no horse from sunrise to sunset
Is more skittish than that one!
“Keep your hands off, you filthy peasant!” I said.
“By Corpus Christi, I’ll make you shit your guts!”
“If you make a sound,” he replied, “you’ll pay, beard and all!”
“Who’s refusing to pay, you coward?” I said.
“Who’s the coward? Me?” “Yes, you, you pimp!”
My mother-in-law was with me, that whore,
And that rogue thought she’d be another toll to collect.
He started threatening me if I didn’t pay quick.
Then I, bold as the stench of a rotting mule,
Truly wanted to kill him, Gaspar! But I
Could never draw my dagger from its sheath.
Seeing me reach for my weapon, that manure-pile
Started to flee so fast you’d swear he said “Amen!”
He looked like a soul screaming from purgatory,
“Help, help, mercy, Jesus!”
And shouting thus, he dove into his shop,
So hard he smashed his nose against a pillar.
Seeing blood pour from his nose,
The fool thought I’d dealt him a wound!
And I, who should’ve stood meek as a lamb,
Didn’t deny I’d roughed up the rascal.
But the only wound I gave him
Was like the first shirt you wore on your back!
Then, like a valiant man ready to draw his sword,
I rode toward Sesia, spurring my horse bravely.
And as I crossed the river, I said to myself,
“Let this tale spread for forty-three quattrini!
You, my neighbor, made me pay for a bridge,
Yet I never crossed a bridge or even a little footbridge!”
Distich to the Same (Translated):
I beg you, excellent Gaspar, don’t read these verses sober:
We wrote them for you after dinner.

Notes on Translation:
Tone and Style: The macaronic mix of Latin and Italian creates a mock-heroic tone, exaggerating a petty dispute into an epic clash. The translation keeps the crude humor (e.g., “cagare budellas” as “shit your guts”) and colloquial insults (e.g., “poltrone” as “coward,” “ruffiane” as “pimp”) to match the original’s irreverence.

Key Moments:

Confrontation: Bassano insults Botigliono, escalating the argument with threats and name-calling. The mention of his “socrus” (mother-in-law) as a “putana” (whore) adds a comedic jab, possibly at her expense or to mock Botigliono’s greed.
Failed Heroics: Bassano’s inability to draw his dagger (“squarcinam”) and Botigliono’s panicked flight into a pillar are slapstick elements, highlighting both characters’ incompetence.
Nosebleed Misunderstanding: Botigliono mistakes his self-inflicted nosebleed for a wound, and Bassano plays along, claiming credit for a “wound” as minor as a shirt’s touch, reinforcing the poem’s irony.
Escape and Boast: Bassano rides off triumphantly, mocking the toll system and claiming his tale is worth “forty-three quattrini” (a small coin, humorously inflating the story’s value). The bridge complaint underscores the absurdity of Botigliono’s tolls.
Distich: The closing couplet humorously advises Gaspar to read the poem while tipsy, implying it was written in a jovial, post-dinner mood, typical of Renaissance convivial poetry.

Cultural Context:
Vercelli and Sesia: The setting (Vercelli, near the Sesia River) grounds the poem in northern Italy, where toll disputes were common.
Corpus Christi: The oath invokes a major feast day, adding mock solemnity.
Quattrini: A low-value coin, used here to poke fun at the story’s exaggerated worth.
Macaronic Elements: Phrases like “manura cazare” (manure-pile) and “altorium altorium” (help, help) blend Latin structure with Italian slang, translated to preserve their vivid, earthy humor.

Combined Narrative (First and Second Parts): The poem recounts Bassano’s encounter with Botigliono, a swaggering toll collector at Vercelli who extorts travelers. When Bassano passes, Botigliono grabs his horse’s reins, sparking a heated exchange. Bassano’s horse rears, and the confrontation escalates with insults and threats. Botigliono, mistaking Bassano’s mother-in-law for another toll-payer, demands payment, but flees when Bassano reaches for his (stuck) dagger. Botigliono’s clumsy retreat results in a nosebleed, which he thinks is Bassano’s doing. Bassano, claiming mock victory, rides off, griping about unfair tolls and spinning his tale into a boastful anecdote for Gaspar Visconti, his patron or friend.
If you’d like further analysis (e.g., historical context, Bassano’s identity, or literary parallels), or if you have more text to translate, let me know!

Thanks Mikeh for orthographic explanations. Now I understand better. You have suggested that a type of madness is not characterized by excess agitation but by its passivity. This type of passive fool is the one that can be naive and lack imagination to realize that your wife is unfaithful. Then, I have read the paragraph of the poem found by Ross because you have shared it. Reading the word tarocho in that poem, I have realized that it could possibly translate into Spanish as "atontado" (stunned) that looks similar to "tonto" (fool) but refers to a more passive type of fool, unable to imagine or react with the speed necessary for the situation. I had never thought about the word "atontado" (stunned) in the context of the Loco del Tarot and I have been interesting to discover this word, to add it to the list of concepts that seem close to Tarocho. Reading your explanations, I have also realized that "Tarocho" possibly pronounced /Taroko/. This was not evident to me but the sound of "ch" is different in Spanish-English than in Italian. Currently, the sound of "CH" writing in English (as in: chiquen) sounds similar or equal to the Italian writing "cc" (as in: capuccino). However, the Italian "Tarocco" is pronounced /taroko/. I suppose the difference in pronouncement is due to the vowel that is after "cc". As a reflection so that you do not feel lost, I think that Tarocho could effectively refer to a passive fool like a wood. I will continue studying both poems (we have news translations) and both theories about the origin of the name Tarocho/Tarocco/Tarau (singular). Old spanish about the same game: Taroque. Mikeh mentioned the words that come from italian and in french have the end: -que.

Thank you all!

Thanks to both SteveM and Ross for the translations. They are different. Now if I only knew how to evaluate them. I'd never heard of Grok 3.

Grok 3 seems to have "tarochus" as "rogue." I'm not sure about that. However, I do like "ruffiane" as "pimp." Steve has "letch" as a possibility. That is the difficulty of inferring the meaning of a word from the context of just one sentence. And even the meaning of that one sentence is in doubt. Grok 3 has:

"“Who’s the coward? Me?” “Yes, you, you pimp!”
My mother-in-law was with me, that whore,
And that rogue thought she’d be another toll to collect.
He started threatening me if I didn’t pay quick."

Steve offers a partial translation, which isn't really enough. He has

Who is the scoundrel/bastard, I you, me?..
His mother in law was with him (the narrator),
and that fool / letch (tarochus) thought she was a whore,
and there for him!
.....

Then we have Ross's old translation, also partial

...
My mother-in-law was with me, ...
and this idiot thought he could get some money out of her,
so he started threatening me.

So let's go line by line.

Quis poltronus ego? tu. mi? si. deh ruffiane

For "poltronus" Grok 3 has "coward", Steve has "scoundrel". ("Bastard" in this context is similar enough to drop.) Google Translate offered "coward." The word, or similar, occurs elsewhere in the poem, in particular, in another section I used Google Translate on.

Non invenies quisquam poltronior illo

for which Grok 3 has:

You’d find no greater coward than this one.

Steve M has

You will not find any greater scoundrel than he.

Google Translate had:

You will not find anyone more arrogant than he.

Wiktionary has, for Italian "poltrone", lazy. There is also the Lombard "polter," meaning "couch", which fits that meaning. However, the context, that of charging married people and widows, doesn't fit.

The only other occurrence of "poltrone" words is in the sentence just before the part I'm focusing on:

Quis tibi pagare negat poltrone dicebam:

Grok 3 says,

“Who’s refusing to pay, you coward?” I said.

The Grand Dizionario della Lingua Italiana (GDLI) gives ten meanings for the word, including all of the above.https://www.gdli.it/pdf_viewer/Scripts/ ... a=poltrone, https://www.gdli.it/pdf_viewer/Scripts/ ... a=poltrone It seems to me that Steve's "scoundrel" fits best.

Then there is "ruffiane". Grok 3 has "pimp"; Google translate had "ruffian." The context, with "putana" in the next line, supports Grok 3. In modern Italian it is "ruffiano", https://www.gdli.it/pdf_viewer/Scripts/ ... a=ruffiano. Then:

Erat mecum mea socrus unde putana

Grok 3 has

My mother-in-law was with me, that whore.

This seems to me not to fit the context, which is directed at the toll-taker and not others, who are his victims. Steve says that the toll-taker thought she was a whore. That fits the context.

Now the crucial line:

Quod foret una sibi pensebat ille tarochus

Grok 3 has:

And that rogue thought she’d be another toll to collect.

which is like Ross (unless one understands that tolls can come in other forms than money), except that "rogue" and "idiot" have different meanings:

And that idiot thought he could get some money out of her.

And SteveM:

that fool / letch (tarochus) thought she was a whore, and there for him!

That seems pretty good to me, as it connects with "pimp" and "whore". The only thing I'm dubious about is "letch", as it doesn't fit the later "tarocco" in Italian. Grok 3 adds words that aren't there. Ross's does, too, and doesn't fit with "pimp" and "whore".

Finally,

Et cito ni solvara mihi menazare comenzat.

Grok 3:

He started threatening me if I didn’t pay quick.

Ross:

So he started threatening me.

Ross has left out the "quick". It is either that he quickly started threatening, or what Grok has. The -a ending on "solvara" suggests "he" rather than "I", but that makes no sense. So "I pay up."

So I get:

“Who’s the scoundrel, I? "You." "Me?” “Yes, you, you pimp!”
My mother-in-law was with me, a whore,
The fool thought, and there for him.
And [if?] I don't [didn't?] pay up [,?] at once [,?] he started [starts?] to threaten me.

From Ross's translation, I had thought that what made him a tarochus was his threatening behavior, inappropriate agitation, although I suppose "extortioner" would have also been a possibility. But I wanted something that fit the concept of "fool", or "crazy person," and "extortioner" didn't do that. I did not have enough context to suppose anything else. Now it seems to me that what makes the toll-taker a tarochus is his lack of imagination, which prevents him from recognizing what is in front of him, obvious to others, in terms other than what his first impulse tells him, that the woman is a whore meant for him, as payment. It is really the same as in Alione's poem, where the taroch does not realize that priests or monks could be other than celibate.

Without a core meaning of agitation, the theory that "tarochus" comes from the Greek "tarachos" or the Latin "taraxia" seems to me weakened. That it comes from the Arabic "tarakh", deduction, is stronger, as well as the proposal that it comes from the Lombard word for a block of wood. However, "tarakh" is related to "tarare" (Italian), "tarato" (past participle), and, I think, the Provencale "taro" or "tarous".

Magic Moon: Yes, "ch" is pronounced like "k" in Italian. Since "tarochus" has a Latin ending, we should also consider what the medieval Latin pronunciation would be. It is the same, I think.

So what is behind this word "tarochus," etymologically? Since Mantovano is Mantuan and Gaspar is Milanese, it either derives from a word familiar to both of them or is itself already in common use. But where? Piedmont is merely the setting for the story. If the rest of the Italian, or Latinizations of Italian, or vice versa, used a particular dialect throughout (as opposed to just the quoted speech), then perhaps this word, too, would be in that dialect. I have no idea. Perhaps Grok 3 could tell us more: "vernacular Italian" isn't very preise. I have no idea how to use Grok 3. And even if most words are Tuscan, the literary language, that doesn't prevent an occasional word from a dialect, which here would be more likely Lombard than Piedmontese, because of who is writing (from Mantua) and who it is written to (from Milan).

Alione is definitely Piedmontese and is based in Asti. The editor says in his introduction to Mantovano that Alione wrote an pro-French macaronic poem (reproduced in the book) against a anti-French one by Mantovano:

Che questo poeta componesse ma Maccheronea prima dell'anno 1499, consta dalla Maccheronea dell' Alione diretta contro quella del Bassano, il quale era morto prima di quell ’ anno. Quella dell ’ Alione porta il titolo: Macharonea contra macharoneam Bassani. Verso la fine di essa si leggono questi due versi:

Hoc solimi mitto satis est responsa Bassani
Qui contra gallos dictavil macharoneam.

Di questa Maccheronea del Bassano non esiste più alcuno esemplare conosciuto.

(That this poet composed a Maccheronea before the year 1499 is established by Alione's Maccheronea directed against that of Bassano, who had died before that year. That of Alione bears the title: Macharonea contra macharoneam Bassani. Towards the end of it one reads these two verses:

I am sending this alone, it is enough, the answer to Bassanio
Who speaks against the Gauls, a macharonea.

Of this Maccheronea by Bassano there is no longer any known copy.)

So there is the possibility that Alione is simply following Mantovano, whatever dialect he is using himself. Or not. I was surprised by the statement that Bassano died before 1499, as the Bassano Mantovano in treccani died much later. Perhaps it is a different one.

I do not know how close we are to solving the riddle of the origin of the words "tarocchi" and "tarot".

The first use of the discussed word-group (Taroch and similar) for playing cards appears in Avignon 1505 (France)) and in Ferrara 1505 (French friendly in this time) and additionally in Ferrara (after the French returned back 1515 under Francis I) and in Brescia (likely part of Venice).
The old word for the specific card decks was "Trionfi" and this meant "Italian Trionfi", cause this were Italian cards. In 1495 the battle at Taro was something, that could be used for mockery about the failed attempt of France to realize something in Italy, in the years after France had conquered Milan 1499/1500 the word meant a French triumph and that could be used to modify the Italian language.
The use of the word for the cards survived even the battle of Pavia in 1525.

I have added to my previous post the quote at the end, about Alione's response to Bassano, as I tend to mix up in my memory which one was first and which one was anti-French. Just giving the quote is safer.

Huck wrote,

The first use of the discussed word-group (Taroch and similar) for playing cards appears in Avignon 1505 (France)) and in Ferrara 1505 (French friendly in this time) and additionally in Ferrara (after the French returned back 1515 under Francis I) and in Brescia (likely part of Venice).

As you pointed out several years ago, the Brescia entry is the earliest so far known, about 1502, for the game formerly known as trionfi (the entry names the bagatella, the angel, the world, the fool, and justice). See
viewtopic.php?p=21571#p21571.

Huck wrote,

In 1495 the battle at Taro was something, that could be used for mockery about the failed attempt of France to realize something in Italy, in the years after France had conquered Milan 1499/1500 the word meant a French triumph and that could be used to modify the Italian language.
The use of the word for the cards survived even the battle of Pavia in 1525.

As you've said before. I suppose it is worth repeating, but if so it is worth repeating some doubts. It is not clear to me how naming a game, of Italian origin and popular in many places in Italy, after the place where this battle took place, in which many more Italians died than French, would serve to mock the French, even if the French did lose their loot (which they would have been keen on replenishing as soon as they could). I can understand why a full English breakfast might be called a "Monty" because a popular military leader always ate one on the battlefield. I can understand how a particular type of boots might be called "wellies" because a particular military leader created or popularized that type of boot. I can even, barely, understand why the English might call a particular type of pastry a "Napoleon" based on the belief that Napoleon's eating of too many of them before the Battle of Waterloo contributed to his defeat. But I cannot see any such association between the game and the battle. If it were a game introduced by the French, perhaps, but that would need to argued and defended. And the Italians didn't call it "taro". That's another problem: how to account for the presence of the -cco (or -ch, if you want to say that form was first) in the Italian, given that "Taro" was a perfectly good Italian word, the name of the river. There is at least enough doubt that it is worth exploring other hypotheses.

And I don't understand the relevance of the fact that the term "tarocco" for the game survived the battle of Pavia. Please explain.

It is possible that the name of the Tarocho game (Brescia, 1502) had double or triple sense. Renaissance played words. The word "Taroch" in those poems could mean silly. If you refer to a madman, then it is a liabilities without imagination but I prefer to forget the madness at that early stage for the word "taroch" used in those poems. Partially I understand all the other interpretations of the text. They can be interesting but I have the feeling that it fits well translate "Taroch" as a fool, stunned, stupid.

I propose something like that:

Perhaps the use of "Taroch" with the sense of fool arose from a piece of wood applied to people in a metaphoric way as a word game with the Taro river. The French could that the Italians say /tarok/ (taroch) and then they said /taró/ (tarau) in the French style because the final consonant does not pronounce if there is no vowel later. It is possible that the French thought of the Taro river (pronounced just like: Tarau) more than the Italians, to make fun of the Italians for the deaths in the battle next to the Taro River. Then, the Italian "Taroch" (wood and silly) pronounced / tarok / inspired the name "Tarocho" read /taroko/ for the game and that then tarocco was written in Boloña and other places. That is, first the taroch insult "taroch" for a fool and then that derives in the tarocho game that the French called Tarau pronounced /taró/ like the taro river since the protagonist of the game was dumb as the Italians who lost the battle according to French opinion.

Is a mixed theory similar to this possible?

PD: Huck, whay Ferrara was friend with French? How do you connect Ferrara and Avignon-1505? I remember something but I did not understand all about this idea.

Magic Moon wrote,

The French could that the Italians say /tarok/ (taroch) and then they said /taró/ (tarau) in the French style because the final consonant does not pronounce if there is no vowel later.

The problem is that words ending in -occo do not go into French by dropping the -cco. They change it to -que, which keeps the "k" sound, e.g. barocco becomes baroque. Depaulis wrote an article about that

I suppose you could say (or are saying) that the French made an exception in this case because the word "tarocco" was similar to "Taro", the river of the Italian debacle, where the Italians were fools, or maybe even both sides - even though they had gone on a fool's errand and lost their loot, they at least had this silly game. In that way it is like the explanation of "Napoleon" as a pastry because not only did Napoleon like them but they were associated with the debacle at Waterloo. The two examples would be even more parallel if the original name for the pastry were "Napolitano", as one hypothesis has it, because then there would have been the change in name, too. I had thought earlier that this "hybrid" explanation for "taraux" was too contrived, i.e. made to fit just the example at hand. But it may not be, since I now can think of another example (pastry) where it is at least a reasonable possibility. It needs more evidence, of course.

Magic Moon wrote

The word "Taroch" in those poems could mean silly. If you refer to a madman, then it is a liabilities without imagination but I prefer to forget the madness at that early stage for the word "taroch" used in those poems. Partially I understand all the other interpretations of the text. They can be interesting but I have the feeling that it fits well translate "Taroch" as a fool, stunned, stupid.

I agree, about "madness". However, the word "silly" in modern English is similar to "fanciful," i.e. too much imagination - it is too restrictive. "Fool" is ok, as it applies both with too much imagination and too little. The man who mistakes a person's mother in law for a prostitute perhaps has too much imagination rather than too little. The man who doesn't suspect the monks has too little imagination. Judgments made on either basis are foolish. "Stunned" does not quite fit. It means "astonished" or "unable to react", not quite the same thing. "Stupid" is OK. My purpose in bringing in lack of imagination was to show the similarity of the two cases in the two poems, ways in which one can be foolish. There are other ways, not excluded by the word "taroch" and "tarochus." Too much imagination is one of them. Being too agitated or too passive are others. The words are imprecise, yes.