Favourite Children's Authors: T. H. White

Sylvia Townsend Warner: T. H. White: A Biography (1967)

The blurb for a recent reprint of Sylvia Townsend Warner's biography of her old friend Tim White claims that:

Warner treats White's repressed sexual predilections with humane understanding in this wise portrait of a tormented literary giant, written by a novelist and a poet.

Certainly he had his oddities - as did Sylvia Townsend Warner, for that matter - but it seems rather a strange way to characterise him: "When did you stop beating your wife?" - or, as in this case, repressing your sexual predilections?

T. H. White: The Master (1957)

I suppose that it highlights a problem with T. H. White's body of work as a whole, though. Just what exactly was he? As a writer, that is. We tend to see him as a children's author nowadays - if we think about him at all.

And, certainly, a couple of his books - The Sword in the Stone (1938) and Mistress Masham's Repose (1946) - have become children's classics. Confining him to that pigeon-hole seems more than a little reductive, however.

T. H. White: Mistress Masham's Repose (1946)

Actually I could easily have listed him under either of the other two categories of writer I've been compiling occasional posts about on this blog: Ghost Story Writers, or SF Luminaries.

The Master (1957) is - more or less - SF; and there are a number of ghost stories included in Earth Stopped (1934) and his other short story collections, some of them ("Soft Voices at Passenham") very good indeed.

T. H. White: The Maharajah and Other Stories (1981)

Perhaps he was primarily a fantasy writer, then? Certainly his most famous book, The Once and Future King (1958) is more fantasy than anything else. It is, in fact, probably the most influential retelling of the Arthurian legend since Tennyson's Idylls of the King - and, like Tennyson, its principal source of both raw material and inspiration is Thomas Malory's Morte d'Arthur (1485).

T. H. White: The Once and Future King (1958 / 1967)

I remember the blurb on the back of my paperback copy referring to White's tetralogy as "a glorious dream of the Middle Ages as they never were but should have been." That strikes me as a pretty accurate description.

In form, The Once and Future King masquerades as a kind of modern commentary on Malory's translation/adaptation of his original French sources in the 13th-century Vulgate Cycle. But it's that pretence which allows White to soar into complex realms of psychology visible only by implication behind the conventions of late medieval romance.

T. H. White: The Sword in the Stone (1938)

I once examined an Honours essay on The Once and Future King. In pursuit of their thesis, this particular student had examined quite closely the extensive revisions White made in both The Sword in the Stone and The Witch in the Wood in order to fit them into the more ambitious, interlinked structure of the larger collection.

T. H. White: The Witch in the Wood (1939)

I see that I said in my comments:

I’m particularly impressed by the textual comparisons this student has made between the initial and revised versions of the first two volumes of the tetralogy (or set of five books: depending on whether or not one counts the Book of Merlyn). The points he makes about the changes in the 1958 text are worked seamlessly and tellingly into his overall argument.

I recommended the highest possible grade for the essay, perhaps partially because I'd been longing to make that comparison myself ever since I learned that there was an earlier version of "The Queen of Air and Darkness", Part Two of The Once and Future King.

T. H. White: The Goshawk (1951)

To complicate things still further, White's initial successes were in the field of outdoorsy, sporting adventure. England Have My Bones (1936) was his first bestseller. It was followed by Burke's Steerage (1938), and then by his masterpiece in the genre, The Goshawk - the terrifyingly intimate and (at times) shocking account of his largely unavailing attempts to tame a wild raptor.

T. H. White & Brownie

As far as his personal life goes, if White ever had a great love, it was definitely for his Irish setter Brownie. He tried to explain the intensity of his feelings for her in a letter to his friend David "Bunny" Garnett:

It is a queer difference between this kind of thing and getting married ... married people love each other at first (I understand) and it fades by use and custom, but with dogs you love them most at last.

Garnett wasn't having any. A real and lasting relationship with an animal was, to him, absurd. In response he lectured White on the immaturity and childishness of so extravagant an overreaction to the "natural" death of a pet.

Still, the poignancy of White's letter about his beloved dog's last days has to be read to be believed:

[November 1944]

Dearest Bunny,

Brownie died today. In all her 14 years of life I have only been away from her at night for 3 times ... but I did go in to Dublin about twice a year to buy books ... and I thought she understood about this. To-day I went at 10, but the bloody devils had managed to kill her somehow when I got back at 7. She was in perfect health. I left her in my bed this morning, as it was an early start. Now I am writing with her dead head in my lap. I will sit up with her tonight, but tomorrow we must bury her. I don’t know what to do after that. I am only sitting up because of that thing about perhaps consciousness persisting a bit. She has been to me more perfect than anything else in all my life, and I have failed her at the end, an 180-1 chance. If it had been any other day I might have known that I had done my best. These fools here did not poison her — I will not believe that. But I could have done more. They kept rubbing her, they say. She looks quite alive. She was wife, mother, mistress & child. Please forgive me for writing this distressing stuff, but it is helping me. Her little tired face cannot be helped. Please do not write to me at all about her, for very long time, but tell me if I ought to buy another bitch or not, as I do not know what to think about anything. I am certain I am not going to kill myself about it, as I thought I might once. However, you will find this all very hysterical, so I may as well stop. I still expect to wake up and find it wasn’t. She was all I had.

love from TIM

Another letter followed hot on its heels:

Dear Bunny,

Please forgive me writing again, but I am so lonely and can’t stop crying and it is the shock. I waked her for two nights and buried her this morning in a turf basket, all my eggs in one basket. Now I am to begin a new life and it is important to begin it right, but I find it difficult to think straight. It is about whether I ought to buy another dog or not ... I might not survive another bereavement like this in 12 years’ time, and dread to put myself in the way of it. If your father & mother & both sons had died at the same moment as Ray, unexpectedly, in your absence, you would know what I am talking about. Unfortunately Brownie was barren, like myself, and as I have rather an overbearing character I had made her live through me, as I lived through her. Brownie was my life and I am lonely for just such another reservoir for my love. But if I did get such reservoir it would die in about 12 years and at present I feel I couldn’t face that. Do people get used to being bereaved? This is my first time. I am feeling very lucky to have a friend like you that I can write to without being thought dotty to go on like that about mere dogs.
They did not poison her. It was one of her little heart attacks and they did not know how to treat it and killed her by the wrong kindnesses.
You must try to understand that I am and will remain entirely without wife or brother or sister or child and that Brownie supplied more than the place of these to me. We loved each other more and more every year.

... All I can do now is to remember her dead as I buried her, the cold grey jowl in the basket, and not as my heart’s blood, which she was for the last eight years of our twelve.

- Quoted from The Futility Closet (17/10/2014)

Angelica Garnett: Deceived with Kindness: A Bloomsbury Childhood (1984)

Knowing what we now do about the perversity of some of David Garnett's own relationships - his curious April-November marriage to his male lover Duncan Grant's young daughter Angelica Bell, for instance - it's hard not to see his indignation at White's confessions as the pot calling the kettle black.

But then, in this as in so many other matters, White seems to have been ahead of his times rather than - as the censorious Garnett implied - behind them. Such intense love for an animal companion: especially, as in this case, a dog who had been by White's side, through thick and thin, for fourteen years, surely no longer requires an apology?

There were, to be sure, other aspects to White's "repressed sexual predilections" - most of them innocuous enough to a modern reader - but for more detail on that I'll refer you to the White / Garnett Letters or, preferably, S. T. Warner's biography.

T. H. White: The Elephant and the Kangaroo (1947)

Mind you, White's generic and stylistic experiments certainly could lead him astray at times. His account of a new great flood, set in Ireland, where he lived during most of World War II, was greatly resented by his local hosts, who felt that it depicted them as ignorant peasants.

White was horrified by this - as he saw it - misreading of a light-hearted fantasy. but the fact remains that he was no longer welcome in this home away from home. The disposition to turn everything you encounter into copy is, I suppose, the writer's curse: but particularly so in White's case, since it took so long for each of his books to accrete.

Maybe he's not a great writer. Maybe he is. It's hard to take much interest in such matters of literary taxonomy. Above all, he was a great original, and each of his books takes a strikingly different approach to the question of how to live on this earth. His inability to fit into any particular category or mold is probably why they remain so lively and intriguing sixty years after his death.

I'm very fond of Sylvia Townsend Warner's writing, too. All things considered, given her own political and social leanings, I'm not sure she was best placed to interpret her friend Tim. She certainly did her best, however - throwing up her hands at times to admit her perplexity - and her biography remains an indispensable adjunct to the body of his work.

All of it, imho, deserves to be read, reread, and treasured.

Sylvia Townsend Warner: T. H. White: A Biography (1967 / 2023)

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T. H. White

Terence Hanbury White
(1906-1964)

Books I own are marked in bold:

Poetry:


1. Loved Helen (1929)
   • Loved Helen and Other Poems. London: Chatto & Windus, 1929.
2. The Green Bay Tree (1929)
3. A Joy Proposed. Ed. Kurth Sprague (1980)
   • A Joy Proposed: Poems. Ed. Kurth Sprague. 1980. London: Secker & Warburg, 1982.

Fiction:


4. [with R. McNair Scott] Dead Mr Nixon (1931)
5. [as James Aston] First Lesson (1932)
6. [as James Aston] They Winter Abroad (1932)
7. Darkness at Pemberley (1932)
8. Farewell Victoria (1933)
   • Farewell Victoria. 1933. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1945.
9. Earth Stopped (1934)
   • Earth Stopped, or Mr. Marx’s Sporting Tour. London: Collins, 1934.
10. Gone to Ground (1935)
11. The Sword in the Stone (1938)
    • The Sword in the Stone. 1938. London: Collins, 1945.
12. The Witch in the Wood (1939)
13. The Ill-Made Knight (1940)
14. Mistress Masham's Repose (1946)
    • Mistress Masham’s Repose. London: Jonathan Cape, 1947.
15. The Elephant and the Kangaroo (1947)
    • The Elephant and the Kangaroo. London: Jonathan Cape, 1948.
16. The Master: An Adventure Story (1957)
    • The Master: An Adventure Story. 1957. A Puffin Book. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1976.
17. The Once and Future King (1958)
    1. The Sword in the Stone (1938)
    2. The Queen of Air and Darkness (1939)
    3. The Ill-Made Knight (1940)
    4. The Candle in the Wind (1958)
    • The Once and Future King. London: Collins, 1958.
    • The Once and Future King. 1958. Fontana Books. London: Collins, 1967.
18. The Book of Merlyn (1977)
    • The Book of Merlyn: The Unpublished Conclusion to the Once and Future King. Prologue by Sylvia Townsend Warner. Illustrations by Trevor Stubley. 1977. London: Fontana / Collins, 1978.
19. The Maharajah and Other Stories: from Earth Stopped (1934) and Gone to Ground (1935). Ed. Kurth Sprague (1981)
    • The Maharajah and Other Stories. Ed. Kurth Sprague. 1981. London: Futura, 1983.
20. The Once and Future King (1996)
    1. The Sword in the Stone (1938)
    2. The Queen of Air and Darkness (1939)
    3. The Ill-Made Knight (1940)
    4. The Candle in the Wind (1958)
    5. The Book of Merlyn (1977)
    • The Once and Future King. 1939, 1940, 1958, 1977. HarperVoyager. London: HarperCollins Publishers, 1996.

Non-fiction:


21. England Have My Bones (1936)
    • England Have My Bones. 1936. St. James’s Library. London: Collins, 1952.
22. Burke's Steerage, or, The Amateur Gentleman’s Introduction to Noble Sports and Pastimes (1938)
23. The Age of Scandal (1950)
    • The Age of Scandal: an Excursion through a Minor Period. 1950. London: Jonathan Cape, 1951.
24. The Goshawk (1951)
    • The Goshawk. 1951. With diagrams from sketches by the author and specially illustrated for RU by Ralph Thompson. London: Readers Union Ltd. / Jonathan Cape, 1953.
    • The Goshawk. 1951. Penguin Modern Classics. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1975.
25. The Scandalmonger (1952)
    • The Scandalmonger. London: Jonathan Cape, 1952.
26. The Book of Beasts (1954)
    • The Bestiary: a Book of Beasts. 1954. New York: Capricorn Books, 1960.
27. The Godstone and the Blackymor (1959)
    • The Godstone and the Blackymor. Illustrated by Edward Ardizzone. 1959. London: The Reprint Society, 1960.
28. America at Last (1965)

Letters:


29. The White / Garnett Letters. Ed. David Garnett (1968)
30. Letters to a Friend: The Correspondence Between T. H. White and L. J. Potts (1984)
    • Letters to a Friend: The Correspondence between T. H. White and L. J. Potts. Ed. François Gallix. Gloucester: Alan Sutton, 1984.

Secondary:


31. Warner, Sylvia Townsend. T. H. White: A Biography. London: Jonathan Cape / Chatto & Windus, 1967.

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Favourite Children's Authors: Mary Stewart

Mary Stewart: A Walk in Wolf Wood (1980)

It seems like an auspicious sign that I should have run across a first edition of Mary Stewart's A Walk in Wolf Wood in a vintage shop on New Year's Eve.

It's not my favourite among her children's books, but it's still a nice piece of timeslip fiction, with werewolves, and enchantments, and enchanted talismans, and all the usual appurtenances of her stories.

The American edition was actually subtitled "A Tale of Fantasy and Magic", in case potential buyers might be in doubt on the matter.

Mary Stewart: Ludo and the Star Horse (1974)

More to the point, I'd only seen it previously as a rather scruffy little paperback, whereas this hardback looks exceptionally handsome alongside my copies of her other two books in the genre, Ludo and the Star Horse and The Little Broomstick.

Mary Stewart: The Little Broomstick (1971)

The latter has recently been filmed - with a largely rewritten plot and somewhat sub-standard animation - as Mary and the Witch's Flower by Studio Ghibli. I'm normally a fan of their work, but in this case they didn't really succeed in catching the richly atmospheric simplicity of the original: a fantasy classic if ever there was one.

In particular, Endor College, Madam Mumblechook's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry seems like a definite prototype for J. K. Rowling's Hogwarts. And there are many other seemingly throwaway details in Stewart's story, such as the strangely offkilter nursery rhymes recited within the walls of the college, which have stayed stuck in my head for all these years.

Hiromasa Yonebayashi, dir.: Mary and the Witch's Flower (2017)

The Little Broomstick is probably Stewart's best and most inventive children's book. And yet, despite that, I wouldn't call it my favourite among the three. Ludo and the Star Horse, her cleverly concocted guide to the signs of the Zodiac and other wonders of the night sky, is the one I never tire of.

Of course, as with most children's books, to get their full flavour you really have to have been there - to have read them when you were still a kid. The Little Broomstick was published when I was nine, and Ludo when I was twelve. I don't know when my parents first bought them, but probably on first publication, given the fact that both are first editions.

I certainly had no objections at that age to reading "girly" kid's books alongside the more boy's-own offerings of W. E. Johns, Arthur Catherall et al. My sister Anne was a fan of Mary Stewart's romance novels, which meant that I ended up reading all of those, too. Despite my initial misgivings, I found I really liked them - particularly the ones set in exotic locales such as Provence or the Greek Islands.

Mary Stewart: Romance Novels (2020)

It's alleged that Charles Darwin had two criteria for the novels he read as a respite from his labours: they had to have a happy ending, and the heroine must be good-looking. Much ink has been spilt on the rich irony of this juxtaposition: the prophet of biological determinism a closet sentimentalist in his off-hours!

There's something to be said for such comfortable generic expectations, though. Mary Stewart, the uncrowned "Queen of Romantic Suspense", understood exactly what her audience wanted: a frisson of fear, some dark shadows at the heart of the narrative, but no devastating surprises at the end. She was always more of an Ann Radcliffe than a Monk Lewis.

Mary Stewart: The House of Letterawe

And so it might have gone on indefinitely. She published a new book virtually every year between 1955 and 1968. Her publishers were happy; the fans were satisfied; she seemed to have found her ideal role both in literature and life, in her grand estate on Loch Awe in the Scottish Highlands.

Mary Stewart: The Crystal Cave (1970)

But then something happened: something unprecedented and completely off-topic. She wrote the autobiography of a Dark Ages boy with prophetic gifts, a boy called Merlin. She called it The Crystal Cave, after a strange little poem by Orkney writer Edwin Muir:

O Merlin in your crystal cave
Deep in the diamond of the day,
Will there ever be a singer
Whose music will smooth away
The furrow drawn by Adam's finger
Across the memory and the wave?
Or a runner who'll outrun
Man's long shadow driving on,
Break through the gate of memory
And hang the apple on the tree?
Will your magic ever show
The sleeping bride shut in her bower,
The day wreathed in its mound of snow
and Time locked in his tower?

Fans of her romance novels had no idea what to make of all this. She did write a few more in that vein, at widely scattered intervals, but from now on she was firmly in the grip of the Arthurian bug, which I've written more about here and here.

I called it "England's Dreaming" in the second of these posts, where I tried to link this fascination with the possible historicity of a figure called "King Arthur" with the wider subject of literary psychogeography.

However you try to account for it, though, this fascinating mania was at its height in the 1960s and 70s - presumably as part of the contemporary revival of New Age ideologies of nature worship and revived paganism.

Geoffrey Ashe, ed.: The Quest for Arthur's Britain (1971)

Geoffrey Ashe's Quest for Arthur's Britain was one of the Bibles of the new faith - even more than his slew of other books on the subject - principally because it seemed to promise concrete archaeological evidence for the existence of a charismatic warlord who flourished in the late 5th century, at much the same time as the romanticised "King Arthur."

A kind of orthodoxy grew up which took for granted that the resistance of the last Romano-Britains against the incoming Saxons had given rise not only to the idea but also a good deal of the detail of the exploits of this "Arthur" - whatever he looked like, and wherever he was based.

The intensity of Mary Stewart's imagination enabled her to flesh out this Romano-British world, still full of the relics of empire but gradually sliding into the chaotic world of tribal rivalries and local warlords.

Joan Grant: Winged Pharaoh (1937)

Her book was, accordingly, a massive success. It remains not only tremendously readable but also strangely persuasive in its vision of those long-lost times, poised between Classical antiquity and the oncoming heroic age. It was as if she'd had a vision, or an out-of-body experience, along the lines of the "reincarnation novels" of English parapsychologist Joan Grant.

The difference was that Mary Stewart could write.

Mary Stewart: The Hollow Hills (1973)

Am I the only one to have found the sequel a little disappointing? Merlin gradually retreats from centre stage to share the limelight with the boy Arthur who (I'm sorry to say) has little of the same incandescent star power.

There's less (I suppose inevitably) of the magic of a child's intense perceptions of the world, and more of the necessary politics involved in setting up a kingdom in Dark Age Britain.

It's still all very well written, mind you - and it's hard to imagine any normal reader actually stopping reading following Stewart's expertly woven story at the end of book one, but I'm afraid that it's The Crystal Cave which remains the masterpiece. The other books simply serve to flesh out the theme it proposes.

Mary Stewart: The Last Enchantment (1979)

Those of us who read these books when they first came out had a long weary wait before we could get out hands on The Last Enchantment. And it was bound to be a disappointment on some level, given this level of anticipation.

It's good enough. It completes the trilogy - Merlin's story is told to its end, though there are still some aspects of Arthur's left to fill in. Or so Stewart must have thought, anyway, as she went on to write a further instalment, devoted to the equally crucial figure of Mordred.

Mary Stewart: The Wicked Day (1983)

He is, of course, in many ways the most interesting character in the whole story: the Judas to Arthur's Christ. No-one's exactly cracked him yet, but there have been some pretty good attempts along the way.

Is this one of them? Up to each reader to decide, I guess. ...

Mary Stewart: The Prince and the Pilgrim (1995)

And finally, last and definitely least, there's The Prince and the Pilgrim. Stewart was nearly 80 when she published this last addendum to her Arthurian world, and by then the kettle was no longer really on the boil.

The only reason I knew this book even existed was because I found a copy in a bach where I was staying one summer. Of course I promptly read it from cover to cover.

It's not really part of her main Arthurian sequence - nor is it simply a romance novel set in those historical times - but it has elements of both of those things. There's no real harm in it, but it's doubtful if there's much point in it either.

From anyone else, it would simply seem a straightforward potboiler, but I guess it's just the contrast with the wildly passionate writer of The Crystal Cave which makes it seem an unfortunate coda to her career as a visionary historical novelist.

Mary Stewart Omnibus: Rose Cottage / Stormy Petrel / Thornyhold (1999)

She published a few last novella-length fictions in her original romance vein, with occasional flashes of the old brilliance, but the heart of her work lies earlier: in those first fresh novels, intoxicated by the love of travel and romance in foreign parts; also in the magic of the three children's books.

Above all, it rests on the unforgettable intensity of The Crystal Cave.

Weird Tales: The Werewolf Howls (1941)

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Mary Stewart

Lady Mary Florence Elinor Stewart [née Rainbow]
(1916-2014)

Novels:


1. Madam, Will You Talk? (1955)
   • Madam, Will You Talk? 1955. London: Hodder Paperbacks Ltd., 1971.
2. Wildfire at Midnight (1956)
   • Wildfire at Midnight. 1956. Coronet Books. London: Hodder Paperbacks Ltd., 1974.
3. Thunder on the Right (1957)
   • Thunder on the Right. 1957. Coronet Books. London: Hodder Paperbacks Ltd., 1972.
4. Nine Coaches Waiting (1958)
   • Nine Coaches Waiting. 1958. London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1964.
   • The Castle of Danger [Young Adult version] (Longman simplified TESL Series, 1981)
5. My Brother Michael (1959)
   • My Brother Michael. 1959. Coronet Books. London: Hodder Paperbacks Ltd., 1973.
6. The Ivy Tree (1961)
   • The Ivy Tree. 1961. Coronet Books. London: Hodder Paperbacks Ltd., 1975.
7. The Moon-Spinners (1962)
   • The Moonspinners. 1962. Coronet Books. London: Hodder Paperbacks Ltd., 1973.
8. This Rough Magic (1964)
   • This Rough Magic. 1964. London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1966.
9. Airs Above the Ground (1965)
   • Airs Above the Ground. London: Readers Book Club, 1965.
10. The Gabriel Hounds (1967)
    • The Gabriel Hounds. 1967. London: Hodder Paperbacks Ltd., 1968.
11. The Wind Off the Small Isles (1968)
    • The Wind off the Small Isles. Illustrated by Laurence Irving. London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1968.
12. Touch Not the Cat (1976)
    • Touch Not the Cat. 1976. Coronet Books. London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1977.
13. Thornyhold (1988)
14. Stormy Petrel (1991)
    • Stormy Petrel. London: BCA, by arrangement with Hodder and Stoughton, 1991.
15. Rose Cottage (1997)

Series:


16. The Merlin Chronicles (1970-1995)
    1. The Crystal Cave (1970)
       • The Crystal Cave. 1970. Hodder Paperbacks. London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1971.
    2. The Hollow Hills (1973)
       • The Hollow Hills. London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1973.
    3. The Last Enchantment (1979)
       • The Last Enchantment. 1979. Coronet Books. London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1980.
    4. The Wicked Day (1983)
       • The Wicked Day. 1983. Coronet Books. London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1984.
    5. The Prince and the Pilgrim (1995)
       • The Prince and the Pilgrim. 1995. Coronet Books. London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1996.

Children's novels:


17. The Little Broomstick (1971)
    • The Little Broomstick. Illustrated by Shirley Hughes. Leicester: Brockhampton Press Ltd., 1971.
18. Ludo and the Star Horse (1974)
    • Ludo and the Star Horse. Illustrated by Gino D’Achille. Leicester: Brockhampton Press Ltd., 1974.
19. A Walk in Wolf Wood (1980)
    • A Walk in Wolf Wood. Illustrated by Doreen Caldwell. Hodder and Stoughton Children's Books. London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1980.

Poetry:


20. Frost on the Window: And other Poems (1990)

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Signs of the Zodiac

1. Aquarius: The Water-Bearer (January 20 – February 18)
   • Deity: GANYMEDE, cupbearer of the gods
2. Pisces: The Fish (February 19 - March 20)
   • Deity: APHRODITE & EROS, goddess of love & god of desire
3. Aries: The Ram (March 21 – April 19)
   • Deity: ARES, god of war
4. Taurus: The Bull (April 20 – May 20)
   • Deity: ZEUS, king of the gods
5. Gemini: The Twins (May 21 – June 20)
   • Deity: APOLLO & ARTEMIS, the divine siblings
6. Cancer: The Crab (June 21 – July 22)
   • Deity: HERA, queen of the gods
7. Leo: The Lion (July 23 – August 22)
   • Deity: ZEUS, king of the gods
8. Virgo: The Virgin (August 23 – September 22)
   • Deity: DEMETER, goddess of agriculture
9. Libra: The Scales (September 23 – October 22)
   • Deity: THEMIS, goddess of justice
10. Scorpio: The Scorpion (October 23 – November 21)
    • Deity: ARTEMIS, goddess of the hunt
11. Sagittarius: The Archer (November 22 – December 21)
    • Deity: APOLLO, the archer
12. Capricorn: The Sea-Goat (December 22 – January 19)
    • Deity: PAN, god of the wild

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