Alexandre Dumas

Venus, Jupiter and Saturn sit inside two and a half degrees of Virgo, which is a very tight group of three, and the Sun sits on the first degree of Leo. Earth takes four of his ten planets, water three, air two and a single one fire, with five of the ten mutable. The record says Dumas wrote The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo with a workshop of collaborators and an output nobody has fully catalogued, and that his father was a general born to an enslaved woman in Saint-Domingue.

Jupiter sits conjunct Saturn at over half a degree inside that group, and the reading is ambition and realism in one: somebody who builds steadily and large, whose optimism has a structure under it. A novelist who ran a workshop of collaborators and produced more than anybody has managed to catalogue was building steadily and large with a structure under it, and the structure was other people. That is the plainest fit in this chart, and the record supplies both halves of it.

This chart also holds three T-squares and not one of them can be used. All three run through the Moon, which sits on the third degree of Gemini at noon with Taurus still possible, so the Moon is left out and every figure in the chart goes with it. Three closed figures lost to a single unknown hour is the heaviest price a missing birth time has charged anywhere in this project, and it is worth stating rather than quietly reporting a chart with no patterns in it.

Jupiter sits in direct opposition to Pluto at under a third of a degree, ambition and force colliding: overreaching for control, and growth pursued past the point where it is good for anybody, which in a man whose output nobody has counted is a reading a reader can take two ways. Jupiter also sits a fifth of a turn from Neptune at under half a degree, generous imagination. The record's second sentence, a father who was a general born to an enslaved woman, is a fact about two other lives and no part of this chart. Mercury, Neptune and Pluto were the three retrograde planets. He died at Puys on 5 December 1870, at sixty eight. Nothing came inside three tenths of a degree of a natal planet that day, and the Moon was gibbous and ninety four per cent lit.