Our Sweet Lady and Swan Brethren

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My ancestor, Godschalk Rosemondt, was the Master of Louvain and the Falcon Art College, as well as member of the Swan Brethren.

A Rosamond family researcher has seen letters exchanged between Godschalk Rosemondt and the great Erasmus with the seal of a dancing wolf upon them. This is a Bosch seal related somehow to the Janskirk church where attended members of the Swan Brethren. The Renaissance artist, Hieronymus Bosch, executed commissions for the Brethren and their church. One such work is titled the Seven Deadly Sins which is the subject matter of Rosemondt’s book ‘Confessionals’.


Rosemondt’s good friend, Pope Adrien, has been anointed the Vicar of Christ. Before that he led the Inquisition in Holland. He was the tutor of Charles Quint whose cote of arms in seen next to Rosemondt’s Rose Name, that looks very much like the rose emblem of the Swan Brethren that today, only Hollands royalty can wear, except, this rose is in full bloom. This suggest Rosemondt is the Master Rose Swan.

Rosemond is the Master of Louvian, and the Falcon Art College. He is a Renaissance Art professors and theologian that I found frozen in time, he waiting for almost four hundred years for a gifted ancestor to be born, an artist and thesliagon that could recognise him, a Lily amongst the thorns. Here is he motto on the rose:

2:2. As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters.

Sicut lilium inter spinas sic amica mea inter filias

1164/ To Godschalk Rosemondt

This undated letter follows Ep 1153 and Erasmus’s visit to Cologne.

It also report an event that took place on 25 November. It was published in the Epistle ad diversoss.


I have no desire to interrupt you so often with a letter, and yet it
is better for us both. We had enjoyed silence for a time from the
Frisian Domnican who put a gloss long ago on my Moria and since on
my Antibarbari, pouring every sort of rant and calummy on my name
and reputation. And he supposes he is doing right, for this reason
if no other, that I have touched on monks in what I write, although
I always refrain from the outrageous tales told of them too often –
and let us hope, without foundation – by common report, and repeated
of late at the crowded dinner table of the cardinal of Sion, and
have always avoided names of men and even of orders.

. . 1153/ To Godschalk
Rosemondt Louvain 18 October

Gottschalk Rosemondt of Eindhoven in Northern Brabant, matriculated
at the University of Louvain on 1499 and remained there until his
death in 1526. A doctor of divinity in 1516, he succeeded in 1520 to
the chair o f theology formerly held by Jan Briart. Like Briart he
was a personal friend of the future Pope Adrian V1. His prominent
position in the theological faculty notwithstanding , he retained an
open mind towards humanists studies and a measure of sympathy for
Erasmus. This letter is addressed to him in his capacity as rector
of the university for the winter term of 1520-21 (cf Matricule de
Louvain 111-1963) It was published in the Epistolae ad diverse.

In preparation for a confrontations with the theologian Nicolass
Baechem Egmondanus, to be held in the presence of the rector,
Erasmus launches an elaborate protest against his opponent, who had
attacked him from the pulpit of St, Peter’s church on 9 and 14
October, cf Ep 1162s

1162/ To Thomas
More Louvain
November? 1520

This letter give a spirited account between Erasmus and Nicolas
Baechem Egmondanus before the rector of the of the university of
Louvain, Godschlak Rosemondt. Printed in the Epistle ad diverse, it
was no doubt composed with a wider public in mind; Thomas More, to
whom it is addressed, need not have been told at length an episode
of which he was himself a protagonist. Erasmus also described the
confrontation with Baecahmen in Ep 1173:29-109


The story that has reached you about my little dispute with Nicolaus
Egdmondanus in the pressed of the rector of this university is not
wholly true, and yet not quite devoid of truth; such is the way of
rumor, which likes to enhance the facts and tell the story with a
difference. Nor are he and I so much at variance that I would
willingly see him the victim of false reports. So here is the true
story, since I see that in your part of the world you are so idle
you can find time to follow the silly things we do here.

I had written to the rector of the university to protest against the
attacks made on me by Egmondamus in the pulpit and he wrote back
that if I was prepared to listen in person while he did his tale
unfold, we might perhaps come to some agreement. I replied that I
had no objection, though well aware that no lasting good would come
of it. So we met, and the rector took the chair, with me on the
right and Egmondamus on the left. This arrangement was not without
point. He knew Egmondamu’s temperament, and of me he had quite the
wrong idea: he thought I was capable of losing my temper. So he sat
between us, to keep the combatants apart. There upon the rector
opened the subject in a few words, and then, with a countenance of
wonderful and comical gravity Egmondanus began: `I have spoken ill
of no man in my sermon. If Erasmus thinks he has suffered an injury,
let him declare it, and I will answer him.’I asked him whether there
could be a more atrocious injury that to traduce an innocent man in
a public sermon with a string of lies. That roused him at once;
dropping the mask he assumed, and almost purple in the face (his
face was red already, for it was after dinner), `And why, pray, says
he. `do you traduce me in your religious books, `I replied, `your
name is never mentioned.’ Nor has your,’ he retorted, `ever been
uttered in my sermons.’ I denied that my books were religious books,
for in them I set down my down my own imaginings and write whatever
come into my head – a thing, I added, which is not allowed in the
pulpit. `Beside which’, I said’ `I have written for less about you
then the facts warrant. You have told lies about me in public,
calling me a supporter of Luther, whom I have never supported in the
sense that the public reads into your words and you mean yourself.’
By this time he was not merely exited, he was like a madman. `No,
no’, he shouted, `you are behind the whole lot. You are the slippery
customer, the double-dealer; you can twist everything somehow by the
tail.’ And he spewed up, rather than uttered, much more of the same
kind, which glittering bile at the moment put into his head.

I felt my own hackles rising, and already let out a word which was
the forerunner of rather intemperate language, not exactly `Thou
fool’ but something of the sort that would smell worse then it
sounds. But I controlled myself instantly, thinking it better to
respect my won health ( for I was poorly) and that of the rector,
who was also in the doctor’s hands, beside which it seemed foolish
and undignified to answer a madman in his own language.. So I turned
to the rector with a smile and said,’ I could bring evidence of his
outrageous calumnies, and I could return his abuse. He calls me
slippery; I could call him in my turn a fox..

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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