My grandparents sough a alternative reality in California. So did I.


Norbert And Mary Magdalene

Posted onAugust 27, 2021byRoyal Rosamond Press

Yesterday I owned a very clear picture of Garth and Drew Benton in Christine Benton’s home, while my family was at the funeral. I just woke up from my old man nap, and I was at 13th. Street where I lived with The Loading Zone. The young Rena was asleep in the attic room. I couldn’t wait to see her face again. I awoke, and, I was just dreaming.

I have conducted the most magnificent piece of Detective Work – in history! I own the view of my destiny from my grandparents eyes. I have overcome one of the greatest obstacles a human being can encounter. Total Illusionists had invaded the World of Art and Literature, and I exposed them. I uncovered them. Now, I will bury them in a great work of literature. True History and True love of art, will be cleansed.

John Presco

President: Royal Rosamond Press

Hard-boiled Wit:
Ludwig Wittgenstein and Norbert Davis

Josef Hoffmann

  1.  Introduction: Wittgenstein read Davis

Rosro Cottage
Renvyle P.O.
Co Galway


Dear Norman,

Thanks a lot for the detective mags.  I had, before they arrived, been reading a detective story by Dorothy Sayers, and it was so bl… foul that it depressed me.  Then when I opened one of your mags it was like getting out of a stuffy room into the fresh air.  And, talking of detective fiction, I’d like you to make an enquiry for me when once you’ve got nothing better to do.  A couple of years ago I read with great pleasure a detective story called Rendezvous With Fear by a man Norbert Davis.  I enjoyed it so much that I gave it not only to Smythies but also to Moore to read and both shared my high opinion of it.  For, though, as you know, I’ve read hundreds of stories that amused me and that I liked reading, I think I’ve only read two perhaps that I’d call good stuff, and Davis’s is one of them.  Some weeks ago I found it again by a queer coincidence in a village in Ireland, it has appeared in an edition called ‘Cherry Tree books’, something like ‘Penguin’.  Now I’d like you to ask at a bookshop if Norbert Davis has written other books, and what kind.  (He’s an American.)  It may sound crazy, but when I recently re-read the story I liked it again so much that I thought I’d really like to write to the author and thank him.  If this is nuts don’t be surprised, for so am I.  I shouldn’t be surprised if he had written quite a lot and only this one story were really good.



This letter is quoted in Norman Malcolm’s book Ludwig Wittgenstein: A Memoir.  Malcolm added the following footnote after Norbert Davis’s name: “As I recall, I was unable to obtain any information about this author.”

The American philosopher Norman Malcolm was a student of Wittgenstein’s at Cambridge and later became a much esteemed correspondence partner and supplier of the latest detective pulps from the United States.  It would appear, however, that Malcolm did not take his friend Ludwig’s desire to read more by Davis all that seriously.  In 1948 he could have got hold of some short stories and books by Norbert Davis without much difficulty.  After years of writing for the pulp magazines, Davis had managed in the 1940s to have his detective stories published in book form.  Between 1943 and 1947 four such books appeared: The Mouse in the Mountain (1943; the paperback issues were called Rendezvous with Fear and Dead Little Rich Girl); Sally’s in the Alley (1943); Oh Murderer Mine (1946); Murder Picks the Jury (1947).

Meher Baba Wants Marin Ashram

Posted onFebruary 26, 2021byRoyal Rosamond Press

Happy Birthday!

In posting on the giant oaks of Belmont in Janke Park, I got a clear idea from Meher Baba that he wants the Buck Foundation to found an ashram to the great teachers from India who came to California. They are, Baba, Krishnamurti, and Yogananda. This would honrr te religion of Kamala Harris the first Vice President born in California.

John Presco

Meher Baba & Giovanni Francis of Assisi

Posted on December 14, 2017 by Royal Rosamond Press

To discover Saint Francis was name John (Giovanni) by he mother, who I now consider to have been a Nazarite Mother after Hannah, Elizabeth, and Samson’s in-named mother, I might own proof there is a God. I am not offering a sublime rapture of spiritual feelings, nor do I seek any followers. My hand has been forced. God has taken everything from me in His Election. Job and Jonah and I have much in common.

My grandmother, Mary Magdalene Rosamond, visited the Ojai Center and made friends with members of the Theosophical Society that suggested Khrishnamurti was the Second Christ. I suspect Mary looked at me as a candidate.

The felling of Baba’s oak nearby, tells me there is a great spiritual wind and fire that is electing God’s People in a way I will describe to you. Consider Elijah being taken up in a Chariot of Fire.

Giovanni ‘The Nazarite’

Meher Baba and Saint Francis

Posted on February 10, 2014by Royal Rosamond Press

Greg 1974 Vicki

“Saint Francis of Assisi was the only one of the very few saints in Europe to become a Perfect Master.”

Just before Jesus died, he said; “I am thirsty.” The first thing I said when I came back to life, after seeing the Lord, was; “I’m thirsty.”

Consider Mary Dominica Wieneke and the Order of Saint Francis. In searching for the Blue Angel that appeared to my sisters while they slept, and Kay Coakley, I look to my aunt, June Rice, who took care of me while I had the hooping cough. I almost died several times. I was eleven. I had turned blue and my fingers were contorted when I came into the living room where my aunt Lillian and uncle Dick were sitting. Lillian screamed, and Dick started hitting me on my back.

When June would come to my bed in her nightgown, I saw a blue glow coming from her abdomen. She could not have a child due to some operations. She and Vinnie treated me like their child, and were my patrons. June was a devout Catholic.
I suspect this blue angel is associated with Mother Mary. I wondered if it was her ghost. But, I believe it is the Angel that came to Saint Francis when he died during a terrible illness, and came back.

I suspect I am the embodiment of Saint Francis. When I read about Baba coming to the true cave of Saint Francis, all of a sudden I had a vision. I was sitting in that cave. I heard the dry summer grass being stepped upon. Suddenly Baba’s face is beaming at me. I reached out my wounded hand and cried;


Not the energy around me (click on photo to enlarge) Christine and Brian took photos of me because Christine wanted to do her first portrait of a male. She developed both rolls, and was shocked to see this energy in every image of me. she did not do my portrait because of it.

Baba told his disciples not to touch him when he came out of the cave. Above is Vicki mocking me while I am doing my secret work. She is reaching out with her finger to touch me while I have my eyes closed.

Jon Gregory

Dinner At Dante Rossetti’s

Posted on February 27, 2020 by Royal Rosamond Press

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I am heir to the literary kingdoms of Tolkien, Fleming, and London. When I searched the internet for a replacement muse of Rena Easton, I gasped when I saw the three photographs of Lara Roozemond. If she was born in another time, and she came upon them, The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood would have fought bloody battles over her. Would Joaquin Miller join the fray?

There is a debate over the source of the name Rosamond. Some say it means “rose mouth”. Lara’s lips are like rose blossoms.

John Presco

Dinner at Rossetti’s
by Joaquin Miller
There is no thing that hath not worth;
There is no evil anywhere;
There is no ill on all this earth,
If man seeks not to see it there.
September 28. I cannot forget that dinner with Dante Gabriel Rossetti, just before leaving London, nor can I hope to recall its shining and enduring glory. I am a better, larger man, because of it. And how nearly our feet are set on the same way. It was as if we were all crossing the plains, and I for a day’s journey and a night’s encampment fell in with and conversed with the captains of the march.
But one may not gave names and dates and details over there as here. The home is entirely a castle. The secrets of the board and fireside are sacred. And then these honest toilers and worshippers of the beautiful are shy, so shy and modest. But I like this decent English way of keeping your name down and out of sight till the coffin-lid hides your blushes–so modest these Pre-Raphaelites are that I should be in disgrace forever if I dared set down any living man’s name.
But here are a few of the pearls picked up, as they were tossed about the table at intervals and sandwiched in between tales of love and lighter thoughts and things.
All London, or rather all the brain of London, the literary brain, was there. And the brain of all the world, I think, was in London. These giants of thought, champions of the beautiful earth, passed the secrets of all time and all lands before me like a mighty panorama. All night sol We dined so late that we missed breakfast. If I could remember and write down truly and exactly what these men said, I would have the best and the greatest book that ever was written, I have been trying a week in vain, I have written down and scratched out and revised till I have lost the soul of it, it seems to me; no individuality to it; only like my own stuff. If I only had set their words down on the next day instead of attempting to remember their thoughts! Alas! the sheaves have been tossed and beaten about over sea and land for days and days, till the golden grain is gone, and here is but the straw and chaff.
The master sat silent for the most part; there was a little man away down at the other end, conspicuously modest. There was a cynical fat man, and a lean philanthropist all sorts and sizes, but all lovers of the beautiful of earth. Here is what one, a painter, a ruddy-faced and a rollicking gentleman, remarked merrily to me as he poured out a glass of red wine at the beginning of the dinner:
“When travelling in the mountains of Italy, I observed that the pretty peasant women made the wine by putting grapes m a great tub, and then, getting into this tub, barefooted, on top of the grapes, treading them out with their brown, bare feet. At first I did not like to drink this wine. I did not think it was clean. But I afterward watched these pretty brown women” and here all leaned to listen, at the mention of pretty brown women– I watched these pretty brown women at their work in the primitive winepress, and I noticed that they always washed their feet after they got done treading out the wine.”
All laughed at this, and the red-faced painter was so delighted that he poured out and swallowed another full glass. The master sighed as he sat at the head of the table rolling a bit of bread between thumb and finger, and said, sitting close to me: “I am an Italian who has neven seen Italy. Belle Italia!…”
By and by he quietly said that silence was the noblest attitude in all things; that the greatest poets refused to write, and that all great artists in all lines were above the folly of expression. A voice from far down the table echoed this sentiment by saying:”Heard melodies are sweet; but unheard melodies are sweeter.” “Written poems are delicious; but unwritten poems are divine,” cried the triumphant cynic. “What is poetry?” cries a neighbor. “All true, pure life is poetry,” answers one. “But the inspiration of poetry?” “The art of poetry is in books. The inspiration of poetry in nature.” To this all agreed.
Then the master very quietly spoke: “And yet do not despise the books of man. All religions, said the Chinese philosophers, are good. The only difference is, some religions are better than others, and the apparent merit of each depends largely upon a mans capacity for understanding it. This is true of .poetry. All poetry is good. I never read a poem in my life that did not have some merit, and teach some sweet lesson. The fault in reading the poems of man, as well as reading the poetry of nature, lies largely at the door of the reader. Now, what do you call poetry?” and he turned his great Italian eyes tenderly to where I sat at his side.
To me a poem must be a picture,” I answered.
Proud I was when a great poet then said: “And it must be a picture–if a good poem so simple that you can understand it at a glance, eh? And see it and remember it as you would see and remember a sunset, eh?” “Aye,” answered the master, “I also demand that it shall be lofty in sentiment and sublime in expression. The only rule I have for measuring the merits of a written poem, is by the height of it. Why not be able to measure its altitude as you measure one of your sublime peaks of America?”
He looked at me as he spoke of America, and I was encouraged to answer:”Yes, I do not want to remember the words. But I do want it to remain with me a picture and become a part of my life. Take this one verse from Mr. Longfellow:
“And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares that infest the day
Shall fold their tents like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.’”
“Good!” cried the fat cynic, who, I am sure, had never heard the couplet before, it was so sweet to him; “Good! There is a picture that will depart from no impressible clay. The silent night, the far sweet melody falling on the weary mind, the tawny picturesque Arabs stealing away m the darkness, the perfect peace, the stillness and the rest. It appeals to all the Ishmaelite in our natures, and all the time we see the tents gathered up and the silent children of the desert gliding away in the gloaming.”
A transplanted American, away down at the other end by a little man among bottles, said: “The poem of Evangeline is a succession of pictures. I never read Evangeline but once.” “It is a waste of time to look twice at a sunset,” said Rossetti, sotto voce, and the end man went on: “But i believe I can see every picture in that poem as distinctly as if I had been the unhappy Arcadian; for here the author has called in ail the elements that go to make up a perfect poem.”
“When the great epic of this new, solid Saxon tongue comes to be written,” said one who sat near and was dear to the master’s heart, “it will embrace all that this embraces: new and unnamed lands; ships on the sea; the still deep waters hidden away in a deep and voiceless continent; the fresh and fragrant wilderness; the curling smoke of the camp-fire; action, movement, journeys; the presence–the inspiring presence of woman; the ennobl- ing sentiment of love, devotion, and devotion to the death; faith, hope and charity,- and all in the open air.”
“Yes,” said the master thoughtfully, ‘no great poem has ever been or ever will be fitted in a parlor, or even fashioned from a city. There is not room for it there.”
“Hear! hear! you might as well try to grow a California pine in the shell of a peanut,” cried I. Some laughed, some applauded, all looked curiously at me. Of course, I did not say it that well, yet I did say it far better, I mean I did not use the words carefully, but I had the advantage of action and sympathy.
Then the master said, after a bit of reflection: “Homer’s Ulysses, out of which have grown books enough to cover the earth, owes its immortality to all this, and its out-door exercise. Yet it is a bloody book a bad book, in many respects–full of revenge, treachery, avarice and wrong. And old Ulysses himself seems to have been the most colossal liar on record. But for all this, the constant change of scene, the moving ships and the roar of waters, the rush of battle and the anger of the gods, the divine valor of the hero, and, above all, and over all, like a broad, white-bosomed moon through the broken clouds, the splendid life of that one woman; the shining faith, the constancy, the truth and purity of Penelope–all these make a series of pictures that pass before us like a panorama, and we will not leave off reading till we have seen them all happy together again, and been assured that the faith and constancy of that woman has had it reward. And we love him, even if he does lie!”
How all at that board leaned and listened. Yet let me again and again humbly confess to you that I do him such injustice to try thus to quote from memory. After a while he said: “Take the picture of the old, blind, slobber-mouthed dog, that has been driven forth by the wooers to die. For twenty years he has not heard the voice of his master. The master now comes, in the guise of a beggar. The dog knows his voice, struggles to rise from the ground, staggers toward him, licks his hand, falls, and dies at his feet.”
Such was the soul, heart, gentleness of this greatest man that I ever saw walking in the fields of art….

Phillip Boilleau and Christine Rosamond Benton

Posted on February 17, 2018 by Royal Rosamond Press

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The artist, Philip Boileau, was the son Susan Taylor Virginia McDowell Benton, the sister of Jessie Benton, the daughter of Thomas Hart Benton, whose grandson was the famous artist of the same name, who was the cousin of Garth Benton, who married Christine Rosamond Presco, who is kin to Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor, according to Jimmy Rosamond, the Rosamond Family genealogists.

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Philip Boileau was a Canadian-born Art Nouveau illustrator known for his watercolor and pastel drawings of Victorian-era women. His most famous piece, Peggy (1903), was modeled after his wife, the famed actress Emily Gilbert. Like the American artist Harrison Fisher, Boileau’s pieces appeared in magazines, on postcards, and porcelain. Born on June 7, 1863 in Quebec, Canada, he received most of his education in the United Kingdom as a young man, before moving to Baltimore, MD, in 1897. Having established himself as a portrait painter in both Baltimore and Philadelphia, Boileau moved to New York. His illustrations of dignified women became a part of popular culture and the moniker, “Boileau Girls”, became a colloquial term to describe women. The artist died at 53 on January 18, 1917 in Douglas Manor, NY.

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Royal Rosamond holding Bonnie.

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Philip Boileau and Christine Rosamond

Posted on May 19, 2012by Royal Rosamond Press

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Thomas is kin to Garth, Drew, and Christine Rosamond Benton, as well as Philip Boileau, son of Susan Benton, sister of Jessie Benton Fremont.

Susan Benton at La Caze

Posted on September 11, 2013by Royal Rosamond Press


Susan Benton Boilleau died in Paris. She gave birth to seven children of which there is no history, but for the artist, Philip Boilleau. Her husband, Charles Henri Philippe GAULDRÉE-BOILLEAU, was arrested for some railroad scheme involving his brother-in-law, John Fremont, why may have been blamed for Boilleau’s downfall.

The artist, Philip Boileau, was the son Susan Taylor Virginia McDowell Benton, the sister of Jessie Benton, the daughter of Thomas Hart Benton, whose grandson was the famous artist of the same name, who was the cousin of Garth Benton, who married Christine Rosamond Presco, who is kin to Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor, according to Jimmy Rosamond, the Rosamond Family genealogists.

Elizabeth Taylor appeared on the cover of LIFE magazine, and was on the cover of numerous magazines, as were the beautiful women painted by Boileau, that resemble Rosamond Women. No one, but I, knew of these relations after the death of the world famous artist ‘Rosamond’.

Recently two paintings by Andy Warhol of Liz Taylor sold for a hundred million dollars. ‘The Men In Her Life’ sold for $60,000,000 million dollars. Eddie Fisher is in this Warhol work, he the father of the actress , Carrie Fischer, who wrote a screenplay about my later sister, who is the mother of the artists, Drew Benton.

Christine and Drew are kin to John Fremont who was a co-founder of Republican Party, and its first Presidential Candidate.

At Hollywood’s Temple Israel, on March 27, 1959, Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor converted to Judaism whose genealogies are found in both books of the Bible. Elizabeth is our Family Madonna, who if alive, would lead Beautiful Women in battle against the Evangelical Mormon Axis of Evil, who wage a War on Women, the elderly, the hungry, and the poor.

Christine Rosamond Benton, and Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor, are in America’s Family Tree, the foremont genealogy of American and Judaic History – not to mention Art History. Jessie and Susan Benton held Salons in San Francisco and Paris. Gottschalk Rosemont, was a the Master of ‘The Falcon’ art college, and was a Renaissance teacher of art and religious history. Liz Taylor and her uncle had fabulous art collections. Garth and Christine Benton, were friends of J.Paul Getty. We are talking about the Rose of the World family Art Dynasty. Consider the Roza Mira prophecy.

Jon Presco

Copyright 2012

Celebrity death and marketability go hand and hand, which could bode well for the unidentified private owner whose sale of an iconic Andy Warhol painting of Elizabeth Taylor was announced Thursday by the auction house Phillips de Pury & Co.

The estimated price for “Liz #5,” painted in 1963, is $20 million to $30 million. Is this a bid to exploit Taylor’s death?

View Elizabeth Rosamond Taylor, Dame’s complete profile:
See if you are related to Elizabeth Rosamond Taylor, Dame
Request to view Elizabeth Rosamond Taylor, Dame’s family tree

When dealing with the salons, historians have traditionally focused upon the role of women within them.[28] Works in the nineteenth and much of the twentieth century often focused on the scandals and ‘petty intrigues’ of the salons.[29] Other works from this period focused on the more positive aspects of women in the salon.[30] Indeed, according to Jolanta T. Pekacz, the fact women dominated history of the salons meant that study of the salons was often left to amateurs, while men concentrated on ‘more important’ (and masculine) areas of the Enlightenment.[31]

Never has there been such a wonderous day as today in regards to my
genealogical research. I have found another artist lost in our Family
Tree. Philip Boileau is the son of Baron Gauldree Boileau who married
Susan Benton, the daughter of Senator Thomas Hart Benton, and sister
to Jesse Benton who married the ‘Pathfinder’ and Presidential
candidate, John Freemont. My late sister, the artist Christine
Rosamond Benton, married the cousin of the famous artist, Thomas Hart
Benton, and thus one can find Philip Boileau “the painter of fair
women” in the same family tree as Rosamond, the name she used to sign
her portraits of beautiful and fair women that bare an uncanny
resemblance to her predecessor – though she never saw his work!

This is due no doubt to the work of Gibson of the ‘Gibson Girls’
fame, that we as children admired. A book of Gibson’s work was kept
with magazines from the twenties and thirties wherein were published
the short stories of our grandfather, Royal Reuben Rosamond, who self-
published four novels about the Ozark folks, and like the artist,
Thomas Hart Benton, was good friends with the Ozark historian, Otto

Philip Boileau self-published his work ‘Peggy’ as it was considered
too innovative. His portrait of a young man ‘Youth’ appeared on the
cover of Post magazine on April 19,1913. I suspect Philip had an
influence on Norman Rockwell who used the same empty spaces that were
peculiar to Philip’s work. As a profound coincidence, these spaces
made my sister famous.

In filling in the blanks, and while doing the Family Tree, I
discovered Philip, he too dying a untimely death at the height of his
success. When one now beholds the work of those who are kin to the
Bentons, one knows this family is blessed with a love for beauty as
found in America, in the dreams of those who sought safety and
Democracy within our shores. May the Quest of those who look for such
fair wonders, never end.

Jon Presco

Copyright 2003

The most mimicked image in the world (Mime Mundi) is THE ROSE. I wrote this twenty years ago;
“After God made the world, He began to make His rose, but, left it undone for His Man to finish so he can present it to the Woman he loves.”
Man and woman kind have made many species of the rose, but, is there an archetypal rose?
Above we see the beautiful women of Philip Boileau “The painter of fair women”. He is my kin, he the son of Susan Benton and Baron Boileau. Next to Boileau’s women, are the women of the artist Sara Moon, who is a man who mimicked the rosy images of my late sister, Christine Rosamond Benton. Sara’s woman with scarf looks like my mother, Rosemary Rosamond, who is kin to Baron Boileau who owned a fabulous art collection that was gather in the wake of Napoleon’s conquests. Rosemary’s son-in-law is Garth Benton, a muralist and cousin to the artist, Thomas Hart Benton. Is Rosemary the archetypal rose? No! But, her mother, Mary Magdalene Rosamond, is! You can not own a more archetypal rose name, other then Mary Rose of the World ‘Mother of God and Lord Jesus Creator of the World and Universe’!
One can conclude God made Mary perfect so He could come to earth and be a mortal – for just a little while! Because we mortals did not recognize Jesus as an immortal, we tortured God and put a wreath of thorns upon His head, and thus He is sometimes called ‘The Rose of Sharon’.
Having a blueprint of perfection, all of humanity is bid to BE LIKE JESUS, but too much like Jesus! There can only be ONE JESUS! All imitators will be tied to a stake and burned alive! NO MIMES – PLEASE!

Although Elizabeth was raised a Christian Scientist, she converted to Judaism at Hollywood’s Temple Israel on March 27, 1959. Although she wanted to convert to the Jewish faith while Mike Todd was alive, her desire to do so reached a fever pitch after his tragic death. Elizabeth wrote: “Now, in my steady, gnawing grief for Mike, I felt a desperate need for a formalized religion. I had discovered that I had no way of expressing myself in prayer other than an almost wordless howl to God—’Oh, God, oh God, oh God.’ I wanted something more channeled, more profound, more satisfying.” Elizabeth said she had always felt a connection towards the Jewish faith. “I felt terribly sorry for the suffering of the Jews during the war. I was attracted to their heritage. I guess I identified with them as underdogs.” According to Elizabeth, she “studied for about nine months, went to the temple regularly and converted.” Elizabeth’s Hebrew name is Elisheba Rachel. Elizabeth has always been very proud of her adopted faith—finding great comfort and peace in her adopted religion.

The Call of Gold (1936) by Newell D. Chamberlain

Through the formation of the Wall Street corporation, Fremont realized at least two million dollars. Had the Company not been wrecked within such a short time, he would have made even more.

After the Civil War, he devoted his time and fortune to the promotion of overland transportation. He laid the foundation of the Kansas and Pacific Railroad, the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad, and the Memphis and Pacific Railroad, in the last of which, through the misconduct of French agents in Paris, his fortune was really lost.

While promoting railroads, he and his family lived luxuriously. He had been so greatly benefited by the stock-selling scheme of the Mariposa Company that he thought he could be successful in promoting stock to build railroads. Being only a visionary dreamer, however, with no practical experience in corporate financing, he became an easy mark for shrewd schemers.

His Memphis and El Paso Railroad had been chartered by the State of Texas and given 18,000,000 acres of land, on the strength of which, bonds were floated. Several millions of dollars worth of these bonds were sold in France, but the agents and banking house kept forty per cent, leaving but sixty per cent for the building of the proposed railroad.

In 1870, the Company became insolvent and Fremont and many of his friends lost everything, to say nothing of the losses sustained by thousands who had purchased stock on the glittering representations of agents. Fremont’s inside knowledge as to the condition of the Company gave him advance information of the impending failure and he could have used that knowledge to save a part of his fortune, had he been dishonest.

The following article appeared in the Mariposa Gazette of April 17, 1874:

“Fremont’s brother-in-law, Baron Boileau, who was sentenced to imprisonment by a Memphis and El Paso R. R. affair, is confined in the conciergerie in Paris. Mme. Boileau and her six children were at last accounts at Boulogne, dependent on the generosity of friends.

“Nine or ten years ago, Baron Boileau was the French consul at New York City, trusted, respected, popular and accomplished. While there, he married Susan, daughter of Colonel Thomas H. Benton, who served thirty years in the United States Senate and who was long the political autocrat of Missouri. The marriage was happy. After his union with Miss Benton, Baron Boileau was appointed French minister to Ecuador, but certain acts of his while Consul at New York were brought to the notice of the government and led to his recall from Ecuador and his discharge from his country’s service.

“While in New York, he became involved in railroad schemes and was induced to recommend, in his capacity as an official agent of the French government, the negotiation of the Memphis and El Paso Railroad bonds. It was for this plain violation of the country’s law, that his government, rigid in such matters, recalled, discharged, fined, imprisoned, in short, ruined him.

“The same Court, which tried him, found General Fremont guilty of raising money on the Memphis and El Paso R. R. bonds, by false representations and sentenced him to serve a year in prison. He made good his escape from France and is beyond the reach of the French Government, it being a strange fact, that although France and America upheld a common cause and fought side by side on fields of battle, they have with each other no extradition treaty.

“Mrs. Fremont was the favorite daughter of Colonel Benton, a woman of rare accomplishments and great ambition. Her hopes have withered; she beholds, as the result of an unfortunate speculation, her husband, who once almost grasped the highest prize in this country’s gift, declared a felon by a friendly Republic and the devoted companion of her sister, hurled from a high pinnacle into ruin and disgrace. How marvelous and melancholy are some of time’s mutations?”

It was later proven that Fremont was not guilty of misrepresentation in the sale of bonds in France. That he acted with absolute honesty but with a lamentable shortness of business judgment, was proven by a letter sent him by the unfriendly Receiver of the defunct company, which read as follows: “I deem it fair that throughout the long and careful scrutiny which I have made into the affairs of the company, I have found no proof that would sustain the charges brought against you, regarding the fraudulent sale of the company’s bonds in France.”

Fremont had proven a dismal failure as a business man and had wrecked many of his friends and relatives.

In 1878, he was appointed Governor of Arizona Territory, by President Hayes, and served four years, at a salary of $2000 a year. On his way out to assume his duties, he visited San Francisco and was given a reception by the Society of California Pioneers.

Early in 1890, in view of his services to his country, as explorer, administrator and soldier, Congress restored him to the rank of Major-General, and then placed him on the retired list, at a salary of $6000 a year. This was the first time for many years that he could enjoy a comfortable income.

On May 9th, he went to the Treasury Department to ask that his salary be not retained to meet a supposed old debt, when he was informed that the Government actually owed him $21,000 and that a clerical error forty years previous had been responsible for making it appear that he was indebted to the Government for $19,000. When he received the news, he fainted, but soon revived as he was handed a warrant for the amount due. He did not live very long to enjoy his new competency, for on July 13th, he passed away, at the home of his adopted daughter in New York City. The high distinction of being “Major-General, U. S. A.” was cut on his tombstone and it will be recalled that the same title appeared after his name on the deed when he signed away his Mariposa Estate for a consideration of over six millions of dollars.

The Nation will always be indebted to him for his important part in the opening up of the far western country, comprising half a continent. During the years, 1842 to 1847, with the famous Kit Carson, as guide, he made three expeditions through the then almost unknown regions between the Missouri River and the Pacific Ocean, in which, his daring and fortitude, amid unfriendly savages, through hazardous mountain wilds and inhospitable deserts, have seldom been surpassed.

He has been appropriately termed the “West’s Greatest Pathfinder”. Undoubtedly, he did more to open up the far western country than any other man and his detailed and accurate descriptions of that vast region helped to save many lives during the first great overland gold rush. In addition, his promptness, combined with his energy and patriotism, and that of his followers, saved California from becoming a British possession. English Admiral Seymour afterwards declared that if he had arrrived with his fleet a few days sooner at Monterey, the flag of England would have floated over California, all in accordance with a plan arranged by British Consul Forbes and Emissary Priest Macnamara.

For his services, in geographic and scientific discovery, he was recognized and rewarded by the Royal Geographic Societies of both London and Berlin. In 1861, he was chosen by the King of Prussia to be a Knight of the Society of Merit, to fill a vacancy caused by the death of Macauley. Another noteworthy distinction, which he prized, was the friendship of Baron von Humboldt, the great German geographer and explorer, who founded the modern science of physical geography.

Major-General Fremont should have been one of the wealthiest men in the United States. His patent to the vast Mariposa Estate, rich in mineral wealth, made him several times a millionaire, but he lacked the business ability to keep his money. He was a dreamer and his philosophy of life is best expressed in a letter which he once wrote to his wife; “There are two Gods which are very dear to me, Hope and Sleep. Both make the time pass lightly.” He was successful in some things, but a failure in other things. He tried to play too many parts, yet the God of Hope always cheered him


Baron Charles Henri Philip Gauldree De Boilleau was born 1823 in Toulouse, France. He married Susan Taylor Virginia McDowell Benton June 04, 1855 in Washington D.C.. He died in February, 1894. Susan Taylor Virginia McDowell Benton, daughter of Senator Thomas Hart Benton and Elizabeth McDowell , was born 1833 in Cherry Grove, Rockbridge Co., VA. She died March 08, 1874 in Paris, France.

Children of Baron Charles Henri Philip Gauldree De Boilleau and Susan Taylor Virginia McDowell Benton are:
1. Pensee De Boilleau, b. abt. 1856

2. Benton Gauldree De Boilleau, b. in February, 1858
See Benton Gauldree De Boilleau & Marie Bedient De Guion
3. Charles Gauldree De Boilleau, b. abt. 1862

4. Peggy Girl Philip Gauldree Boilleau, b. July 17, 1863
See Peggy Girl Philip Gauldree Boilleau & Emily Gilbert
5. Desiree De Boilleau, b. abt. 1866

6. Hubert Leon McDowell De Boilleau, b. September 19, 1868

7. Mary De Boilleau

8. Pauline De Boilleau

Notes for Baron Charles Henri Philip Gauldree De Boilleau:
Name: Baron Charles Henri Philip Gauldree De Boilleau
Born: 1823 Toulouse, France
Died: in February, 1894
Sources for Baron Charles Henri Philip Gauldree De Boilleau:
1. Tony Rockefeller Genealogist and Historian on the Hightower Family, Date of Import: 30 Mar 2006

Notes for Susan Taylor Virginia McDowell Benton:
Name: Susan Taylor Virginia McDowell Benton
Born: 1833 Cherry Grove, Rockbridge Co., VA
Died: March 08, 1874 Paris, France



William E. P. Breckinridge, colonel in the Confederate army, married to a granddaughter of Henry Clay.

Benjamin Gratz Brown, senator in Congress from Missouri, and Democratic candidate for Vice-President on the ticket with Horace Greely, receiving two million, eight hundred and thirty-five thousand votes.

John Mason Brown, a colonel of cavalry in the Mexican war, member of the Virginia Legislature, brigadier-general in the Union army, and a prominent lawyer of Lexington, Kr.

Edward Cabell Carrington was a captain in the Mexican war, member of the Virginia Legislature, brigadier general in the Union army, and United States attorney for the District of Columbia.

William Campbell Preston Carrington, a Confederate officer, who fell in battle at Baker’s creek, near Vicksburg.

Susan Tyalor married John B. Weller, member of Congress from Ohio, senator of the United States from California, Governor of California, and United States minister to Mexico.

Jessie Benton married Maj-Gen. John C. Fremont, Republican candidate for President and Governor of Arizona.

Sarah Benton married Richard T. Jacob, Lieutenant-Governor of Kentucky.

Susan V. Benton married Baron Souldree Boilleau, French minister to Peru.

Sally C. P. McDowell married Francis Thomas, Governor of Maryland.

William Preston Johnston, colonel in the Confederate army, confidential aide to President Jefferson Davis, and professor in Washington College, Virginia.

Randall Lee Gibson, brigadier-general in the Confederate service, now member of Congress from Louisiana.

Hart Gibson, member of the Kentucky Legislature. William Preston Gibson, member of the Louisiana Legislature.

Six brothers of these Gibsons, sons of John Preston’s granddaughter, Louisiana Hart, named respectively Randall Lee, William Preston, Hart, Claude, Tobias and McKinley Gibson, were all distinguished officers in the Confederate army. William Preston and Claude Gibson gave up their lives for the Southern cause.

Mary Massie married John Hampden Pleasants, the well-known Virginia journalist, killed in a duel by Thos. Ritchie—1846.

Ann M. Lewis married the celebrated lawyer, John Howe Peyton. His son, John Lewis Peyton, the well-known author of “The American Crisis,” &c., “Over the Alleghanies and Across the Prairies,” &c., “The Adventures of My Grandfather,” and other popular works, published in England, was accredited Confederate States agent to England and France during the civil war; he married Henrietta, daughter of Col. J. C. Washington, and niece of Gov. William A. Graham, of North Carolina, and has issue a son Lawrence W. H. Peyton. Mr. Peyton’s eldest daughter married the late lamented, Col. John B. Baldwin, M. C., etc.

Three of his great-great-grandchildren, brothers, named Cochran, were officers in the Confederate service.

Montgomery Blair, Postmaster-General in Lincoln’s Cabinet.

James Blair married a daughter of Gen. Thomas Jessup, of the United States army.

Francis P. Blair, Jr., member of Congress and United States senator from Missouri, major-general in the Union army and Democratic candidate

From: “Jimmy Rosamond”
Subject: [OHGUERNS] Rosemond Descendants in Guernsey County OH
Date: Fri, 14 Nov 2008 10:14:56 -0500

I am looking for descendants of Philip Rosemond and Moses Morton Rosemond
who lived in Guernsey County, OH in the mid-1800s. This family descended
from a James Rosemond who lived in County Leitrim, Ireland in the early
1700s. Other members of this same family settled in Lanark, Ontario, Canada.
The southern Rosamond family is also said to be descended from this same
family, as are the Rosamond families in Australia and New Zealand. I am
trying to tie all the branches of the family together. The information on
the family in Guernsey County, OH is shown below. I’d appreciate hearing
from anyone who has any information regarding this family.

The reference for the earlier generations of this family is the booklet “The
History of the Rosemond Family” by Leland Eugene Rosemond, 1939.


Descendants of Moses Morton Rosemond

Generation No. 1

was born Bet. 1843 – 1845 in Guernsey County, Ohio5,6. He married MARTHA E
LIKES7,8 26 Jul 1868 in Guernsey County, OH9. She was born Abt. 1847 in

Marriage: 26 Jul 1868, Guernsey County, OH9

2.i.ELIZABETH MARY12 ROSEMOND, b. Jun 1869, Guernsey County,
Ohio; d. 1937, Arkansas City, Cowley County, Kansas.

Never married.


Never married.


Generation No. 2

ROUGEMONT)9,10 was born Jun 1869 in Guernsey County, Ohio, and died 1937 in
Arkansas City, Cowley County, Kansas. She married FRANCIS MARION TAYLOR
Abt. 1895, son of PETER TAYLOR and MARGARET PERIGO. He was born Abt. 1860
in California, and died 1946.

Marriage: Abt. 1895

3.i.FRANCES LYNN13 TAYLOR, b. 28 Dec 1897, Springfield, Sangamon
County, Illinois; d. 20 Nov 1968, Los Angeles County, California.

Generation No. 3

FRED3, HANS2, ERHART1 DE ROUGEMONT) was born 28 Dec 1897 in Springfield,
Sangamon County, Illinois, and died 20 Nov 1968 in Los Angeles County,
California. He married SARA VIOLA WARMBRODT 23 Oct 1926, daughter of SAMUEL
WARMBRODT and ELIZABETH WILSON. She was born 21 Aug 1896 in Arkansas City,
Cowley, Kansas, and died 11 Sep 1994 in Palm Springs, Riverside County,

Marriage: 23 Oct 1926

4.i.ELIZABETH ROSEMOND14 TAYLOR, b. 27 Feb 1932, London, London
County, England.

William Morris and Joaquin Miller

Posted on August 1, 2018by Royal Rosamond Press

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is mill2.jpg

Joaquin Miller had dinner with the Pre-Raphaelites and was my grandmother’s friend. This history is being compiled for the grant I am applying for. The history of the Pre-Raphaelites has not been discarded, thus, Kehinde Wiley has no right to claim it and hand it out to NOBODIES who don’t deserve it!  I don’t give a rat’s ass what the color of their skin is, and how badly they were oppressed. Let them work for their bragging rights. Just because Wyley thinks he has immortalized these non-artists, does not give them any titles. I will see to that.

Miller built a monument to my kin, John Fremont, the first Presidential Candidate for the Abolitionist Republican Party, and the first to emancipate slaves, forcing Lincoln’s hand.

Honoring The Visions of George Miller

Posted on May 30, 2016by Royal Rosamond Press


I will be going out to Coburg today to plant another flower at the grave of George Miller, the brother of Joaquin Miller, a honorary member of the Bohemian Club that was a place for Bay Area Journalists to gather and compare notes. If Miller lived in the Bay Area, then he too would be a honorary member.

Elizabeth Maude “Lischen” or “Lizzie” Cogswell married George Miller. Lizzie was the foremost literary woman in Oregon. On Feb. 6, 1897, Idaho Cogswell, married Feb. 6, 1897, Ira L. Campbell, who was editor, publisher and co-owner (with his brother John) of the Daily Eugene Guard newspaper. The Campbell Center is named after Ira.

The Wedding of John Cogswell to Mary Frances Gay, was the first recorded in Lane County where I registered my newspaper, Royal Rosamond Press. Idaho Campbell was a charter member of the Fortnightly Club that raised funds for the first Eugene Library.

George Melvin Miller was a frequent visitor to ‘The Hights’ his brothers visionary utopia where gathered famous artists and writers in the hills above my great grandfather’s farm. The Miller brothers promoted Arts and Literature, as well as Civic Celebrations. Joaquin’s contact with the Pre-Raphaelites in England, lent credence to the notion that George and Joaquin were Oregon’s Cultural Shamans, verses, he-men with big saw cutting down trees.

A year ago I received in the mail a book I ordered on E-Bay. I quickly scanned it to see if their were any illustrations or photographs. Then, I found it, what amounts to my personal Holy Grail. Joaquin Miller dedicated his book of poems ‘Songs of The Sun-Land’ to the Rossetti family that includes Gabriel, Michael, and, Christine. Gabriel was a artist and poet, Michael, a publisher, and Christine, a poet.


Gabriel, who had Joaquin over to his house for dinner, where he met several members of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. Miller sends Michael a photograph of himself, and is sent a photo. This photo may be the famous one taken by Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, who is better known as Lewis Carrol the author of ‘Alice in Wonderland’. If Joaquin had glued this portrait to a piece of paper, then we might have seen it on the dedication page.

What is going on here is extremely profound. Miller has exported his vision and lifestyle to the England, where he wrote Song of the Sierras, and now he is importing to America a cultural brand that contains Grail and Arthurian subject matter that was at the epicenter of the work of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood.

Lewis Carrol posed two children as Fair Rosamond and Queen Eleanore. I associate Fairmount with Rosamond. Johnnny Depp is starring in another Alice in Wonderland movie. Eugene can celebrate our Land of Make Believe, our White Rabbit made famous by the Jefferson Airplane. I stood before the Mayor of Eugene and suggested a Newspaper Museum at Kesey Square wherein is a model of Miller’s Fantastic Flying Machine. We could build a parade around this contraptions, a world contest that would bring creative people to our Fair City.  Children would love this! They too would be in costume for the White Rabbit Run!

Here is what amounts to MY FANTASTIC MOVIE shot in Eugene. What an Amazing Journey is has been!


Juanita Miller ‘The White Witch’

Posted on December 6, 2014by Royal Rosamond Press


Joaquin Miller, William Morris & Me

Posted on August 5, 2013by Royal Rosamond Press

Edward Burne-Jones’s The Rock of Doom, 1885-88

Christine Rosamond Benton and I were drawn into Tolkien’s Trilogy. The artist known as ‘Rosamond’ could not put these books down, nr could I. This caused our mutual friend, Keith Purvis, a British subject, to comment;

“She doesn’t know these books are real.”

We three were original hippies who took the Lord of the Rings to heart as we modified the modern world, made it over more to our liking, we oblivious to what normal folk were about. This is exactly what William Morris and the Pre-Raphaelite Brother and Sisterhood did. They – returned!

I discovered the Pre-Raphaelites in 1969 and let my hair grow long for the first time. I gave up drugs in 1967 and was looking for a spiritual format. I came under the spell of the Rossetti family who were friendly with Joaquin Miller. We Presco children knew Miller’s daughter as ‘The White Witch’ and we would call her for advice. Miller’s home ‘The Abbye’ was above our home in the Oakland Hills. Our kindred were friends of Miller, who was also a friend of Swineburn, who wrote ‘The Queen-Mother and Rosamund’ and ‘Rosamund Queen of Lombards. Tolkien was inspired by the Lombards.

Filed away in Rosamond’s probate is my plea to the executor to allow me to be my sister’s historian. I mention Miller and Rossetti. I saw myself in the role of Michael Rossetti who had his own publishing company. He published Miller and other famous poets. When I was twelve, my mother read evidence I might become a famous poet.

All my imput has been ruthlessly ignored, because petty un-creative minds have forced our families creative legacy down the tiny holes of their hidden agendas, into the mouths of worms and parasites, because these ignorant people sensed I and the real Art World, did not let them in the door – would never admit them into our circle, our ring of genius!

Jon Presco

Copyright 2011

William Morris had a major influence on J. R. R. Tolkien. As John Garth points out, unlike most authors traumatized by the experience of World War I, Tolkien did not “discard the old ways of writing, the classicism or medievalism championed by Lord Tennyson and William Morris. In his hands these traditions were reinvigorated so that they remain powerfully alive for readers today” (40). His love of Morris, in particular, goes back to his undergraduate days when he turned from studying the Greek and Latin classics to the the northern traditions — the language and literature of the Scandinavian and Germanic past. According Garth,
William Morris, from the late 1870s on, decided to “remedy” the defects of the real historical record by producing specific works of “pseudo-history,” fully-fleshed stories that he could present as “re-discovered” manuscripts of ancient tribal lore. So eager were the Germanic speakers of 19th century Europe to know more about their ancestors, that sometimes even academically trained scholars would be fooled by the books Morris wrote, and asked him for his sources, and wanted to read the original saga manuscripts themselves. To which requests Morris replied “Doesn’t the fool realize, that it’s a romance, a work of fiction — that it’s all lies!” (from May Morris, daughter of W. Morris recollections).

JRRT, a generation later than Morris, got in on the tail end of this nationalistic/ romantic period, and became as fully enmeshed in its allures as Morris. Tolkien went on to “sub-create” his own “pseudo-histories,” manufacturing his versions of the source myths that would allow a richer understanding of the Nordic tradition, especially the Anglo-Saxon phenomena of England. Between them, as much by accident as firm intent, Morris and Tolkien established an entire genre of pseudo-history that has, by now in the 21st century, become one of the most popular fields of literature.

“These two men knew either much (Morris) or most (Tolkien) of all that was known about these [northern] people and their lives. They used that wealth of knowledge to create ‘dreamed realities’ (Morris) or an ‘imaginary history’ (Tolkien) about what it might have been like to live in those days. While what they wrote wasn’t necessarily true in a strict sense, both knew enough about the past and were talented enough as writers that what they wrote created a strong sense that they described what might have been.” ( Michael W. Perry, More to William Morris, p. 7, 2003)

So, the question then becomes, for Tolkien readers, how does Morris stand up to JRRT? Is it worth the money to buy Morris’s books? Will I get the same, or at least a very similar thrill from reading them as I get when running through the pages of LotR and The Hobbit? Well, that’s what I am trying to decide in the next few installments of this topic. How do the works of the two authors compare, in what ways are they similar, in what ways do they differ?

Joaquin Miller looked me up at Somerset House, and left with me
the remaining proofs of his forthcoming volume. He showed me the dedication, ‘To the Rossettis.’ I strongly recommended him to write direct to Gabriel as to the matter before anything further is done. I mentioned the dedication to Christina. She feels some hesitation in sanctioning it, not knowing what the book may contain. If she makes up her mind to object, she is to write to Miller. I looked through the proofs and noted down some remarks on them. They include a series of poems about Christ, named Olive Leaves, implying a sort of religious, or at least personal, enthusiasm, mixed up with a good deal that has more relation to a sense of the picturesque than of the devotional. These poems, though far from worthless from their own point of view, are very defective, and would, I think be highly obnoxious to many readers and Reviewers. I have suggested to Miller the expediency of omitting them altogether. – Christina, I find, has already read these particular poems, and to some considerable extent likes them, which is so far in their favour as affecting religious readers”

The wider world of Victorian London is present: Turgenev comes to dinner, Browning sends his new volumes, Swinburne arrives drunk, and the American poet and adventurer Joaquin Miller makes himself known to the Rossetti circle. Nine appendices include five devoted to Poems and one to the Fleshly School controversy.

Joaquin Miller Cabin is located in Washington, DC. The Hights, the Oakland home Miller built at the end of his life, is currently known as the Joaquin Miller House and is part of Joaquin Miller Park. He planted the surrounding trees and he personally built, on the eminence to the north, his own funeral pyre and monuments dedicated to Moses, General John C. Frémont, and the poets Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett Browning. The Japanese poet Yone Noguchi began his literary career while living in the cabin adjoining Millers’ during the latter half of the 1890s. The Hights was purchased by the city of Oakland in 1919 and can be found in Joaquin Miller Park.[42] It is now a designated California Historical Landmark.
Miller went to England, where he was celebrated as a frontier oddity. There, in May 1871, Miller published Songs of the Sierras, the book which finalized his nickname as the “Poet of the Sierras”.[22] It was well-received by the British press and members of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, particularly Dante Gabriel Rossetti and William Michael Rossetti.
While in England, he was one of the few Americans invited into the Savage Club along with Julian Hawthorne, son of Nathaniel Hawthorne. The younger Hawthorne referred to Miller as “a licensed libertine” but admitted him “charming, amiable, and harmless”.[
The Savage Club was formed to supply the want which Dr Samuel Johnson and his friends experienced when they founded the Literary Club. A little band of authors, journalists and artists felt the need of a place of reunion where, in their hours of leisure, they might gather together and enjoy each other’s society, apart from the publicity of that which was known in Johnson’s time as the coffee house, and equally apart from the chilling splendour of the modern club.

At present, there are 315 members. The club maintains a tradition of fortnightly dinners for members and their guests, always followed by entertainment. These dinners often feature a variety of famous performers from music hall to concert hall. Several times a year members invite ladies to share both the dinner and the entertainment — sometimes as performers. On these occasions guests always include widows of former Savages, who are known as Rosemaries (after rosemary, a symbol of remembrance).
Born in London, he was a son of immigrant Italian scholar Gabriele Rossetti, and the brother of Maria Francesca Rossetti, Dante Gabriel Rossetti and Christina Georgina Rossetti.
He was one of the seven founder members of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood in 1848, and became the movement’s unofficial organizer and bibliographer. He edited the Brotherhood’s literary magazine The Germ which published four issues in 1850 and wrote the poetry reviews for it.
It was William Michael Rossetti who recorded the aims of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood at their founding meeting in September 1848:
1. To have genuine ideas to express;
2. To study nature attentively, so as to know how to express them;
3. To sympathize with what is direct and serious and heartfelt in previous art, to the exclusion of what is conventional and self-parading and learned by rote;
4. And most indispensable of all, to produce thoroughly good pictures and statues.
Although Rossetti worked full time as a civil servant, he maintained a prolific output of criticism and biography across a range of interests from Algernon Swinburne to James McNeill Whistler. He edited the diaries of his maternal uncle John William Polidori (author of The Vampyre and physician to Lord Byron), a comprehensive biography of D. G. Rossetti, and edited the collected works of D. G. Rossetti and Christina Rossetti.
Rossetti edited the first British edition of the poetry of Walt Whitman, which was published in 1868; however, this edition was bowdlerized.[1] Anne Gilchrist, who became one of the first to write about Whitman, first read his poetry from Rossetti’s edition, and Rossetti helped initiate their correspondence.[2]
In 1874 he married Lucy Madox Brown, daughter of the painter Ford Madox Brown. They honeymooned in France and Italy. Their first child, Olivia Frances Madox, was born in September 1875, and her birth was celebrated in an ode of Swinburne.
William Michael Rosetti was a major contributor to the 1911 edition of the Encyclopædia Britannica; his contributions on artistic subjects were criticised by many reviewers at the time and since, as showing little evidence of having absorbed the mounting body of work by academic art historians, mostly writing in German.

About Royal Rosamond Press

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