The Royal Janiltor
DEVELOPMENT:
Holly McDowell may be related to Drew Benton. She has a sympathetic face – that is paramount in a hero, or, heroine. You want this face – to win! It speaks to you. It instructs you. It raises every emotion in you. This is the brave face to – die for!
Go-on! Paint her face – and body blue! Now, put a Roman Legion in front of her.
The Glory That Was Garthland
Posted on June 6, 2013 by Royal Rosamond Press
Jessie and John Fremont appear to have named their son, Frank Preston Fremont after Francis “Frank” Preston Blair whose daughter, Elizabeth Blair, was very close to Mary Todd. Elizabeth married a cousin of General Lee. The Todd family were prominent in Kentucky where the Preston family reigned. Mary Todd was a Scarlet. Mary and Sarah McDowell, the mother of Jessie Benton, have grandfathers named Samuel McDowell. Whether they are related, needs to investigated, because Jessie and Mary are mirror images of each other, and were Flowers of the South. How they came to wed two abolitionist candidates for the Republican Party – connected to the Blair family – needs to scrutinized, because the Fremonts had a falling out with the Blair family that led to their ruin.
I suspect Mary Todd saw the Fremonts as usurpers, and when Jessie made her anti-Slavery views public record, the Southern Bells who are close kin, turned their back on her. Did they do the same to Mary Todd? I suspect not because Abe was for a slow ending of slavery and the deportation of blacks to their own country he would help found. Lincoln was into nation building for blacks. Were all those Kentucky Colonels behind Lincoln’s secret plan, thanks to Mary’s kindred?
When Fremont emancipated the slaves of Missouri I am sure the Preston family went ballistic and came to Mary Todd for solace. The idea these Belles would be surrounded by freed blacks, must have been revolting. Surely they talked amongst themselves. Surely Abe overheard their conversations, and shuttered. Jessie and her husband were drummed out of the South – and the North. Their power in the West was stripped from them. But Lincoln;s hand was forced. The Radical Republicans, and the foreign Forty-Eighters, could muster votes.
My kindred erected a monument to James McDowell whose family fled Ireland to America. The McDowell family are of the Clan McDougal. They appear to be Peckerwoods, redheads, Irish-Scotts. The captain of the ship they were on tried to starve the McDowells to death in order to get their money. Like the Rosamond family, the McDowells fought at the battle of Boyne. They backed William of Orange.
I think I will wear the McDowell Clan Tartan at the coming Scottish games. I am a tireless supporter of the Fremonts and their lost history.
Above are the ruins of Garthland, ancestral home of the McDowells. There is a O’Hara clan that mentions Scarlet O’Hara in the fiction ‘Gone With The Wind’. Jessie and her mother were the real Scarlet. Was Garth Benton named after Garthland. I will try to get a fund going to save Garthland.
Above is a portrait of Elizabeth Graham of Airth, Wife of William MacDowall of Castle Semple and Garthland by William Mosman.
Jon Presco
Copyright 2013
http://leomcdowell.tripod.com/id27.htm
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clan_Macdowall
This Monument
is erected to their grandparents, James and Sarah McDowell, by the surviving children of Susan P. Taylor, Elizabeth Benton, and James McDowell, in the year 1855.
http://home.comcast.net/~davidmartin/ppl/a/b/abc80ae0c8a698883d5.html
Ephriam McDowell was descended from Somerled (or Somervil), Lord of the Isles, then from his son Dougall who founded the Clan of Dougall or MacDougal, one of the eldest of the fifty-two Highland Clans proper. In the coat of arms of the McDougals or McDowells ins quartered the lymphiad or ancient four-eared galley found in the armorial bearings of the clans of the western part of Scotland.
Ephriam’s family fled from Scotland to Ireland and settled near Londonberry. Ephriam was born in 1672 in Londonberry County. He was only sixteen years of age when on December 9, 1688, McDonell of Antrim approached the walls of Londonberry. Ephriam went to the defense of the heroic town and assisted in closing the gates against the intruders. He also fought against the forces of James II at Boyne River.
http://home.comcast.net/~davidmartin/ppl/a/b/abc80ae0c8a698883d5.html
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qim4wH09W8
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zNzpp2dHRZ8
http://www.irishgathering.ie/clan_info.asp?clanID=562
Ephraim’s father (Abraham McDowal [1648]) left Scotland with his father, Joseph “the Calvinist” and with his family during the period of the English Civil Wars (abt. 1650). The name Mc Dowell is a modification of the Gaelic: Mac Dhu ghall, or MacDougal, meaning son or descendant of the dark stranger or Dane. The name was given over ten centuries ago to Norse settlers in Galloway, Scotland and the descendants of a son of Prince Fergus and Princess Elizabeth de Galloway, daughter of King Henry I of England.
Ephraim McDowell was one of the apprentice boys who shut the gates to Londonderry at the siege of Londonderry at the age of 16, and later fought at the Battle of Boyne River, in 1690. His brother, John, supposedly died during the Siege, but may have been confused with brother Charles, of which little is known, other than the fact that the three brothers were present at the Siege of Londonderry in 1689
http://www.lochwinnoch.info/history/local-tales/the-glory-that-was-garthland
Sadly the historic house is now but a shell of its former self. Today it lies derelict, abandoned and boarded-up in woodlands now overgrown and neglected. Yet still the old mansion clings tenaciously to its proud history. Even in the midst of its devastation it is not difficult to imagine Garthland in all its architectural and horticultural glory.
Known originally as Garpel House then Barr House before becoming Garthland House, the regal residence was acquired by the Macdowall family who came initially from Garthland in Wigtownshire and were descended from the Lords of Galloway. During the mid-1930s, Henry Macdowall sold it to the Mill Hill Foreign Missionary Society that was founded. Garthland House was renamed St Jospeh’s College by the Society and, during its heyday, around 30 young men were students there.
Elizabeth Graham of Airth, Wife of William MacDowall of Castle Semple and Garthland
by William Mosman
Drew Benton and Garthland
Posted on December 2, 2021 by Royal Rosamond Press
Bonds With Angels
by
John Presco
Copyright 2021
Last night I had a dream about Christine and her friend, Carmen, who had a crush on me. They were around fourteen. They were dancing and having fun. Carmen and I used to dance at San Sebastian. Suddenly, Christine is speaking to me. She loves my genealogical study.
“Don’t deprive your niece of her birthright!”
During a divorce, and a fought over a legacy, adults – and children – are bid to take a side. When I first met Drew Benton, she came over to play video games with her cousin after the funeral. She was eight. Ten years later we met on Everquest, a game Vicki and her loved to play for hours. I came in as
WOLFEROSE
Drew is kin to the Stewart family – two ways! These magical royals made much of the history of the British Isles. They came to America with the MacDowell and Preston family. I am considering a video game called…
GARTHLAND
Drew is an accomplished artist, and has drawn characters for video games. I see a collaboration.
McDowell and Dew | Rosamond Press
Drew Benton and the Rose Mouth Grail
Posted on May 17, 2012 by Royal Rosamond Press
Two months ago I met Vicki and Drew in a fanciful land on Everquest. I looked like a grey-haried Danish King whom I name Wolferose. This name is derived from my study of the name Hrothmund a character in Beowulf.
“Rosamund, Rosamond, Rosamunde, Rosemonde is of Teutonic origin,
having been formed from the Old male name Rhosmund, softened down
from Ruodmunt same as the Old and Middle high German name Hrothmond
(Icelandic Hrothmundr) old Gothis, Ratmund. Junius’ translation
Ruodmunt. “red mouth”. The name if from Ruod-munt for Rad-Mund “man
for counsel” councilor of Radmun, “protector in council”
Tolkein’s Ring Trilogy was inspired by the Icelandic Tales authored by, and about, my kindred.
Above is the artwork of my my niece who became an orphan in the world when her father, Garth Benton, died two weeks ago. Vicki has taken Rosamond’s daughter under her wing. She is a Foundling in Art Mundi. I am the Protector of the Grail Council known as the Rose of the World. The Sleeping Beauty – is awake!
Jan Hrothmund
Beowulf, Rosamond (Hrothmond) and the Rose Mouth Grail Message List
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Beowulf, Rosamond (Hrothmond) and the Rose Mouth Grail
http://movies.yahoo.com/movie/1808728058/video/4798298
(Images: Cup-beaer, Wealhbeow, serving mead. Coat of arms. Beowulf
fighting dragon. Wolfhouse. Brendal’s mother.)
A movie version of the legend of Beowulf is due to be released in a
week or two. Today I found the definitive proof the name Rosamond
comes from the Hrothmond/Hrothmund, and is the source of the Hromund
who is the hero of the Icelandic saga,’Hromundr Gripsson’ that
inspired Tolkein. Some scholars suggest this saga is the source of
some aspects of the Arthurian legend, as well as a source of the
Lohengrin legend.
Hrothmund is the son of Wealhþeow who preformed the ceremony of the
mead cup, she the cup-bearer for the Danish kings. No one has been
able to define the meaning of her name, but it looks like it ends
with “beow” and might stand for mead made of honeycones. It is
suggested she is a servant or “slave”, but I see Maiden Server of
Mead. Perhaps she is a mead goddess.
Hrothgar wishes to adopt Beowulf, but Wealhbeow bids the king to not
forget Hrothulf, which looks like Hrotwulf “famous wolf”
or “redwolf”. Hrothgar has two sons, Hrethric and Hrothmund, the
latter being the source of the name Rosamond. Did Beowulf become
Hrothmund’s half-brother?
Hrothmund is said to mean “rose mouth”. This is meaning of the name
Rosenmund of which we see a coat of arms with two roses and a cross.
There is a Rosenmund Cup that is the centerpiece for the Gerberzunft
Guild in Basel. Did this cup ever SERVE mead to distinguished guests,
if only in a traditonal sence?
Beowulf was written by a farmer named Rolf. Is it possible he is my
ancestor and lived in Wolfhouse where the Roesmonts dwelt?
http://www.gerbernzunft.ch/index.php?id=81
My family name, Rosamond, will forever be associated with the Beowulf
legend that depicts a usurption by Hroðulf, i.e. Hrólfr Kraki.
Here is the source of the name Rosamund found in “The Etymology of
the Principal Christian Names of Great …
By Richard Stephen Charnock
Rosamund, Rosamond, Rosamunde, Rosemonde is of Teutonic origin,
having been formed from the Old male name Rhosmund, softened down
from Ruodmunt same as the Old and Middle high German name Hrothmond
(Icelandic Hrothmundr) old Gothis, Ratmund. Junius’ translation
Ruodmunt. “red mouth”. The name if from Ruod-munt for Rad-Mund “man
for counsel” councilor of Radmun, “protector in council””
Jon Presco
Copyright 2007
The Grandfathers Come Home to the Shire For Thanksgiving
Posted on May 17, 2012 by Royal Rosamond Press
“Every fine day Rosamunda walked the hills, seldom seeing another living creature other than sheep, or, very rarely, a doe or faun. She did not walk south to Hobbiton, however, except on errands or for an appointed visit. She had not forgotten her “understanding” with Bilbo. And Bilbo did not forget her, either.
Regularly, he sent her gifts of wine or ham or fruit in season, as tokens of his neighbourly regard. She appreciated the way he could show marks of particular notice, without making her feel the burden of obligation.”
When Patrice talked about having a daughter by me when I come to see my sixteen year old daughter, is reminiscent of the Biblical mothers who took the Vow of the Nazarite in order to conceive for they were old in years. How old was Patrice Hanson – fifty five?
What is clear she wants into my family as my aged bride – who took my daughter and put her in the arms of a imposter. In a letter to Oprah Winfrey, she says she knew it was my child the moment Heather was born, and kept the truth from Randall Delpiano lest he kill Heather.
This has all the earmarks of a Fairy Tale, and the Grail Legends. Morgana comes to mind and her son Mordred, who is destined to kill his father, King Arthur. The Grail Kingdom goes into decline because of the dark machinations of Morgana – the usurper of God’s Light and the Holy Bloodline.
I knew Bill Cornwell hated me when we were on our way to the Grand Canyon. We had stopped at a cave where I bought Tyler Hunt an arrowhead. Sitting in the back seat together, I told my grandson about the Native Americans who made this arrowhead, and there were many more lying outside on the ground. I made pictures for him of the hunt, the campsites, how they struck the obsidian with a rock to shape it. I talked about how they tied the arrow to a wooden shaft.
I took my grandson on an inner journey, back in time. Tyler loved these journeys we took together since he was born. This is a curious child, not a do macho stuff look at me kind of child, like Bill, who was seething because Tyler was not focused on the Speed Demon show-off bully boy! We were ruining his trip to the Grand Canyon.
What I had shown my offspring, was how to pull a weapon from a rock. Consider Excalibur and the fact obsidian was once molten lava from Fire Mountain. When we got out of the car Tyler rushed to the first bare ground to look for an arrowhead and a stick so I could show him how it was tied to it.
“Get out of there. You’re not supposed to be in there!” spoke the selfish giant.
Bill in a huff, marched to the rim of the Canyon, walking as fast as he could. He had seen me tire in the cave, and, he wanted to arrive at the rim without me, because he wanted a big stuff Hallmark moment, with just him and his new family.
“Hey everyone. Look at me! Aren’t I grand?”
Sixty feet ahead, Tyler turned, made eye contact with me, and said;
“Wait for Papa!”
Bill walked that much faster. So did my daughter, my Mordred, who was furious i would not allow her to be in Tom Snyder’s biography of Rosamond, that did not sell, and ranks as one of the worst biographies ever written.
I authored the following several years ago, for my daughter and grandson. Heather has no clue that magical people author magical stories that are often inspired by their magical family.
I see Royal Rosamond in my grandson.
Jon Presco
Copyright 2012
Obsidian is a naturally occurring volcanic glass formed as an extrusive igneous rock. It is produced when felsic lava extruded from a volcano cools rapidly with minimum crystal growth. Obsidian is commonly found within the margins of rhyolitic lava flows known as obsidian flows, where the chemical composition (high silica content) induces a high viscosity and polymerization degree of the lava
The Grandfathers Come Home to the Shire For Thanksgiving Message List
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The Grandfathers Come Home to the Shire For Thanksgiving
(Images: Gandalf comes home to the Shire. The town of Rougemont
Switzerland, the home of my ancestors. The Ozarks. The Shire of the
Hobbits. The Mill in Eminence.)
http://www.scotshistoryonline.co.uk/rednecks/rednecks.html
“So for me, Hobbits, as best I can relate to them in the real world,
are Appalachian southerners. I think the southerners that I knew had
much in common with the people of Tolkien’s English countryside. I
don’t know whether you can still find such folk in England, but I
believe there are, at least a few, such folk to be found upon the
ridges, and in the hollows of Appalachia.”
Karlton Douglas
Two days ago I awoke and wondered how best to tell my readers how
the Rougemonts became the Orangemen and Ulstermen, and how their
Dream that was forced flee the ancient lands of their ancestors,
came to dwell in America. Then it struck me, the very ground that
lay at my feet rose up and gave me a good bump, for we go to where
we have been, and back again, and it was time to bring the
Grandfather’s home. And we go there with the words Tolkien’s
Rosamunda, and we return with the words of my grandfather, Royal
Rosamond, for they are very much the same.
I jumped out of bed and rushed to my computer. Had any other writer
taken note of how similar the Hillbillies are to the Hobbits? In no
time I found the observations of the author, Karlton Douglas. I then
went to my book shelf and pulled out ‘Ravola of Thunder Mountain’
published in 1947 the years my late sister was born. Inside the
cover is this dedication;
“To BERTHA MAY ROSAMOND (now Mrs. Bigalow), my second daughter, who
has steadfastly clung to the belief that her Father would leave
Literary Footprints on the SANDS OF TIME.
Royal Rosamond”
Here is a chapter from my Grandfather’s story, whom I never met. I
will soon be leaving to see my Grandson, Tyler, Royal’s Great
Grandson. I will be bringing The Grandfather’s with me so they may
adore Heather’s beautiful son through my eyes.
http://rougeknights.blogspot.com
“Poetry on Leaves
The spring sun was warm now, brightening as with happiness in the
open fields, the broad land resembling a crazy quilt because of the
wooded patches everywhere. Already the wild grapes were in bloom,
and if the sun continued smiling there would be, in every Hillman’s
cellar, many, many jars of grape juice for making jelly, and wine
for those who knew the trick of making it. Those pink-white blossoms
on the pale yellow bushes hard against warm hillside rocks were
huckleberries in bloom. The wild grapes and the huckleberries once
ripe, tangier here in Shannon County, Missouri, than most any other
place in the Ozarks.
I walked on, for I had yet a long way to go before nightfall. Now it
was but a mite after mid-day. After leaving the train at Winona, I
could have perhaps caught a ride to Eminence had I stayed with the
wagon road instead of footing it up the spur-track leading northward
to cross Jack’s Fork at the Hodge place where I left to journey up
Possum Trot toward Little Wonder Schoolhouse and Tucked Away Church
House, above which in the ride to the north, I lived – the place
where I was born and which I called home, where my parents had
settled in their youth and planned some day to die. The way was
long, the trail lonesome and ofttimes steep. As wild a region as
ever grew outdoors. No matter. I wanted to stretch my legs and let
the April breeze take the orders of a Saint Louis foundry away from
me.
I went home on a visit once a year – had already worked five years
up there, long enough to forget how to talk (or write) hillbilly
talk, it seemed like. Still, I didn’t mind being called a hillbilly.
Life in the Ozarks had a tang. I liked everything about them, from
the blooming of the redbud and dogwood in springtime to pumpkin pies
and possum and coon hunting and listening to fox hounds in the fall.
I was born and bred here. This wilderness was in my blood. I felt as
much a part of it as does a back log to a fireplace. I was twenty
six years old now, and when I become fifty, I intend to retire, and
go sit on pappy’s rocker there on the front porch and rock and smoke
and think until I die.
Here on the side of Grapevine Mountain, high above the glistening of
Jack’s Fork below, for days and weeks and years back into the dim
past she had lived in splendid isolation, the silence, save for the
passing Hillman on the road below her cabin, as vast as the greenery
of the heaving land-billows rising higher and ever higher toward the
summit of the far ridge leaning against the blue heaven on the west,
below which was the great spring from which the stream Jack’s Fork
nursed and found perpetual substance. A skinny, faded creature in
her late forties, seemingly as antiquated as the furniture in the
two small rooms in her rustic cabin, yet she possessed the amazing
gift of cheerfulness. Even though her income was very meager, yet
she contrived to spread a spirit of near-opulence and comforting
friendliness about herself which was as convincing as was Mr.
Russell’s plush appearing abundance. In summer she mothered her
pansy beds, naming the little faces, as she called them, after the
little girls she taught in winter, the boys unslighted by living as
vegetables in her garden, the more refractory being a gooseberry
busy or wild plum tree.”
“From first sight, even the site of the new cottage had enchanted
her, dug as it was into the southeast side of a grassy hill in the
midst of Boffin lands, populated with Boffin sheep. There was a
little copse below it, just to the side, and a spring-fed well, all
of which reminded her of her childhood home. The place had come down
to Odovacar through his mother’s side, a Boffin. He had used it as
asort of base, when he and his friends had gone out hunting.
Theywould stock the little hole with gear and rations. Then, with
their bows, and a pony for their gear, they would make forays west
ornorth, towards the Downs or up to the Moors, or, closer still,
intoBindbale Wood. But that was years ago, when the game had not
yetmoved so far off. When Rosamunda had viewed it more carefully,
she saw the hole was inconsiderable disrepair. Also, it was a bit
too small. She had new rooms dug, so that there was a parlour and a
kitchen, a bedroom for each (and one to spare), along with extra
chambers further back fo rstore. When it was finished, it suited
Rosamunda very well. Especially, she loved the light. Situated
facing south-east, the light poured through the windows in the
mornings, her favourite time of the day. And, when she stood
outside, she could see the land stretching east and south far into
the distance. Illuminated by the late afternoonsun, the prospect was
especially fine. From the top of the little knoll that made the
cottage’s roof, she could see far to the northand west, where sheep
dotted the rolling hills. The sky at nighttook her breath away. And,
all day, the birds sang, the wind blew,and the Water, which ran
nearby, just to the west, mostly narrow andquick as it came down out
of Long Cleeve and Needlehole, could justbe heard when the wind
dropped and everything was still. She loved its peace and quiet, so
tucked away and so private. Yet,it was just an hour’s walk over the
hills to Bag End or to Hobbiton. Overhill, to the east, was even
closer. Every fine day Rosamunda walked the hills, seldom seeing
another living creature other than sheep, or, very rarely, a doe or
faun. She did not walk south to Hobbiton, however, except on errands
orfor an appointed visit. She had not forgotten
her “understanding”with Bilbo. And Bilbo did not forget her, either.
Regularly, he sent her gifts of wine or ham or fruit in season, as
tokens of his neighbourly regard. She appreciated the way he could
show marks ofparticular notice, without making her feel the burden
of obligation.”
Rosamond Press 
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