Trump revealed the project on Wednesday during a White House donor dinner. (Bloomberg)
The Royal Janitor
Victoria Bond tuned off Highway 126 at Blue River as she chatted away with her husband.
“After we babtize Baby Rose, we;ll go get Amercian passports in Eugene. I cant wait to become an American Citizen.!” said Victroia.
“What do you mean? I’m not an America Citizen. My father, Ivan Thorvaldsen is a citizen of Greenland. So am I! I am part Inuit. You look disapointed.”
Victoria went back in time, whene she attened CCAC. She had become a huge fan of Willam Morris, a father of the Pre-Raphaelites, who also headed the Arts and Crafts Movement, that the founder of CCAC led in the Bay Area. Frederick Meyer may have known Jaaquin Miller who was a reporter for Eugenes first newspaper. His brother platted the City of Florence and Fairmont. After readin gthe Tolkien Trilogy, she read……….
THE HOUSE OF WOLFING!
Bond’s like was changed. When she saw Starfish walk in the door of BAD, dress as a SAVAGE. She had crossed the line between what is real and what is not, and seems to be The answer to the President’s quest to recreate the Roman Empire – in the United States ……
WHALE FORSAKING OUR NATO ALLIES!
“So! You are telling me we are citizens of Greenland, that might become a property of the U.S., and when that happens, my dream will come true?”
A view of the California College of the Arts. Photo courtesy of California College of the ArtsCalifornia College of the Arts will close as an independent institution after 119 years, as Vanderbilt University prepares to take over its main San Francisco campus at the end of the 2026-27 academic year.
The announcement stunned faculty and staff, many of whom learned of the decision in January through an internal email from CCA President David Howse. The school will stop accepting new students next year, marking the end of one of the Bay Area’s most influential art institutions, SFGATE reported.
The Royal Drum Circle
The Royal Janitor
Chapter Three
When Victoria told Starfish they were going to Eugene Oregon to track down what became of the Rose Division amongst the Habsburgs, she let out a spine-altering scrrrrrreeeee! She then shook all over, began to sweat profusely, and went into a trance. Victoria retreated, and Sharena got out from behind her desk, just in case she had to make a bee-line for the exit as Starfish made super rapid foot movements with quck turns in different directions. She would later tell the folks at BAD that this was the Lek black grouse dance she learned in South Africa where she and her father fled to get away from Vladimir Putin when he became Premiere of Russia.
“I’m going to bring my drum! This is a dream come true. My mother was born in Eugene. I’ve never been there! Screeeeeee!”
“You own a drum? Why isn’t this in the report? By any chance have you heard of John von Bond?”
“Nope! But, have you heard of the Oregon Country Fair! My Kabalak Klock is telling me this is a Kosmic Konnection made in another dimension. What great timing! We are going to enter the Royal Drum Vortex. I am forbidden to ever step foot in Eugene, but, I don’t give a shit! This is it! You’re going to see – the real me! I want you to promise you will get me back to BAD!”
A flag hangs on campus at Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts, on September 4, 2025. Shannon Stapleton/Reuters
President Donald Trump has doubled down on his attacks against Harvard University, demanding that the Ivy League school pay a $1 billion settlement to restore federal funding after months of failed negotiations.
“We are now seeking One Billion Dollars in damages, and want nothing further to do, into the future, with Harvard University,” Trump wrote on his Truth Social late Monday, disputing a report from the New York Times that the White House had dropped his administration’s demands on for a financial payment from the university, citing multiple unnamed sources.
Officials from Harvard and the White House have been in discussions for months about a high-dollar deal to restore all federal funding to the university and end its ongoing lawsuits against the administration. Trump had been calling on Harvard to pay a sweeping $500 million settlement.
University administrators have refused any deal that includes a cash payment, The Harvard Crimson reported, and were instead negotiating the details of a workforce development agreement of up to $500 million.
y Riot being beaten, whipped, and their hair pulled, by Putin’s Goon God Squad. My heterosexual book – was toast! I did the right thing! Play the first video with full sound, and the second video with the sound down, to know……who the real savages of the world are.
John Presco
The apparent Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump drew a crowd of 4,387 at the Lane Events Center in Eugene Friday night.
Trump mentioned Oregon a couple of times. “I love being with you people. I do. I love this part of the world.”
Trump pointed to poverty and the loss of manufacturing and timber jobs in Oregon. “Timber jobs have been cut in half since 1990.” Trump said, “We’re gonna bring em up folks. We’re gonna bring em up!”
The crowd cheered at familiar lines from Donald Trump. He talked about building a wall across the southern border. He also attacked Democratic presidential candidate Hillary Clinton, Bill Clinton, Democratic Senator Elizabeth Warren and the media.
Trump urged people to vote for him in the May 17th primary. Oregon is typically a blue state in presidential elections, but Trump said he’ll carry the state in November. There were a couple of hecklers in the crowd. One, who held up a Mexican flag, was escorted out. Protesters gathered outside the events center long after Trump left the stage.
In spite of Eugene’s reputation for liberal activism, protests remained peaceful and there were no arrests, according to police.
0507RM_2WAY_TRUMP.mp3
KLCC’s Rachael McDonald talks with KLCC Weekend Edition host Desmond O’Boyle about Friday’s Trump rally.Listen • 3:42
A week ago I was going to blog on a reunion at the Palace Hotel with fundraiser for ‘The Royal Janitor’. There would be a train trip to Belmont where a Celebrity Labyrinth would be made in Twin Pines Park. I would invite my Star, Lara Roozemond, and, my Muse, Rena Easton, whose grandmother was so grateful I rescued her, a Beautiful Damsel in Distress. I am so grateful to the World Wide Web for making my dream come true. I have not let my women down.
John Presco 007
Copyright 2021
President: Royal Rosamond Press
The Royal Janitor
Chapter Three
When Victoria told Starfish they were going to Eugene Oregon to track down what became of the Rose Division amongst the Habsburgs, she let out a spine-altering scrrrrrreeeee! She then shook all over, began to sweat profusely, and went into a trance. Victoria retreated, and Sharena got out from behind her desk, just in case she had to make a bee-line for the exit as Starfish made super rapid foot movements with quck turns in different directions. She would later tell the folks at BAD that this was the Lek black grouse dance she learned in South Africa where she and her father fled to get away from Vladimir Putin when he became Premiere of Russia.
“I’m going to bring my drum! This is a dream come true. My mother was born in Eugene. I’ve never been there! Screeeeeee!”
“You own a drum? Why isn’t this in the report? By any chance have you heard of John von Bond?”
“Nope! But, have you heard of the Oregon Country Fair! My Kabalak Klock is telling me this is a Kosmic Konnection made in another dimension. What great timing! We are going to enter the Royal Drum Vortex. I am forbidden to ever step foot in Eugene, but, I don’t give a shit! This is it! You’re going to see – the real me! I want you to promise you will get me back to BAD!”
Love Dance – With Ducks
Posted on July 27, 2018 by Royal Rosamond Press
The Royal Janitor
Victoria came in sideways to get Starfish, she twisting this way, then that, to avoid the gyrating flesh that clung to Agent 008 like kelp in a tidepool. Taking hold of her arm, she was shocked when Starfish turned in anger, and was about to slap her hand away.
“Don’t you dare! You got to come with me – now! Professor Bond is about to give his lecture.”
Starfish let out a whimper, and was pouting. Many hands tried to pull her back into the drum circle where she was a star. An old hag came up to them.
“Can we have her?”
Starfish gave Victoria a look of, hope. Perhaps things will continue to go her way.
“I’m sorry. She’s not mine to give!”
Again there came a whimper from Their Star, who made clopping sounds with her sandals all the way to the car. When she grabbed her drum, and clicked the trunk open, Victoria stamped her feet.
“No! You have to concentrate. Now get in!”
On the way to the University of Oregon, Starfish ran into her pad looking for more info on Professor John von Bond.
“Here’s a stalking report on him. Some chic is trashing his blog. She says it’s real creepy. Let’s have a looksee!”
“Does he say he’s related to me?’
“No, but he claims he is a Comet King, heir to the teaching of Meher Baba!”
“Who’s that? Never mind. We’re here”
Victoria parked haphazardly and put her DIPLOMAT shield in the window. Starfish never went to college. This was her first time on a campus. She took in all the beautiful students. The young women took notice of her, and turned their heads after she passed them. Their was an amazing aura about her. Waves of goosebumps went up and down her half naked body. There was fine mist of perspiration that caught the last light, and were like tiny rainbows. She was electrically charged due to her amazing dancing. However, she was not happy when the beautiful young men did not even look at her. Their heads were down, their eyes locked on their phone screens. At six-two, Starfish wondered if they were intimidated.
Finally, she grabbed one, on his way up river to spawn.
“Excuse me. I couldn’t help but notice your features. Victoria raised her eyebrows when she gently took hold of his chin.
“Very symmetric. I can see your father’s profile. And, you have your mothers high cheekbones. Did you know you are half your mother,and half your father, but, it is through your father…..you find God. Did you know that?…….I’m going to kiss you now!”
Victoria made a move to prevent this kiss, but, was repelled by a powerful energy field that she put around – them. Tilting his head back, Victoria delivered a soft and sensuous kiss, that froze them in time. His cellphone fell to the walkway, but, did not break. There was a beautiful sigh, that sounded like the opening of Morning Glories.
“You can go, now!” And Starfish watched him swim away. Turning, she stopped in her tracks when she saw Victoria was blushing. Their eyes were locked. She got it. Victoria dreamed of being kissed like that. Star approached, took her hand, and they walked the next hundred yards like this, they a rarity, as holding hands on campus went out of style twenty years ago.
“I was conceived a hundred yards from here. I feel it in my bones! I was made – with much love!”
Empathic Take-Down at PK Park
Posted on July 28, 2018 by Royal Rosamond Press
The Royal Janitor
After the Professors one hour lecture, and after taking him to a Cosmic Dinner at the Bum’s Rush Herbal Salad Bar, Victoria was ready to take in an American baseball Game, and get some R&R. Her mind was turning into silly-putty. She needed to get grounded by doing something totally inane. She could not use her mind one minute more, and, had found following American baseball to be totally relaxing. She ate up pitching and batting statistics like they were vallum and Prozac. She knew where this data had come from, and, where it was going. She compared it to knitting.
Miriam seemed spent after her dance-a-thon. John had put her in her place and came close to 86ing her from his lecture after she challenged him about his credentials. She had her I-pod tuned to her favorite music and was ready to hang for a couple of hours while her partner got her jollies. But, this was not meant to be.
Finding the baseball park nearly empty, they took seats right behind the catcher. The Eugene Emeralds were having a terrible season, and were in the cellar. Starfish’s head was bouncing around like she was in the rear window of a automobile. Then, HE came to the mound, and, she froze. He froze too, in the middle of his wind-up. These were warm-up pitches, or, that would have been a balk. There was her beautiful head, hovering above the umpire. Wow! What a…..Enchantress? Dalton shuddered. No woman had looked at him that way. Does she know me?
Victoria was coming back to her seat with her arms full of popcorn hotdogs, banners, soda-pop, and cracker jacks. She noticed the dead silence, and found the source. Their deep gaze was locked onto one another. If you poured cold water om them, they would not flinch.
“Here! Take some of this!”
Miriam did not hear. When she spotted the program under Victoria’s arm, she yanked at it with a growl!
“What the….?”
“I must know his name! She let out a whimper when she read “Dalton Geekie. Oh my God. What a perfect name. It means Town in the valley – with ‘crag’. “Dalton” she whispered, and then charged into her Music Ap for just the right song – their song!
“It’s here! Thank you Jesus!” Looking up, Starfish crossed herself.
“Play Ball!” the umpire shouted, and when Dalton gave the sign of the cross across his powerful chest, Miriam’s heart went pitter-patter – KERTHUNK!
Victoria had her Em’s cap on backwards, and thought she looked pretty cute. She wanted just a little limelight. It would help if someone noticed her and gave her some flirtation. What she was not ready for, was a Christian Warm-up Mating Ritual – with a raging Psychic Empathic meltdown! Miriam’s words came back to haunt her
“I am forbidden to go to Eugene! But, who gives a shit!”
There should have been some questions asked here. But, now it was too late. Starfish had locked her Victim up in an intuitive mind-probe. As the sad Cellos played ‘As I Walk Alone Down the Road’, the movie of her parents first meeting, began to roll. The blanks were being filled in as the first tears welled in Starfishes eyes.
Her father was a Russian who had a scholarship in track. He was winning every hurdle race he was put in. Warming up, he spotted her, in the bleachers. They had to have one another. When the starter pistol went off, they were under the bleachers, mashing their lips together, ripping away at their sports clothes. When they came at the same time, there was loud cheering. One sperm made it to the finished line, and, Miriam was created.
Almost thrown off the team, Ivan made a pledge to the track coach that he would stay away from that Jezebel. She was banned from the stadium, but, Ivan caught a glimpse of Sarah now and then looking thru the bars of the gate. Their love, was banished! This is how Miriam was going to play it for the next three hours, to Victoria’s utter disgust. The mesh of the backstop did not filter out any of their pathos and lust. It was a profound barrier that multiplied their love – ten fold. This, was a Forbidden Love – the best kind!
“Fuck!” Victoria whispered aloud, knowing she could not be heard above a gallery of unhappy cellos. Or, is she listening to morose Gregorian chants, again?
“My new best friend in a Russian Drama Queen!”
The coach thought about taking Dalton out of the game, but, when Miriam began to sob and wail, the crowd got into it. Victoria buried her head in the stats sheet.
“Fuck!”
The trademark of an empath is feeling and absorbing other people’s emotions and/or physical symptoms because of their high sensitivities. These people filter the world through their intuition and have a difficult time intellectualizing their feelings. As a psychiatrist and empath myself, I know the challenges of being a highly sensitive person. When overwhelmed with the impact of stressful emotions, empaths may experience panic attacks, depression, chronic fatigue, food, sex, and drug binges, or exhibit many other physical symptoms that defy traditional diagnosis.
Professor John von Bond
Posted on July 28, 2018 by Royal Rosamond Press
The Royal Janitor
When Miriam beheld the people climbing the stairs to the Jordon Schnitzer Museum, she let go of Victoria’s hand, skipped across the grass, and bounded up the steps – four at a time! Her entrance was like Nureyev flying across the stage. She was an escapee from Botticelli’s Primavera. People gasped! They thought she was part of a show. She was the star ballerina and the Constantine Christian Nudist Camp where she was homeschooled. This was her first encounter with an institution of higher learning.
Espying a group of people before a painting down the hall, she was upon them in seven giant steps. Her long arms reached in, and pushed them aside. There was some complaints. But, when they turned to see a goddess with roses in her hair, and with eyes the color of the sea, they parted as she zeroed in.
Everyone’s mouths were now open, like hers was open. They were seeing this painting for the first time through Myriam’s eyes. She came closer. Her long neck was craned, as she made a figure eight with her head. Now she turned sideways, and starting in the lower left corner she moved her eye across the image, slowly, till she reached the up left corner. Bending down again, she moved even closer, and ran her right eye along the work. People were astonished with her. It was a magnificent ballet. Her long arms moved her hands just above the surface as if she was taking the painting in through some kind of osmosis.
“Oh my God! There is a Möbius circle in here – and PI! How did he do this? First he is the self, then he is the audience. He goes into a total intuitive state, does a loop over, then dips down into the subconscious. Now he is walking on the dark side of the moon. There is no hope for his return. His work is surrendered to a higher power who ingnites a spark of divine inspiration! Alas, he bursts forth in The finishing!………It is Finns!
Myriam turns to face her audience. Her blue-green eyes fill with a look of astonishment.
“He is……Co-Creator!”
Around twelve people – burst out in applause!
“How wonderful!”
“I never realized this before!”
“What beauty!”
“She is – so right!”
Like a panther, she left this work and stalked off looking for another. The people moved in a fill the void. They soaked up the energy Myriam left behind. Their eyes had been opened.
Victoria watched her amazing friend, her head was above the rest, as she gazed around from the top of the mountain she had just climbed.
“Come Starfish. We are late!”
Moving into a large room, they got their first look at Mr. von Bond. There was a long leather seat with six people sitting before their Master. Myraim crept up on the seat, pushed two people aside, then sat smack dab in the middle, up front, not but fifteen feet of the old wizard that reminded Myriam of the Russian Saint Nicholas. John was going to give her something valuable – for free! She dared not move lest she be disqualified, deprived of this blessing.
John, was completely unnerved. He had to blink several times, because it was like looking at a photograph, a still life, a breathing portrait, that did not move an inch! This beautiful creature had roses in her hair. She was so completely, so utterly, receptive. And, she was more than wide awake. There was an awaking going on inside her. John von Bond, felt like a work of art. He was, her masterpiece. She, had found him.
Fermor, Bond, and Fleming
Posted on April 16, 2021 by Royal Rosamond Press
The Real Royal Janitor
Last night I came upon an article about the love letters written between Ian Fleming and his wife, and was reminded of the fiery relationship I and Rena Easton nee’ Christensen, had. I lamented that we had not continued our LETTER EXCHANGE so that there would be such history available to me, the only living human being authoring a James Bond book – because I am related to Ian Flaming, and his tragic son, who was name after his uncle, who is the son of the artist Augustus John, who allowed Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor’s uncle, Howard Young, to sell his artwork in America. Around 9:00 A.M. on April 16th. 2021, I discovered that Fleming and his family were friendly with the Fermor family, who married into the Hesketh family, who married into the Sharon family of Belmont. This gives me the credentials – I deserve! I am a REAL AGENT FOR FREEDOM!
A week ago I was going to blog on a reunion at the Palace Hotel with fundraiser for ‘The Royal Janitor’. There would be a train trip to Belmont where a Celebrity Labyrinth would be made in Twin Pines Park. I would invite my Star, Lara Roozemond, and, my Muse, Rena Easton, whose grandmother was so grateful I rescued her, a Beautiful Damsel in Distress. I am so grateful to the World Wide Web for making my dream come true. I have not let my women down.
John Presco 007
Copyright 2021
President: Royal Rosamond Press
Ann Fleming, née Charteris, was born into the aristocracy and married wealthy men. Her first husband was Shane O’Neill, the 3rd Baron O’Neill. After his death in military action in 1944, she married the newspaper magnate Esmond Harmsworth, the 2nd Viscount Rothermere.
Ian Fleming’s Love Letters at Sotheby’s | The Book Collector
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Ian Fleming – Talitha Getty – Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor
I love doing Family Trees. I am a genealogist of renown, for in tracing the source of the Rosamond name to Rougemont, I have proven the Knight Templars owned the Shroud of Turin. Jean de Rougemont, is the Queen Mother of most of the Royal Habsburgs you see in the large canvas in back of me.
Twenty minutes ago I found the image of a Blue Knight on a Black Horse. It is a Frisian Horse. This horse and rider is the coat of arms of the city of Leeks in the Netherlands. This is where the artist, Willem Jilts Pol was born. That is Willem with his wife Arnoldine Adriana “Adine” Mees below the photo of Elizabeth Taylor, her son, Christopher Wilding, who married Aileen Getty. Now, add the artist, Christine Rosamond Benton, to this group, and you have a Art Dynasty, and the Bond Dynasty, created by Ian Fleming, who had no idea what an amazing seed he planted! That is the actor and artist, Michael Wilding, doing the portrait of a Rose. I am in love with art, poetry, and, history. I suppose I am the family historian, that can be quite the orphan. Pol’s portraits look like Liz! Connections!
I am going to post more on the quest for a Female Bond, that describes her as a kick-ass lady. Why must she have this attribute? There are four people who qualify to be both Bond genders, and that is John Paul Getty, and his wife Talitha, born, Talitha Dina Pol, and, Liz Taylor, and Richard Burton. These two men, and these two women, knew everyone, and partied like there was no tomorrow. Ian Fleming wanted Burton to play James Bond. My kindred turned down the offer. Here is Richard with his wife as an event, smoking a cigarette. How much has he had to drink? The look in Liz’s eyes, is a tell. Has anybody ever counted the drinks James takes in his movies and books?
Owning thirty years of sobriety, my Bond does battle with alcohol – out of the gate! There is no greater tragedy then to see two people destroy themselves with alcohol and drugs – and each other. This was the case of John and Talitha. They did everything they could to save each other. Talitha, lost her quest. John got sober, and did many fine things in the world of art. He was knighted after he became a British subject. My sister, Christine drowned on her first sober birthday.
Before I found the Blue Knight, I found a wooden bridge to Lara’s house. I was looking at where she lives in comparison to Leeks. It’s a fairytale setting. Lara’s father is a renowned breeder of the Frisian Horse. If I insulted him, and Lara, I apologize.
When I saw the Blue Knight, I alas was able to accept the truth……..I have a huge crush on Lara Roozemond, and she knows it. She is my muse, and my model for Victoria Bond, whom I can not toss aside. The beautiful black horse, will go, where it will go. Without love, none of the people you see in this post, would exist. In saying this, I am a candidate for the New James Bond, the better lover. Did Ian Fleming have children? Yes! Did Ian name his son after Caspar John, the Sea Lord? That is his father with the writer, James Joyce.
In finding the Frisian horse, comes the answer to the quest-ion – Is Lara Roozemond our kin? Does she fit – with these? In God’s name will some bright young chap and being, go put a love letter in Lara’s mailbox! Show some courage! Write her a poem!
I responded to Lara’s poems and suggested she author an epic poem. I thought she responded to this suggestion – with another poem. I now believe I was ignored, because, there are other old men enamored by this beautiful poetess, probably because they understand she is the epitome of Western Culture that is based upon Courtly Love, and ‘The Unattainable Woman’ .
My fiancé’s kin was a major player in King Rene’s court. I have Victoria Bond seducing young equestrians – with a bandage. While in prison, Rene wrote and illustrated one our greatest books. It begins with a knight waking to find his heart is lying next to him. He has been wounded by Love. He is in need of a bandage. My Bond, is an epic poem. Only brave men can author a kick-ass poem!
If I come in as Bond, I will do all I can to destroy everyone in America who teaches, it is not a matter of what you know, but the color of your skin. Hitler’s sickness is on the rise in Europe. What he did to the Dutch People, is the unsung atrocity. He starved them to death – out of jealousy! It is not a matter of black lives matter, monsters came amongst the whites, always with the same lesson, that they do terrible things – for our own good! It is a matter of cutting their lesson short, for they can’t wait to hurt every man, every woman, and every child who tread lightly upon the earth, looking for love.
Never again! Lara is – The Hope of Tomorrow! This is why I am in love with her! Art, is hope! Lara is a work of art.
“I am Arion!”
Jon Presco
President: Royal Rosamond Press
LararoozemondLeave a Commenton Humans
Humans
Aiming to make our life at ease, eventually destroying all the seas.
Technologies keep improving, fossil fuels keep polluting.
Our impact is too strong, the limits are gone.
Human,
you
me
us
Humans breathing the same polluted air, humans everywhere.
Kissing each other in the neck, shooting each other in the back.
Humans swimming in the same plastic oceans, humans full of emotions.
Striving for more, bigger and better, raising children into money go-getters.
We should all feel the fear for the dying atmosphere.
It’s selfishness we need to overcome, before we can all be one
We close our eyes and walk away so it’s not us who will the pay the price
Scared for the unknown, scared to be overthrown.
You,
me,
us.
AT THAT HOUR
By JAMES JOYCE
At that hour when all things have repose,
O lonely watcher of the skies,
Do you hear the night wind and the sighs
Of harps playing unto Love to unclose
The pale gates of sunrise?
When all things repose, do you alone
Awake to hear the sweet harps play
To Love before him on his way,
And the night wind answering in antiphon
Till night is overgone?
Play on, invisible harps, unto Love,
Whose way in heaven is aglow
Spouses and children
- Married 24 March 1952, Jamaica, West Indies, to Anne Geraldine Mary Charteris, born 19 June 1913, Deceased about July 1981 age at death: possibly 68 years old (Parents : Guy Lawrence Charteris, Hon. 1886-1967 & Frances Lucy Tennant †1925) with
Getty donated over £140m to various artistic and cultural causes. The National Gallery alone received £50m from him. He was awarded a knighthood in the Order of the British Empire (KBE) in 1987, but as a foreign national he could not use the title “Sir”. In December 1997 he was granted British citizenship and immediately renounced his US nationality. The Queen reportedly commented: “Now you can use your title, that’s nice.
http://rosamond.com/collections/33008
http://www.viviensmodels.com.au/models/lara-roozemond/
| Francis Marion Taylor | |
| Birthdate: | 1860 (86) |
| Birthplace: | California |
| Death: | 1946 (86) |
| Immediate Family: | Son of Peter Taylor and Margaret Jane Taylor Husband of Elizabeth Mary Taylor Father of John Taylor and Francis Lenn Taylor Brother of John Lewis Taylor; Union T Taylor; George W Taylor; Albert Taylor; Benton Virgil Taylor and 4 others |
|---|---|
| Occupation: | Art Dealer. |
| Managed by: | Private User |
| Last Updated: | December 27, 2016 |
| James Rosemond | |
| Birthdate: | circa 1730 (83) |
| Death: | circa 1813 (75-91) |
| Immediate Family: | Son of Unknown Rosemond Husband of Nancy Cook Father of Bennet Rosamond; James Rossman; Phillip Rosemond; Edward Rosemond; William Rosemond and 10 others |
|---|---|
| Frank Wesley “Royal” Rosamond | |
| Birthdate: | December 18, 1881 (71) |
| Birthplace: | Missouri |
| Death: | circa November 26, 1953 (67-75) Prob Oklahoma |
| Place of Burial: | Sunny Lane Sec. 13, lot S13-RN-7, Del City, Oklahoma |
|---|---|
| Immediate Family: | Son of William Thomas Rosamond and Ida Rose Husband of Mary Magdalene Weineke Father of Private; Private; Private and Private Half brother of Private and Private |
| https://www.geni.com/people/Frank-Rosamond/6000000003263472159 | |
It would be nice to write about Aileen Getty without identifying her first as an heiress, as the granddaughter of the late oil baron J. Paul Getty, as the sister of Paul, who lost an ear to Italian gangsters at 16 and his lucidity to a stroke at 25. Aileen would probably appreciate a description of herself so separate from her legacy, distanced as she seems from it, damaged as she has been by the side effects of privilege. But such an independent identity will never be hers to enjoy, in her lifetime or after, so let’s get it over with: Aileen Getty is the 36-year-old daughter of Jean Paul Getty, Jr. by his first wife, Gail; she should be partial heir to her family’s $750 million share of the J. Paul Getty fortune. Which only means that when Aileen has a showing of her art at a gallery, the critics get more pissed off than usual if they don’t like the art
Talitha Dina Pol was born in Java, then part of the Dutch East Indies (now Indonesia), daughter of the artists Willem Jilts Pol (nl) (1905–88) and Arnoldine Adriana “Adine” Mees (1908–1948).[1]
Her father subsequently married Poppet John (1912–97), daughter of the painter Augustus John (1878–1961), a pivotal figure in the world of Bohemian culture and fashion. She was thus the step-granddaughter of both Augustus John and his muse and second wife, Dorothy “Dorelia” McNeil (1881–1969), who was a fashion icon in the early years of the 20th century. By Ian Fleming‘s widowed mother, Evelyn Ste Croix Fleming née Rose, Augustus John had a daughter and Talitha’s aunt, Amaryllis Fleming (1925–1999), who became a noted cellist.
http://www.geneagraphie.com/getperson.php?personID=I445189&tree=1
Descendants of Willem Jilts Pol
| 1 Talitha Dina Pol |
1 Willem Jilts Pol (img. 1) was born on Sunday 26 March 1905 in Leek (Gr). Willem died on Monday 15 August 1988 in Ramatuelle, Frankrijk, aged 83.
(1) At the age of 26, Willem married Arnoldine Adriana Mees, aged 23, on Tuesday 15 December 1931 in Wassenaar (Zh). Arnoldine was born on Friday 13 March 1908 in Rotterdam (Zh), daughter of Willem Cornelis Mees and Arnoldine Johanna Elizabeth Berg. Arnoldine died on Sunday 11 July 1948 in Den Haag (Zh), aged 40 (cause: als gevolg van de ontberingen in de jappenkampen.).
Occupation:
| Tekenares, illustratrice, grafisch ontwerpster, grafica. (http://explore.rkd.nl/nl/artists/92737) |
(2) At the age of 46 or 47, Willem married Elizabeth Anne (Poppet) John (img. 2), aged 39 or 40, in 1952. Poppet was born on Saturday 9 March 1912 in Alderney, Dorset, Verenigd Koninkrijk, daughter of Augustus Edwin John and Dorothy John. Poppet died on Wednesday 22 October 1997 in Londen, Verenigd Koninkrijk, aged 85.
Child of Willem and Arnoldine:
1 Talitha Dina Pol, born on Friday 18 October 1940 in Modjokerto, Oost-Java, Indonesië. Follow 2.
| 3 talitha-getty-pol | 4 Talitha Dina Getty-Pol (1940-1971) |
2 Talitha Dina Pol (img. 3 and 4) was born on Friday 18 October 1940 in Modjokerto, Oost-Java, Indonesië, daughter of Willem Jilts Pol (see 1) and Arnoldine Adriana Mees. Talitha died on Wednesday 14 July 1971 in Rome, Italië, aged 30.
Occupation:
| Actrice. – Actress. (http://nl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Talitha_Getty) |
At the age of 26, Talitha married Eugene Paul Getty, aged 34, on Saturday 10 December 1966 in Londen, Verenigd Koninkrijk. Eugene was born on Wednesday 7 September 1932. Eugene died on Thursday 17 April 2003 in Verenigd Koninkrijk, aged 70.
Notitie naam: Note of namegiving:
| At birth he was given the name Eugene Paul Getty, but in later life he adopted other names, including Paul Getty, John Paul Getty, Jean Paul Getty, Jr. and John Paul Getty II. Bij de geboorte kreeg hij de naam Eugene Paul Getty, maar op latere leeftijd hij andere namen aangenomen, waaronder Paul Getty, John Paul Getty, Jean Paul Getty, Jr en John Paul Getty II. |
Child of Talitha and Eugene:
1 Tara Gabriel Gramophone Galaxy Getty, born in July 1968 in Rome, Italië. Follow 3.
3 Tara Gabriel Gramophone Galaxy Getty was born in July 1968 in Rome, Italië, son of Eugene Paul Getty and Talitha Dina Pol (see 2).
Notitie naam: Note of namegiving:
| Tara Gabriel Getty became a noted ecological conservationist in Africa, dropped his third and fourth forenames, and took Irish citizenship in 1999. He and his wife Jessica (a chalet maid he met in Verbier) had three children, including a daughter named Talitha.Tara Gabriel Getty werd een bekende ecologische natuurbeschermer in Afrika, liet zijn derde en vierde voornamen verwijderen en nam Ierse burgerschap in 1999. Hij en zijn vrouw Jessica (een chalet medewerkster die hij in Verbier, Zwitserland had ontmoet) hebben drie kinderen, waaronder een dochter genaamd Talitha. |
Christopher Edward Wilding
Parents
| Michael Howard Wilding 1912-1979 |
 | Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor 1932-2011 |
Spouses and children
- Married to Aileen Getty(Parents : Jean Paul Getty, Sir 1932-2003 & Abigail Harris) with
Siblings
- Michael Howard Wilding Married to Brooke G. Palance
Half-siblings
| On ‘s side Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor, born 27 February 1932 – Hampstead, London, England, Deceased 23 March 2011 – Los Angeles, Los Angeles Co., CA age at death: 79 years old |
with Michael Todd, born 22 June 1909 – Minneapolis, Hennepin Co., MN, Deceased 23 March 1958 – Grants, Cibola Co., NM age at death: 48 years old , buried – Beth Aaron Cem., Chicago, IL Elizabeth Frances Todd Married to X Tiveywith Richard Burton, born 10 November 1925 – Pontrhydyfen, Wales, Deceased 5 August 1985 – Céligny, Geneva, Switzerland age at death: 59 years old Maria Burton Married to X Carson |
Maternal grand-parents, uncles and aunts
Francis Lenn Taylor 1897-1968  (1926) Sara Viola Warmbrodt 1896-1994 |
Willem JiltsPol
- Born in 1905
- Deceased in 1988 , age at death: 83 years old
- Painter
Spouses, children, grandchildrenand great-grandchildren
- Married to Poppet John, born in 1912, Deceased in 1997 age at death: 85 years old (Parents : Augustus Edwin John, Major 1878-1961 & Dorothy McNeill 1881-1969)
- Married to Arnoldine Ardriana Mees with
- Talitha Dina Pol1940-1971 married 10 December 1966, Rome, Lazio, Italy, toJean Paul Getty, Sir1932-2003 with
- Tara Gabriel Getty married toJessica x with :
Notes
Parents
| Jean Paul Getty, Sir 1932-2003 |
| Talitha Dina Pol 1940-1971Actress |
Spouses and children
- Married to Jessica x with
Half-siblings
| On ‘s side Jean Paul Getty, Sir , born 7 September 1932, Deceased 17 April 2003 – London, Middlesex, England age at death: 70 years old |
with Abigail Harris Jean Paul Getty Married to Gisela Schmidt Aileen Getty Married to Christopher Edward Wilding Aileen Getty Married to Bartolomeo Ruspoli Mark Getty Married to Domitilla Harding Ariadine Getty |
Paternal grand-parents, uncles and aunts
Jean Paul Getty 1892-1976  (1923) Jeanette Demont 1905 |
| George Franklin Getty 1924-1973 |  (1951) |
| Jean Paul Getty 1892-1976 (1926) Allene Ashby ca 1909 |
| Jean Paul Getty 1892-1976 (1928) Adolphine Helmle |
| Jean Paul Getty 1892-1976 (1932) Helen Ann Rork 1908-1988 |
- Jean Paul Getty, Sir 1932-2003
1(1956)
4 children , 2(1966)
1 child , 3(1994)- (1964)
4 children
| Jean Paul Getty 1892-1976 (1939) Louise Dudley Lynch |
| Timothy Ware Getty 1946-1958 |
| Augustus Edwin JohnPrint Family TreeMajorBorn 4 January 1878 – Pembrokeshire, WalesDeceased 31 October 1961 – Hampshire, England , age at death: 83 years old1 file available |
Parents
Spouses and children
- Married in 1900 to Ida Nettleship, born in 1877, Deceased in 1907 age at death: 30 years old (Parents : John Trivett Nettleship 1841-1902 & Ada Hinton) with
- Caspar John, Admiral 1903-1984 married to ? ?
- Romilly John 1906-1986 married to ? ?
- Married to Dorothy McNeill, born 19 December 1881 – Camberwell District, London, England, Deceased 23 July 1969 age at death: 87 years old with
- Poppet John 1912-1997 married to Willem Jilts Pol 1905-1988
- Vivien John 1915-1994 relationship with ? ?
- Married between 1917 and 1925 to Evelyn Beatrice Sainte Croix Rose, born in 1885 – London, Middlesex, England, Deceased 27 July 1964 – Sussex, England age at death: 79 years old (Parents : George Alfred Sainte Croix Rose 1854- & Beatrice Quain) with
- Amaryllis Marie Louise Fleming 1925-1999
| (hide) |
Timeline
| 4 January 1878 : | Birth – Pembrokeshire, Wales Sources: Dowling Family Tree – Tim Dowling – rootsweb, 2001-2015 – – electronic – I130562 |
| — : | Pic – |
| — : | Occupation – Artist |
| 1900 : | Marriage (with Ida Nettleship) |
| between 1917 and 1925 : | Marriage (with Evelyn Beatrice Sainte Croix Rose) |
| 31 October 1961 : | Death – Hampshire, England Sources: Dowling Family Tree – Tim Dowling – rootsweb, 2001-2015 – – electronic – I130562 |
Amaryllis Marie Louise Fleming
- Born in 1925
- Deceased 27 July 1999 , age at death: 74 years old
Parents
 | Augustus Edwin John, Major 1878-1961 |
| Evelyn Beatrice Sainte Croix Rose 1885-1964 |
Half-siblings
| On ‘s side Augustus Edwin John, Major , born 4 January 1878 – Pembrokeshire, Wales, Deceased 31 October 1961 – Hampshire, England age at death: 83 years old | On ‘s side Evelyn Beatrice Sainte Croix Rose, born in 1885 – London, Middlesex, England, Deceased 27 July 1964 – Sussex, England age at death: 79 years old |
| with Ida Nettleship, born in 1877, Deceased in 1907 age at death: 30 years old Caspar John, Admiral 1903-1984 Married to ? ? Romilly John 1906-1986 Married to ? ?with Dorothy McNeill, born 19 December 1881 – Camberwell District, London, England, Deceased 23 July 1969 age at death: 87 years old Poppet John 1912-1997 Married to Willem Jilts Pol 1905-1988 Vivien John 1915-1994 Relationship with ? ? | with Valentine Fleming, Major , born 17 February 1882 – Fife, Scotland, Deceased 20 May 1917 – Picardie, France age at death: 35 years old Robert Peter Fleming 1907-1971 Married to Celia Elizabeth Johnson, Dame 1908-1982 Ian Lancaster Fleming, Commander 1908-1964 Married 24 March 1952, Jamaica, West Indies, to Anne Geraldine Mary Charteris 1913-ca 1981 Michael Valentine Paul Fleming, Cpt. †1940 Married 28 July 1934 to Letitia Blanche Borthwick 1913 |
Paternal grand-parents, uncles and aunts
| Augustus Edwin John, Major 1878-1961 | 1(1900) 2 children , 22 children , 3(1917..1925)1 child |
Maternal grand-parents, uncles and aunts
| Ian Lancaster FlemingPrint Family TreeCommanderBorn 23 May 1908 – Mayfair, London, EnglandDeceased 12 August 1964 – Canterbury, Kent, England , age at death: 56 years old1 file available |
Parents
| Valentine Fleming, Major 1882-1917 |
| Evelyn Beatrice Sainte Croix Rose 1885-1964 |
Spouses and children
- Married 24 March 1952, Jamaica, West Indies, to Anne Geraldine Mary Charteris, born 19 June 1913, Deceased about July 1981 age at death: possibly 68 years old (Parents : Guy Lawrence Charteris, Hon. 1886-1967 & Frances Lucy Tennant †1925) with
Siblings
- Robert Peter Fleming 1907-1971 Married to Celia Elizabeth Johnson, Dame 1908-1982
- Michael Valentine Paul Fleming, Cpt. †1940 Married 28 July 1934 to Letitia Blanche Borthwick 1913
Half-siblings
| On ‘s side Evelyn Beatrice Sainte Croix Rose, born in 1885 – London, Middlesex, England, Deceased 27 July 1964 – Sussex, England age at death: 79 years old |
| with Augustus Edwin John, Major , born 4 January 1878 – Pembrokeshire, Wales, Deceased 31 October 1961 – Hampshire, England age at death: 83 years old Amaryllis Marie Louise Fleming 1925-1999 |
Paternal grand-parents, uncles and aunts
| Robert Fleming 1845-1933 Sarah Kate Hindmarsh 1857- |
| Valentine Fleming, Major 1882-1917 | (1906) 3 children |
Maternal grand-parents, uncles and aunts
| Evelyn Beatrice Sainte Croix Rose 1885-1964 |
| James Rosemond | |
| Birthdate: | circa 1730 (83) |
| Death: | circa 1813 (75-91) |
| Immediate Family: | Son of Unknown Rosemond Husband of Nancy Cook Father of Bennet Rosamond; James Rossman; Phillip Rosemond; Edward Rosemond; William Rosemond and 10 others |
|---|---|
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One response to “Ian Fleming – Talitha Getty – Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor”
Royal Rosamond PressJune 24, 2018 at 10:19 pmEditReblogged this on Rosamond Press and commented:“I am Arion!” Lara Roozemond, is ‘The One’. All signs pointto her. She has to be ready to go. The Great Muse is already dictating to me her Great Scene, where she is transformed. She has been chosen to save the Royal Navy. Why a young Dutch model who just took up acting. Can she play Victoria Bond? This is a movied within a movie. We go with Lara, because she’s all we got! BE PREPARED!Reply
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William Morris and Joaquin Miller
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, 2016 by 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.
http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=29810634
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.
“TO THE ROSSETTIS”
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, 2014 by Royal Rosamond Press
Joaquin Miller, William Morris & Me
Posted on August 5, 2013 by Royal Rosamond Press
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?
http://tolkiensring.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=authors&action=display&thread=675
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.
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….
Miller earned an estimated $3,000 working as a Pony Express rider, and used the money to move to Oregon. With the help of his friend, Senator Joseph Lane, he became editor of the Democratic Register in Eugene,[7] a role he held from March 15 to September 20, 1862.[8] Though no copies survive, it was known as sympathetic to the Confederacy until it was forced to shut down.[9] That year, Miller married Theresa Dyer (alias Minnie Myrtle) on September 12, 1862, in her home four days after meeting her[10] in Port Orford, Oregon.
Swinburne Meets Joaquin Miller.” New York Times (10 May 1931) [Online: BR5]
Picture with the text: “Once Joaquin Miller and a British Writer Called on Swinburne, Whom the Englishman Claimed as an Intimate Friend. They Announced Themselves as Joaquin Miller, the American Poet, and a Friend. Swinburne Sent Down Word to ‘Bring the American Poet Up and Tell the Friend to Go to Hell.’” [MCK]
Algernon Charles Swinburne (London, April 5, 1837 – London, April 10, 1909) was an English poet, playwright, novelist, and critic. He invented the roundel form, wrote several novels, and contributed to the famous Eleventh Edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. He was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature in every year from 1903 to 1907 and again in 1909.[1]
At Oxford Swinburne met several Pre-Raphaelites, including William Morris and Dante Gabriel Rossetti. After leaving college he lived in London and started an active writing career, where Rossetti was delighted with his ‘little Northumbrian friend’, a reference to Swinburne’s diminutive height—he was just over five feet tall.[citation needed]
The first of Rosamond’s five scenes is the most forceful in demonstrating Swinburne’s debt to troubadour conventions as well as to Pre-Raphaelite stylistic influences. Courtly love preoccupations and the medieval setting overshadow elements of Jacobean revenge tragedy throughout the play. Swinburne’s Rosamond, rather than the historical queen of the Courts of Love, espouses the religion of love and, as a result of her lived creed, is poisoned by Eleanor out of jealousy.
Swinburne’s choice of the “rose of the world” as one of his first subjects for verse suggests that he associated his conception of Rosamond with courtly love allegory, specifically the Roman de la Rose, in which the rose is the eternal symbol of the beloved and of the perfect beauty that is fearfully transient but simultaneously immortal.3 As in Swinburne’s later lyrics “Before the Mirror” and “The Year of the Rose,” Rosamond’s central symbol is the rose, and, like them, this play recapitulates the major preoccupations of courtly love poetry: the apotheosis of beauty; love as the necessary consequence of beauty fear of mutability; and a final insistence on the immortality of both love and beauty, which can be attained, paradoxically, only through death.
[39/40] The first scene of Rosamond characterizes its heroine as simultaneously enchanted with her own beauty, exalted by her love affair with Henry, and insecure about the permanence of her beauty and her love. Surrounded by the ephemeral rose blossoms with which she identifies in the maze at Woodstock, she is alone with her maid, Constance. Here Rosamond reveals her concern with the world’s slanderous gossip about her, and as the scene progresses she attempts gradually to rebuild her self-confidence-in her beauty, in Henry’s continuing devotion, and in the unassailable value of beauty and of love. At first, she is defensive:
See,
If six leaves make a rose, I stay red yet
And the wind nothing ruins me; who says
I am at waste? (Tragedies, I, 231)
Is thy name
Babe? Sweet are babes as flowers that wed the sun,
But man may be not born a babe again,
And less than man may woman. Rosamund
Stands radiant now in royal pride of place
As wife of thine and queen of Lombards–not
Cunimund’s daughter. Hadst thou slain her sire
Shamefully, shame were thine to have sought her hand
And shame were hers to love thee: but he died
Manfully, by thy mightier hand than his
Manfully mastered. War, born blind as fire,
Fed not as fire upon her: many a maid
As royal dies disrobed of all but shame
And even to death burnt up for shame’s sake: she
Lives, by thy grace, imperial.
ROSAMUND.
I know it.
I leave thee not the choice. Keep thou thy hand
Bloodless, and Hildegard, whom yet I love,
Dies, and in fire, the harlot’s death of shame.
Last night she lured thee hither. Hate of me,
Because of late I smote her, being in wrath
Forgetful of her noble maidenhood,
Stung her for shame’s sake to take hands with shame.
This if I swear, may she unswear it? Thou
Canst not but say she bade thee seek her. She
Lives while I will, as Albovine and thou
Live by my grace and mercy. Live, or die.
But live thou shalt not longer than her death,
Her death by burning, if thou slay not him.
I see my death shine in thine eyes: I see
My present death inflame them. That were not
Her surety, Almachildes. Thou shouldst know me
Now. Though thou slay me, this may save not her.
My lines are laid about her life, and may not
By breach of mine be broken.
Biography
From 1902 Eleanor Fortescue-Brickdale worked both as a painter and illustrator of fine books, among them Alfred Tennyson’s Poems in 1905 and Robert Browning’s Pippa Passes in 1908. She was the first female member of the Institute of Painters in Oils in 1902, a member of the RWS and also taught at the Byam Shaw School of Arts.
c
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Royal Rosamond Press
d on December 6, 2023 by Royal Rosamond Press
The Royal Janitor
by
John Presco
Copyright 2023
Victoria Bond got to see how BAD and British Intelligence dealt with an agent, or employee, who was definitely – out of her/his tree! The Wizard was able to piece together the delusions her wife was experiencing, and got a good look at the Christian Replacement Plan of the Mount Shasta Evangelicals who were apologists for the glaring flaws of Biblical stories. Noah and The Flood was a huge problem in the Christian plot to take over te United States Government, and the British Empire. Real scientists had proven the earth was billions of years old, and humanoids had roamed the earth for millions of years – and did evolve from primates! This was a slap in the face to the Lovers of the Bible, and Jesus Christ. It kept the real Christ in the margins of what is – not real. There are genealogies that depict Jesus’ descent from Adam ad Eve, but, are not clear about his decent from Noah and his children. Why did God wipe out all the human beings on the planet – but spared Noah and his family?
Victoria refused to get into theological discussion with Starfish, because she was not a believer, and thus knew next to nothing about the one God of the Jews, who she doubted was the Creator of Everything. With the appearance of many shooting stats, comets, asteroids and Northern lights, Miriam Starfish Christling was convinced God was bringing a new wave of Near-Men-Primates from The Creator Planet – to earth – so they an replace the last wave of primates who were damaged when the Dark Star broke the beam of the Rainbow Bridge that transported God’s Children to Earth. This Rainbow Arc in the Heavens became Noah’s Ark in the damaged history report, that left out the severe mental illness that overcame Man, that is…..The Fall! God’s plan was to create a New Arc of Colorful Light, and bring a undamaged Race of Men and Women to His beloved planet – so they can kill off the Damaged Ones – and rebuild the World the way God intended. The timing of all this, was explained in The New Timing, which Starfish mastered by the age of eleven. She was the Chosen Clock of God! The Wizard found her Book of God’s Timing, which explained how God could speed up HIS EVOLUTION. In God Time, the Near-Men will evolve into a far superior race – that will rule God’s Green Earth,
“We’re already here! We have – evolved!” Starfish told The Wizard, who gave his report to M15.
“Are you saying you are not the person-primate I interviewed for a job?”
“Yes! A billion years had gone by since the attach on the Super Nova Music Festival on the Sukkot. “
The Wizard had mastered in psychology at Harvard and surmised Starfish was suffered from Disassociation due to the death of her parents, and her beloved Nova Dancers. M15 wanted to dispose of Starfish.
“She is a danger to herself and others!”
“If we do that, then we lose Victoria – who has an uncanny sixth sense. Her dream about the Ghost Fleet had come true. In the last threes years the super powers have build over two hundred warships. Several Nations are sending a fleet to the Mediterranean in anticipation of a widening war, that some experts are saying is the coming War of Armageddon. I tried to coax information on the Biblical War of God, out of Starfish. She said the battle is already raging, and what we are seeing is, Divine Time Leaks.”
“I am instructed to join the battle. Ive ‘been drafted. I am a colonel in the Royal Christian Airforce of King Jesus. I’m on a bombing mission right now!”
“What are you bombing!” asked The Wizard.
“If I told you, I would have to kill you!”
The British agents came for Starfish in the middle of the night – with giant nets that caught er after she was darted. She cried out like a wild chimpanzee. She told Victoria she was mastering Near-Human Speak. As a coincidence, a primate answered her. There was a hunt for a pet chimpanzee in the South Eugene Hills. KEZI asked the owner to come fortth.
A month after Starfish was put on a military jet for England, Victoria finally felt she had got caught up. On her desk was the Tuberville report, along with the Mike Johnson evaluation. Both men were giving signals to the Christian Nationalist – who wanted Trump reelected. Then there was the attack on college presidents for not demonizing Hamas. But what was truly profound was her report on Navy buildups. She saw a pattern that seemed to have a mind of its own. How could billions of dollars be diverted to a massive build-up with anyone’s intelligence agency taking note. BAD was the only one on it. Victoria hd to admit that she was the most powerful spy in the world. She had been move to the center of th vortex, the labyrinth of secret information. She got to play – God!
Owning this secular idea, Victoria went to an AI Image generator. Other agent were doing self-portraits. V was serious to see the results. She typed in….”The Spy of Roses” and hit the “Generate” button, and gasped! She had icy pale blue eyes, as did other members of the Rosemond family she had summonsed on the internet. She discovered she was related to Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor, and….
“Cheeeekha – ook, ookmm cha!”
The hair on Victoria was tingling. She was covered in goosebumps! She raced to the balcony overlooing the night nights of Eugene Oregon!
“Youre not a chimpanzee! Your a human being. Are you a male, or, a female!” A neighbor’s light went on. A button was pushed that turned on a camera and recorder. Evidence was being collected to fuell a lawsuit. An irate woman – wanted Victoria – out of there, before her crazy mate returned.
“Ook! Oook!”
“You’re a male! Why do I know this?”
Just then, the phone rang!
“Starfish has escaped!”
“She might be….”
“She was just spotted in splashing for joy in the Princess Diana monument. She was making monkey sounds. Children ran to her and joined her in a wild dance!”
To be continued.
TZK
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diana,_Princess_of_Wales_Memorial_Fountain
The Royal Janitor
by
John Presco
Copyright 2023
Chapter: Colonel Christling of The CCAF
Victoria Rosemond Bond refused to return to BAD headquarters on the Isle of Wight. She loved her home in Eugene, and was experiencing total clarity, now that “The Nutcase” was gone. Bond winced every time The Wizard called her wife that. But, it was true. There was no escaping the truth. She had not been spotted for nearly a year. They almost caught her at the Princess Di Monument, but she sprinted into the woods. The children – cheered! The news in America and Britain called her Shena of the Jungle. A doll was made and was a hot seller. Swift wrote a hit song. that made a connection to her last name and how fast Starfish ran.
With her morning cup of Java beside her, V turned on her three giant televisions, and began to map the sightings of the renegade air force that called itself The Cosmic Crusader Airforce. They were made up of Americans, Russians, and Israelis who were bonded by two passages of the Old Testament, and two passages in the New. These messages from God, had yet to be identified. Those in the know, deciphered the clues. If Starfish had not gone AWOL, then BAD and M15 – would know.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. V put her coffee cup down, and went the door, irritated with her new bodyguard who lived in the converted gardening shack. She had given orders to Thomas to not let anyone near the house. Who could it be…..The Jehovah’s Witnesses. Opening the door, she suppressed a scream.
“Hello, Love! I’m back!”
Because she was still in love with her wife, who never looked so handsome, and masculine, she wanted her so much, to be her husband for a change. But when Starfish did not pickup on hw hot she was, V looked into her eyes, and her hot blood turned as cold as ice.. V went deeper, very deep into the blankness of her look that was hiding something, hiding a powerful emotion. What was this look saying.
“Did I ever tell you the story of the fish that lived in the depth of Lake….”
“What? What did you say!”
“I didn’t say anything. Did you see my lips move?”
“No, I….Oh my God! You have cuts on your face that needed to be treated or they will scar. Your beautiful face will be scarred for life!” V took a step towards the love of her life so she could caress her wounds and heal them somehow, But was stopped in her tracks by this statement.
“I want to have scars. They were made by God when my cockpit exploded when a Czech fighter got me in his crosshairs. I saw it explode – and the large bullet whiz past my ear. It was like slow-motion – and a near-death experience. I came that close, and barely made it back to the base. Can you read what my scars say. I tried to teach you the Hebrew alphabet, but you were closed to the truth. Read my scars, Victoria. What is the first letter? It’s a T. The second letter is a Z. The third letter is a K. What am I? “
“What? What are you talking about? You’re Miriam Starfish Bond – my wife!”
“WRONG! I am a TZADIK. I am one of the Righteous Ones, if not – THE Righteous One!
V was able to step back and get the complete picture. For sure, the woman, the human being she loved to death, was the craziest person on earth. And this was a consolation prize that comes with the total madness of her.
“Can I come in. I have something very important to show you!”
V looked even deeper into Starfish’s eyes, that were bottomless. They kept retreating from her so she would not read……God’s Message? Starfish was visualizing doing something, and her mind was almost made up she was going to do it.
“You can come in. but you have to take that hat off – and leave it outside. I will not allow it in my home!”
V almost buckled at the knees. She was following the Wizard’s instruction who was a Aikido Master..
“Never allow the aggressor to own a picture of what they want to do to you. Distract him/her. Be aggressive, first, then retreat into be the little wheel as they come at you with rage!”
“What did you just ask me to do? No one tells me what to do. I don’t take this hat off for anyone! I’m coming in!” Starfish’s boot came across the threshold.
“Take that – FUCKING HAT OFF!” Shouted V, and she backhanded it off Starfish’s head. When she bent over to pick it up, V saw a golden opportunity and opening. Grabbing the heady oak door, she slammed it with all her might….And it hit her love on her beautiful ass and she went flying ten feet off the stoop, and lay theor spread-eagled – IN FUCKIMG SHOCK!
“And STAY THE FUCK OUT until you can dress like a civilized human being!”
Locking thee door, V ran up the stairs as fast as she could to the safe room the Wizard had built. Throwing the bolts into place, V called her bodyguards. When he did not answer, V knew he was dead, and Starfish killed him. V began to weep. Then, she heard the muffled pounding of footsteps racing up the stairs. V stopped breathing. She was what was in the depth of Starfishes eyes…….Death.
Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45495/the-ballad-of-reading-gaol
To be continued.
I have seen a lot of AI Art on the internet and only a handful of images caught my eye, and were worthy of a study. When I saw this
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tzadik
EXTRA! I just woke up from my nap 12-6-23 at 12:37 and saw this on my phone. I got permission from the gentleman on Facebook who generated the top image on AI – that looks like Starfish and Yulia Rose. I wrote about Noah’s flood this morning, in the last chapter. It’ official. We are in Biblical Holy War with Prophecy!
John Presco
They were made up of Americans, Russians, and Israelis who were bonded by two passages of the Old Testament, and two passages in the New.
Gazans say IDF dropped leaflets with Quran verse about flood carrying away ‘wrongdoers’
Residents of Khan Younis, the largest city in southern Gaza and the latest focus of the Israeli military’s ground offensive, say the army has showered the area with leaflets quoting a verse in the Quran.
The Wolves and Horses of Areon
Samenkomst van de Maas en de Waal. Van 1583 – 1588 werd de stad met een vestinggordel omgeven, de vesting werd ontworpen door Adriaen Antonisz van Alkmaar
foto: Marco van Middelkoop/Aerophoto-Schiphol
A Tale of the House of the Wolfings and All the Kindreds of the Mark is a fantasy novel by William Morris, perhaps the first modern fantasy writer to unite an imaginary world with the element of the supernatural, and thus the precursor of much of present-day fantasy literature.[1] It was first published in hardcover by Reeves and Turner in 1889.[2]
The book influenced J. R. R. Tolkien‘s popular The Lord of the Rings.[citation needed]
This work and its successor, The Roots of the Mountains, were to some degree historical novels, with little or no magic. Morris would go on to develop the new genre established in this work in such later fantasies as Child Christopher and Goldilind the Fair, The Wood Beyond the World, The Well at the World’s End, and The Water of the Wondrous Isles.[3]
Plot[edit]
The House of the Wolfings is a romantically reconstructed portrait of the lives of the Germanic Gothic tribes, written in an archaic style and incorporating a large amount of poetry. Morris combines his own idealistic views with what was actually known at the time of his subjects’ folkways and language. He portrays them as simple and hardworking, galvanized into heroic action to defend their families and liberty by the attacks of imperial Rome.
Morris’s Goths inhabit an area called the Mark on a river in the forest of Mirkwood, divided into the Upper-mark, the Mid-mark and the Nether-mark. They worship their gods Odin and Tyr by sacrificing horses, and rely on seers who foretell the future and serve as psychic news-gatherers.
The men of the Mark choose two War Dukes to lead them against their enemies, one each from the House of the Wolfings and the House of the Laxings. The Wolfing war leader is Thiodolf, a man of mysterious and perhaps divine antecedents, whose ability to lead is threatened by his possession of a magnificent dwarf-made mail-shirt which, unknown to him, is cursed. He is supported by his lover the Wood Sun and their daughter the Hall Sun, who are related to the gods.
Return of the House of Wolfings
Posted on August 4, 2013 by Royal Rosamond Press
The Roesmont/Rosemont family owned Melon Woflswinckle, a watermill. My kindred were named Roelof, Rudolph. Rodolphus, meaning “famous wolf’.
When I asked Christine why she was staring so hard at Rena when they met, she said;
“She reminded me of a vampire, one of those women who play vampires in the movies.”
Rena had played at being a vampire with her boyfriend. She gave me an incredible kiss in order to capture my soul. Was she just playing? Was I playing? We were wild Danish wolves on our mountain. Together, we had overcome the world.
When I called Rean in Nebraska she was out in a field of grass surrounded by a thousand crows that took flight at sunset. She said;
“If you were here right now, I would give you such a kiss.”
“I love you more afar, then near.”
Rena had been thinking of me when I called. She had summoned me from afar. We were now closer then when we were near. Our souls were……one. Wherever she go, there go I. Wherever I go….. mon beauté des bois
go with me. Wolves mate for life. Do not pick our roses.
I am going to render the Rosemont cote of arms that shows a dancing wolf, and the words ‘Duke of the Woods’.
I have immortalized my family. Above are photos of the EE Zunft Rebleuten Guild of Basel whose emblem is a dancing wolf. Fremasonry has its roots in the guilds. Notice the cote of arms behind glass in top photo. William Morris said the sons of the House of Wolfen are best suited to tell the tale of their battle with the slave masters of Rome.
Jon Rosamond Wolferose
“Erhart de Rougemont who bought in 1495 “the house called Rebleuten-Zunft in Basle in the Freistrasse.’
Peter Rosemond had seen in print the letters from Erasmus to Gotschalk Rosemondt. He noticed that a seal used by a Rosemont in Holland, bearing a jumping fox, was like an emblem he had noticed in a wall of the house Rebleuten-Zunft in Basle. This seal
dated back to 1430,
This James (or Jacob, for these names were once interchangeable) was the son of Hans Ulrich
Rosemond, born 1623, a weaver; who was a son of Hans, a weaver, born
1581; who was a son of Fred Rosemond, born 1552, a weaver, member of
town council and a local captain; who was the son of another Hans
whose date of birth is not known, but he too, was a weaver and became
a citizen of Basle in 1534. His father was Erhart de Rougemont who
bought in 1495 “the house called Rebleuten-Zunft in Basle in the
Freistrasse.’ Peter Rosemond further reported information from the
Records Office in Basle that “before Basle the family resided in
Holland up to 1338, and it is said they descended from the estate
Rosemont, near Belfort, in France, where also the village Rougemont
is found.” A family coat-of-arms was registered in Basle about 1537
when the first Hans became a resident there. A reproduction of this
coat-of-arms in the writer’s possession shows a weaver’s crook
conspicuously, and it will be remembered that in Ireland our people
were linen weavers and farmers, and that Edward, the elder, was a
weaver in this country. Peter Rosemond had seen in print the letters
from Erasmus to Gotschalk Rosemondt. He noticed that a seal used by a
Rosemont in Holland, bearing a jumping fox, was like an emblem he had
noticed in a wall of the house Rebleuten-Zunft in Basle. This seal
dated back to 1430, whereas the coat-of-arms above mentioned dates
from 1534, it seems. Peter Rosemond died September 22, 1930. This is
but a sketch of what he wrote.”
The Wolfswinkelse Water Mill was a watermill on the Dommel. The water mill is located in the municipality of Sint-Oedenrode between Banda and Nijnsel. This mill may have ever known as Wallace .
Content
[hide]1 Etymologie
2 History 2.1 Glory Wolfswinkel to 1604
2.2 from 1604 to 1795
2.3 from 1795 to the present
3 nearby water mills
Etymologie[Edit]
In the name Wallace means a corner Shop . The element can be in multiple ways, however, Wolf explained. Many think the first time to the animal name, but it can also save on a field curvature . That seems like a meaningful statement because such terrain form around emphatically pointing to falls (that is, a strikingly high steep Ridge along the Dommel, half a kilometre to the North).
History[Edit]
Glory Wolfswinkel to 1604[Edit]
The mill was about 1200 by Duke Henry I of Brabant donated to the Priory of Postel. Later it became a little glory, consisting of a omgrachte hofstede (the Water Horse), a farm and water mill. This area was by the Ducal couple of Joanna, Duchess of Brabant and Wenceslas I of Luxembourg in 1381 in loan issued to the nobleman Edmund d’Aquis. There would then also a clasp. The oldest known occupant would Agnes van Wolfswinkel, after which her son Cameron has inherited the property of Dijnter, after which the owners were Dijnter and Emont of Geerke. In 1450 was the glory in possession of the family of Rosemont, and then the families Coensborgh and Molenpas. The lock was already gone. In the 15th and 16th centuries are listed followed by the families Huyoel families, Baja, Daly, Valentine and Thielemans.
From 1604 to 1795[Edit]
The mill was In 1604 , separate from the estate, sold as a separate fief to Coenraedt Jan A. In 1628 was the mill property of Jhr. the Jada who in 1650 a oil mill at the original corn mill. About 1720 the mill was in the possession of Lord Lambert, count of Val, and after his death the mill was sold to Johan Carel de Jada, who was Lord of Eckart .
In the French period, at the end of the 18th century, the mill was burned by the English and German troops in order in this way, the English army, that was pulled together on the Nistelrooise Heide, to warn of the approaching French. The remains were then sold to Widow in 1795 Raon van schalkwijk, which the mill 50 metres upstream re-constructed.
From 1795 to the present[Edit]
After the rebuilding has known many mill owners. She was used during the 19th century as the volmolen Geldorp and by the Tilburg textile manufacturers. Although the mill was still in operation in 1878 , touched them soon thereafter in decline. In 1928 , the lock in the Dommel and the water mill was sold to the Dommel water board. The watermill was demolished after 1945 , despite attempts at preservation.
Now rest on this scenic spot only the Mill House. In addition, reminds the Water farm to former glory. Furthermore, reminds a small monument to the water mill, as well as leading the way out there, which still carries the name watermolenstraat . The cycle route along the Peel performs there.
Gijsbert ROESMONT. After dying the ships nobleman hendrik Heym
in 1427 took he are place on the ship chair. He was church master of
Saint Janskerk, member of Lieve-Vrouwe-broederschap and died in 1449
306. Nobleman Arnold the ROOVER Dirkszn., knight, embark 1349 and
1355. he had married with Catharina Berthout said of Berlaer, for the
of Lodewijk, lord of Helmond and Keerbergen, and of Johanna van
Dinther. After dying her he have been still remarried with Maria van
Leyenberg Gerardsdr. The Roover were member of the Lieve-Vrouwe-
broederschap and exchanged it temporary with eternal in 1384 307.
Nobleman Dirck the Roover Janszn., lord of the Nemerlaer.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dinther
Rusty Mont (Rosemont, Roosemont), b. ± 1250, Bron Wissenburg , zoon van “missing link” (de Rougemont) Roesmont (Rosemont) en de familie Roesmont (Roosmont Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /Rosemont) /(informatie) ± 1250, Source Wissenburg , son of “missing link” (de Rougemont) Rusty Mont (Rosemont) and the family Rusty Mont (Rose Montrose) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / Rosemont) / (information )
Chronologisch de meest waarschijnlijke verklaring voor de volgende akte (aannemelijker dan dat Godschalck de vader van de betreffende zonen was): (15-3-1315, regesten ‘s-Hertogenbosch, Godshuizen) Mar cilius de Colonia zoon van wijlen Arnoldus gen. Chronologically, the most likely explanation for the following instrument (likely than Godschalck the father of the sons was on): (15-3-1315, résumés’ s-Hertogenbosch, Hospices) Colonia Mar Cilius the son of the late Arnold gene. van Keulen van Den Bosch (de Colonia de Buscho Ducis) heeft verkocht aan Godescalcus Rosemont twee hoeven lands in Udenhout. Cologne from Den Bosch (the Colonia de Buscho Ducis) has sold to Godescalcus Rosemont two horseshoes land in Udenhout. Deze hoeven waren door hem uitgewonnen van Rodolfus, broeder van Godescalcus wegens schulden. This need had been conquered by him Rodolfus, brother of Godescalcus for debt. Godescalcus heeft vervolgens een van deze hoeven overgedragen aan de procurator van de tafel van de H. Godescalcus subsequently one of these have been transferred to the procurator of the table of the H. Geest van Den Bosch. Spirit of Den Bosch. Een nog t e houden loting zal beslissen, welke van de twee hoeven de tafel krijgt toebedeeld. A draw will still keep decide which of the two having the table gets assigned.
Idem (10-9-1315) Godescalcus gen. Idem (10-9-1315) Godescalcus gene. Rosemont en de procurator van de tafel van de H. Rosemont and the procurator of the table of the H. Geest van Den Bosch hebben onder elkaar twee hoeven in Udenhout verdeeld. Spirit of Den Bosch have divided into Udenhout. Among themselves two Godescalcus ontvangt de hoeve gebruikt door Ghenekinus met diens huis erop gelegen in een broek; dit broek tot aan de waterloop, en 2 bunder uit 4 bunder moer aldaar aan de zijde van Rutsvoirt. Godescalcus receives the farm used by Ghenekinus with his house it situated in a trousers, this pants to the stream, and 2 of 4 bunder bunder nut there by the side of Rutsvoirt. De tafel ontvangt de hoeve gebruikt door Johannes van Winterven; de rest van het broek aan de zijde van Ghiersberghe en 2 bunder uit de 4 bunder moer aan de zijde van erfgoed van Woltherus van Haren. The table receives the farm used by Johannes van Erven Wins and the rest of the pants to the side of Ghiersberghe bunder and 2 from the 4 bunder nut on the side of heritage Woltherus of Haren. Er worden bepalingen gemaakt over een recht van w eg; het gemeenschappelijk onderhoud van een dijk gelegen in het broek; het gemeenschappelijk gebruik van de waterloop en het onderhoud van een brug daarover door Godescalcus en de verdeling van de op deze hoeven rustende cijnzen. There are provisions made for a right of w eg, the common maintenance of a dike located in the pants, the common use of the watercourse and maintenance of a bridge about by Godescalcus and distribution to fulfill this need cijnzen. (bron: http://www.wissenburg.info) (Source: http://www.wissenburg.info)
Gehuwd voor 1275 met: Married before 1275 to:
XX , Bron Wissenburg XX Source Wissenburg
1) Godscalck Roesmont (Rosemont) , Bron Coolen-online (BE) 1) Godscalck Rusty Mont (Rosemont) , Source Coolen-online (BE)
Gehuwd voor 1300 met: Married before 1300 to:
Rudolph Godschalck Rusty Mont (Rosemont), d. ± 1379, Bron Coolen-online (BE) , Bron Wissenburg , zoon van Godscalck Roesmont (Rosemont) en XX met: ± 1379, Source Coolen-online (BE) , Source Wissenburg , son of Rusty Godscalck Mont (Rosemont) and XX with:
Mechteld , Bron Coolen-online (BE) , Bron Wissenburg Mechteld, Source Coolen-online (BE) , Source Wissenburg
1) Godschalck Roelofs Roesmont (Rosemont) , ovl. 1) Godschalck Roelofs Rusty Mont (Rosemont) , d. voor 12 feb 1411, Bron Coolen-online (BE) on Feb 12, 1411, Source Coolen-online (BE)
Diverse malen (ook via kinderen) vermeld in het Bosch Protocol (Stichting Adriaen Snoermanfonds). Several times (also by children) listed in the Bosch Protocol (Foundation Adriaen Snoermanfonds). Ook vermeld in cijnsboeken 1380 en 1340 en stoot- en spechtboek (Kleine Meierij), onder meer als zoon en erfgenaam van Roelof en neef van Luitgaard. Also mentioned levy records in 1380 and 1340 and impact and woodpecker book (Small Meierij), including the son and heir and nephew Roelof van Luit Gaard. (bron: http://www.wissenburg.info) (Source: http://www.wissenburg.info)
Gehuwd ± 1370 met: Married ± 1370 to:
Mechteld Posteel , ovl. Mechteld Posteel, d. tussen 1383 en 1405, Bron Coolen-online (BE) , Bron Wissenburg between 1383 and 1405, Source Coolen-online (BE) , Source Wissenburg
2) Hadewich Rodolphus Roesmont (Rosemont) , Bron Coolen-online (BE) , Bron Wissenburg met: 2) Hadewich Rodolphus Rusty Mont (Rosemont) , Source Coolen-online (BE) , Source Wissenburg with:
Daniel Willems Vander Hautert , ovl. Daniel Willems Vander Hautert, d. voor 1419, Bron Coolen-online (BE) for 1419, Source Coolen-online (BE)
Roelof is a name given to female children and its meaning is ‘famous wolf’. Roelof is a Dutch name of Germanic origin and a variant of the name Rudolph. The name is bestowed on male children.
Swinburne’s choice of the “rose of the world” as one of his first subjects for verse suggests that he associated his conception of Rosamond with courtly love allegory, specifically the Roman de la Rose, in which the rose is the eternal symbol of the beloved and of the perfect beauty that is fearfully transient but simultaneously immortal.3 As in Swinburne’s later lyrics “Before the Mirror” and “The Year of the Rose,” Rosamond’s central symbol is the rose, and, like them, this play recapitulates the major preoccupations of courtly love poetry: the apotheosis of beauty; love as the necessary consequence of beauty fear of mutability; and a final insistence on the immortality of both love and beauty, which can be attained, paradoxically, only through death.
The House of the Wolfings
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The House of the Wolfings
Title page of 1889 First Edition, London
Author(s)
William Morris
Country
United Kingdom
Language
English
Genre(s)
Fantasy novel
Publisher
Reeves and Turner
Publication date
1889
Media type
Print (Hardback)
Pages
199 pp
ISBN
NA
Followed by
The Roots of the Mountains
A Tale of the House of the Wolfings and All the Kindreds of the Mark is a fantasy novel by William Morris, perhaps the first modern fantasy writer to unite an imaginary world with the element of the supernatural, and thus the precursor of much of present-day fantasy literature.[1] It was first published in hardcover by Reeves and Turner in 1889.[2] Its importance in the history of fantasy literature was recognized by its republication by the Newcastle Publishing Company as the sixteenth volume of the celebrated Newcastle Forgotten Fantasy Library in April, 1978.
This book also influenced J. R. R. Tolkien’s popular The Lord of the Rings. In a December 31, 1960 letter published in The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien, (p. 303), Tolkien wrote: ‘The Dead Marshes and the approaches to the Morannon owe something to Northern France after the Battle of the Somme. They owe more to William Morris and his Huns and Romans, as in The House of the Wolfings or The Roots of the Mountains.” Among the numerous parallels with The Lord of the Rings, Morris has Old English-style placenames such as Mirkwood (p. 2), germanic personal names such as Thiodolf (p. 8), and dwarves as skilled smiths (“How the Dwarf-wrought Hauberk was Brought away from the Hall of the Daylings”, p. 97).
This work and its successor, The Roots of the Mountains, were to some degree historical novels, with little or no magic. Morris would go on to develop the new genre established in this work in such later fantasies as Child Christopher and Goldilind the Fair, The Wood Beyond the World, The Well at the World’s End, and The Water of the Wondrous Isles.[3]
Contents
[hide]
1 Plot summary
2 Copyright
3 References
4 External links
Plot summary[edit]
The House of the Wolfings is Morris’ romantically reconstructed portrait of the lives of the Germanic Gothic tribes, written in an archaic style and incorporating a large amount of poetry. It combines his own idealistic views with what was actually known at the time of his subjects’ folkways and language. He portrays them as simple and hardworking, galvanized into heroic action to defend their families and liberty by the attacks of imperial Rome.
Morris’ Goths inhabit an area called the Mark on a river in the forest of Mirkwood, divided according into the Upper-mark, the Mid-mark and the Nether-mark. They worship their gods Odin and Tyr by sacrificing horses and rely on seers who foretell the future and serve as psychic news-gatherers.
The men of the Mark choose two War Dukes to lead them against their enemies, one each from the House of the Wolfings and the House of the Laxings. The Wolfing war leader is Thiodolf, a man of mysterious and perhaps divine antecedents whose ability to lead is threatened by his possession of a magnificent dwarf-made mail-shirt which, unknown to him, is cursed. He is supported by his lover the Wood Sun and their daughter the Hall Sun, who are related to the gods.
Copyright[edit]
The copyright for this story has expired in the United States, and thus now resides in the public domain there. The text is available via Project Gutenberg.
The book is the story of how the Wolfings fight, and eventually destroy, the invading Roman legions. But here Morris faced a problem: while he could try to reconstruct the society of these early people, their history is almost unknown, and what is known is known largely from the Roman side. Rather than attempt to force the story into a known historical context (in which case it would have had to be the story of the destruction of the legions of Varus in AD 9 by Arminius, leader of the Cherusci) Morris preferred to preserve his freedom of invention. His solution was brilliantly simple: the story is one told by the descendants of the Wolfings many years later, and as with the Saga of the Volsungs, events have become garbled with retelling. The people are consistently referred to as Goths, but this seems to have become a generic term, since the Teutones who invaded Italy in 109 BC have also become ‘Goths’, so that the actual identity of the tribe is left vague. The hero, Thiodolf, remembers killing three Hunnish kings in battle, yet the story is clearly set long before the arrival of the Huns in Western Europe, at a time when the Romans were only beginning to
http://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/m/morris/william/m87hw/
Chapter xix. Those Messengers Come to Thiodolf
Of Geirbald and Viglund the tale tells that they rode the woodland paths as speedily as they might. They had not gone far, and were winding through a path amidst of a thicket mingled of the hornbeam and holly, betwixt the openings of which the bracken grew exceeding tall, when Viglund, who was very fine-eared, deemed that he heard a horse coming to meet them: so they lay as close as they might, and drew back their horses behind a great holly-bush lest it should be some one or more of the foes who had fled into the wood when the Romans were scattered in that first fight. But as the sound drew nearer, and it was clearly the footsteps of a great horse, they deemed it would be some messenger from Thiodolf, as indeed it turned out: for as the new-comer fared on, somewhat unwarily, they saw a bright helm after the fashion of the Goths amidst of the trees, and then presently they knew by his attire that he was of the Bearings, and so at last they knew him to be Asbiorn of the said House, a doughty man; so they came forth to meet him and he drew rein when he saw armed men, but presently beholding their faces he knew them and laughed on them, and said:
“Hail fellows! what tidings are toward?”
“These,” said Viglund, “that thou art well met, since now shalt thou turn back and bring us to Thiodolf as speedily as may be.”
But Asbiorn laughed and said: “Nay rather turn about with me; or why are ye so grim of countenance?”
“Our errand is no light one,” said Geirbald, “but thou, why art thou so merry?”
“I have seen the Romans fall,” said he, “and belike shall soon see more of that game: for I am on an errand to Otter from Thiodolf: the War-duke, when he had questioned some of those whom we took on the Day of the Ridge, began to have a deeming that the Romans had beguiled us, and will fall on the Mark by the way of the south-east heaths: so now is he hastening to fetch a compass and follow that road either to overtake them or prevent them; and he biddeth Otter tarry not, but ride hard along the water to meet them if he may, or ever they have set their hands to the dwellings of my House. And belike when I have done mine errand to Otter I shall ride with him to look on these burners and slayers once more; therefore am I merry. Now for your tidings, fellows.”
Said Geirbald: “Our tidings are that both our errands are prevented, and come to nought: for Otter hath not tarried, but hath ridden with all his folk toward the stead of thine House. So shalt thou indeed see these burners and slayers if thou ridest hard; since we have tidings that the Romans will by now be in Mid-mark. And as for our errand, it is to bid Thiodolf do even as he hath done. Hereby may we see how good a pair of War-dukes we have gotten, since each thinketh of the same wisdom. Now take we counsel together as to what we shall do; whether we shall go back to Otter with thee, or thou go back to Thiodolf with us; or else each go the road ordained for us.”
Said Asbiorn: “To Otter will I ride as I was bidden, that I may look on the burning of our roof, and avenge me of the Romans afterwards; and I bid you, fellows, ride with me, since fewer men there are with Otter, and he must be the first to bide the brunt of battle.”
“Nay,” said Geirbald, “as for me ye must even lose a man’s aid; for to Thiodolf was I sent, and to Thiodolf will I go: and bethink thee if this be not best, since Thiodolf hath but a deeming of the ways of the Romans and we wot surely of them. Our coming shall make him the speedier, and the less like to turn back if any alien band shall follow after him. What sayest thou, Viglund?”
Said Viglund: “Even as thou, Geirbald: but for myself I deem I may well turn back with Asbiorn. For I would serve the House in battle as soon as may be; and maybe we shall slaughter these kites of the cities, so that Thiodolf shall have no work to do when he cometh.”
Said Asbiorn; “Geirbald, knowest thou right well the ways through the wood and on the other side thereof, to the place where Thiodolf abideth? for ye see that night is at hand.”
“Nay, not over well,” said Geirbald.
Said Asbiorn: “Then I rede thee take Viglund with thee; for he knoweth them yard by yard, and where they be hard and where they be soft. Moreover it were best indeed that ye meet Thiodolf betimes; for I deem not but that he wendeth leisurely, though always warily, because he deemeth not that Otter will ride before to-morrow morning. Hearken, Viglund! Thiodolf will rest to-night on the other side of the water, nigh to where the hills break off into the sheer cliffs that are called the Kites’ Nest, and the water runneth under them, coming from the east: and before him lieth the easy ground of the eastern heaths where he is minded to wend to-morrow betimes in the morning: and if ye do your best ye shall be there before he is upon the road, and sure it is that your tidings shall hasten him.”
“Thou sayest sooth,” saith Geirbald, “tarry we no longer; here sunder our ways; farewell!”
“Farewell,” said he, “and thou, Viglund, take this word in parting, that belike thou shalt yet see the Romans, and strike a stroke, and maybe be smitten. For indeed they be most mighty warriors.”
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