Identifier: romanceofmonacoi00mayn_0 (find matches)
Title: The romance of Monaco and its rulers
Year: 1910 (1910s)
Authors: Mayne, Ethel Colburn, -1941
Subjects:
Publisher: New York, John Lane company
Contributing Library: University Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
Digitizing Sponsor: University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

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,half-buried beneath the heavy laurels of his kinsfolk,a Grimaldi who was neither a soldier, nor a sailor,nor both. And better even than what he was not,is what he was—for he was a troubadour ; andbetter still, a romantical-tragical troubadour. Hisbiography figures in many Provencal chronicles.Jean de Nostredame, who gives it in. detail, beginsby telling us that Luke Grimaud was a nativeof Grimaud in Provence, and was (so they said) ofa fine wit, and a good Provencal poet. But any-one who wishes to know more, who wishes, forinstance, to be informed as to his knowledge andteaching, of what loyalty and modesty he was,and in what repute he lived, let him read withoutmore ado the beautiful and elegant verses of LeMonge des lies dOr . . . and let him pay noattention to what Le Monge de Montmajour—the Scourge of Poets—says in his foolish andslanderous ballad. < . . This is decidedly a very different Grimaldi, for Lukes story is that ofthe devout lover. He adored a demoiselle of the
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p. 70) RAINIER GRIMALDI. The Exacting Lady and her Troubadour 71 House of Villeneuve, beautiful and elegant, andshe, (plainly an exacting lady), not content with hisunstinted devotion, gave him to drink a love-potion(le breuvage amatoire) c< si quen peu de iours luy-mesme se priva de vie de ses propres niains, eage detrente-cinq ans, que fut en Pan 1308, dont elle encuida recevoir la mort des reproches quon luy faisaitd* avoir faict cruellement mourir un si savant et fameuxpoeteT I have read in an old paper of some kind,adds Nostredame, that this Luke came fromGenoa. Soprani, in the Scrittore della Liguria,observes crushingly that his works have servedas nourishment to the voracity of Time ; but hiscontemporary fame was glittering, and one almostfancies that he may have rejoiced to die as he diddie, so triumphantly did it fit his part. To drinka love-potion, run mad, and kill himself at theage of thirty-five—could any troubadour ask formore! I find, immortalised in the T)ecameron

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