s father was a good-natured, weak-minded man, who on the
death of his first wife married a second, who, as one hen will peck at
another's chicks, would not, as a stepmother, leave the little Paul in
peace. She was continually putting her own children forward, and
ill-treating the late 'anointed' son. The father gave in too readily,
and young Paul was glad enough to be set free from his unhappy home.
There may be some excuse in this for the licentious living to which he
now gave himself up. He was heir to a decent fortune, and of course
thought himself justified in spending it before-hand. Then, in spite of
his quaint little figure, he had something attractive about him, for his
merry face was good-looking, if not positively handsome. If we add to
this, spirits as buoyant as an Irishman's--a mind that not only saw the
ridiculous wherever it existed, but could turn the most solemn and awful
themes to laughter, a vast deal of good-nature, and not a little
assurance--we can understand that the young Scarron was a favourite with
both men and women, and among the reckless pleasure-seekers of the day
soon became one of the wildest. In short, he was a fast young Parisian,
with as little care for morality or religion as any youth who saunters
on the Boulevards of the French capital to this day.

But his stepmother was not content with getting rid of young Paul, but
had her eye also on his fortune, and therefore easily persuaded her
husband that the service of the church was precisely the career for
which the young reprobate was fitted. There was an uncle who was Bishop
of Grenoble, and a canonry could easily be got for him. The fast youth
was compelled to give in to this arrangement, but declined to take full
orders; so that while drawing the revenue of his stall, he had nothing
to do with the duties of his calling. Then, too, it was rather a
fashionable thing to be an abbe, especially a gay one. The position
placed you on a level with people of all ranks. Half the court was
composed of love-making ecclesiastics, and the _soutane_ was a kind of
diploma for wit and wickedness. Viewed in this light, the church was as
jovial a profession as the army, and the young Scarron went to the full
extent of the letter allowed to the black gown. It was only such stupid
superstitious louts as those of Mans, who did not know anything of the
ways of Paris life, who could object to such little freaks as he loved
to indulge in.

The merry little