Scarron was nothing more than a merry buffoon. Many another man has
gained a name for his mirth, but most of them have been at least
independent. Scarron seems to have cared for nothing that was honourable
or dignified. He laughed at everything but money, and at that he smiled,
though it is only fair to say that he was never avaricious, but only
cared for ease and a little luxury.
When Richelieu died, and the gentler, but more subtle Mazarin mounted
his throne, Madame de Hautefort made another attempt to present her
_protege_ to the queen, and this time succeeded. Anne of Austria had
heard of the quaint little man who could laugh over a lawsuit in which
his whole fortune was staked, and received him graciously. He begged for
some place to support him. What could he do? What was he fit for?
'Nothing, your majesty, but the important office of The Queen's Patient;
for that I am fully qualified.' Anne smiled, and Scarron from that time
styled himself 'par la grace de Dieu, le malade de la Reine.' But there
was no stipend attached to this novel office. Mazarin procured him a
pension of 500 crowns. He was then publishing his 'Typhon, or the
Gigantomachy,' and dedicated it to the cardinal, with an adulatory
sonnet.
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