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Another story runs that a Swiss naturalist often crossed the frontier at Pontarlier, where he was greatly annoyed by a cross and over-zealous French custom-house officer. The latter, for some inscrutable reason, had conceived an intense dislike to the Swiss savant, whose luggage he always examined with exaggerated care, although the naturalist was well known as a man of unimpeachable integrity.
Exasperated by this rude treatment, the naturalist finally determined to give this disagreeable official a lesson which he would not be likely to forget in a hurry. The next time he stopped at Pontarlier, therefore, besides his usual baggage, he had a tightly closed box, which he handled with special care.
In answer to the customary question, he truthfully swore he had no dutiable goods with him, but the custom-house officer, who had singled him out as his victim, gruffly demanded his keys and proceeded to turn his trunk topsy turvy as usual. To his evident chagrin, not the tiniest object upon which he could exact payment was forthcoming, but leaving the owner to rearrange his tumbled garments as best he might, the officer took up the box, shook it hard, and asked what it contained.
“Natural history specimens,” quietly answered the naturalist.
This reply elicited a contemptuous snort from the officer, who declared such a statement must be verified. The naturalist then protested vehemently, swore it contained nothing contraband, and finally seeing that he could not prevent the opening of the box, angrily cried,—
“Very well! Open the box if you choose, but don’t blame me for the consequences!” and marched out of the office where the discussion had taken place, slamming the door behind him with marked emphasis.
Left alone, the officer, armed with chisel and hammer, proceeded to tear off the cover of the box, out of which squirmed and tumbled a number of small snakes.
With a wild cry of terror, the custom-house officer rushed out of the office, crying, “Snakes, snakes!” but as he was often tipsy, or “lost his way in his master’s vineyard,”—as the local saying goes,—his companions would not believe him, and fancied he was the victim of a delusion natural to a man of his intemperate habits.
But one of his comrades venturing boldly into the office to convince him of his mistake, came out again precipitately, crying that snakes were really crawling all over the floor! The naturalist now stepped forward, calmly offered to replace the reptiles—which were perfectly harmless—in their box, and added that he had warned the officer not to tamper with natural history specimens.