motive of this confiscation. Being certain there was nothing contraband
among my baggage, I could not conceive on what pretext it could have been
seized on; at length, however, I learned the rights of the story, which
(as it is a very curious one) must not be omitted.

I became acquainted at Chambery with a very worthy old man, from Lyons,
named Monsieur Duvivier, who had been employed at the Visa, under the
regency, and for want of other business, now assisted at the Survey. He
had lived in the polite world, possessed talents, was good-humored, and
understood music. As we both wrote in the same chamber, we preferred
each other's acquaintance to that of the unlicked cubs that surrounded
us. He had some correspondents at Paris, who furnished him with those
little nothings, those daily novelties, which circulate one knows not
why, and die one cares not when, without any one thinking of them longer
than they are heard. As I sometimes took him to dine with Madam de
Warrens, he in some measure treated me with respect, and (wishing to
render himself agreeable) endeavored to make me fond of these trifles,
for which I naturally had such a distaste, that I never in my life read
any of them. Unhappily one of these cursed papers happened to be in the
waistcoat pocket of a new suit, which I had only worn two or three times
to prevent its being seized by the commissioners of the customs. This
paper contained an insipid Jansenist parody on that beautiful scene in
Racine's Mithridates: I had not read ten lines of it, but by
forgetfulness left it in my pocket, and this caused all my necessaries to
be confiscated. The commissioners at the head of the inventory of my
portmanteau, set a most pompous verbal process, in which it was taken for
granted that this most terrible writing came from Geneva for the sole
purpose of being printed and distributed in France, and then ran into
holy invectives against the enemies of God and the Church, and praised
the pious vigilance of those who had prevented the execution of these