fit for burning like a pretty little clock. His
ass is sent to thirty thousand cart-loads of
devils.") "Au moins s'il perd le corps et
la vie; qu'il ne damne son asne." ("At
least, though he lose both body and life, let
him not damn his ass.") On these grounds the
doctors of the Sorbonne formally denounced
Rabelais to Francis the First, and requested
permission to prosecute the author. In all
matters of heresy Francis was as severe as an
inquisitor-general; but, in this instance, he
resolved to judge for himself before he handed
over his favourite writer to the tender mercies
of the Dominicans. He had not then read the
offending chapters, and caused the book to
be placed in the hands of the most learned
and accurate reader in the kingdom, himself
carefully listening the while, to detect the
heretical passages. He failed to discover
them, and no proceedings consequently were
taken against Rabelais, who, in the epistle at
the head of the fourth book, dedicated to the
Cardinal de Châtillon, ridicules his principal
accuser, whom he calls a serpent- eater
(mangeur de serpens) for founding a charge
of mortal heresy on the insertion of an N
instead of an M, through the fault and
negligence of the printers. There is,
however, very good reason for supposing that the
misprint was intentional. If so, poor Etienne
Dolet, who could print so well, suffered for
it shortly afterwards, when, at the stake, he
expiated less doubtful heretical opinions.
Foiled in their endeavours, the enemies of
Rabelais, at a later period, shifted their
ground, and unable to convict him according
to the letter of his writings, attacked their
spirit, accusing him of double meaning.
However open to the charge, Rabelais defended
himself in a very grave and pious tone, and
succeeded in persuading Henry the Third, to
whom the accusation was addressed, to take
off the interdict, which for a long time
prevented the continuation of the Pantagruel.

Erasmus was a sufferer also, both on
account of misprints and misinterpreted
meanings. The Faculty of Theology of Paris
censured him for an unlucky mistake made
by his printer in the paraphrase of the
sixteenth chapter of St. Matthew, where " amore
singulari" appeared instead of "more singulari;"
and he was accused of confining theology
to Germany, because they chose to read
in that sense a passage in his Enchiridion, in
which he praised the "Germanam apostolorum
theologiam," or genuine (not German)
apostolic theology. It was scarcely less a
crime in their eyes that he should, in the
Lord's Prayer, have substituted "peccata"
for "debita."

"Besides the ordinary errata," says Disraeli
the elder, "which happen in printing a work,
others have been purposely committed, in
order that the errata may contain what is
not permitted to appear in the body of the
work. Wherever the Inquisition had power,
particularly at Rome, it was not allowed to
employ the word fatum or fata in any work.
An author desirous of using the latter word,
adroitly invented this scheme: he had printed
in his book facta, and in the errata he put
'for facta, read fata.' " A more amusing
instance of misprinting by design is told of
Scarron, though in which edition of his works
I am unable to say, as it is not to be found in
that published at Amsterdam in seventeen
hundred and twelve, or in the Paris edition
of seventeen hundred and nineteen; but it is
too likely not to be true. He had composed
a poetical epistle, which, as the subject fully
admitted of it, he dedicated to Guillemette,
the female dog of his sister ("A Guillemette,
chienne de ma soeur"); but having quarrelled
with his relation, he maliciously put into the
errata, "au lieu de 'chienne de ma soeur'
('female dog of my sister'), lisez 'ma chienne de
soeur' ('my female dog of a sister')." A more
recent intentional misprint occurred in
Belgium, two or three years before the events of
eighteen hundred and thirty. Amongst those
who mainly prepared the way for the revolution
which was to expel the House of Orange,
were a number of young litterati, who, the
better to carry out the object they had in
view, purchased the Courrier des Pays Bas,
—at that time a very influential newspaper.
They did not make any immediate change in
the personnel of the editorship, but retained
the editor, who was a Frenchman, and a
Jesuit into the bargain. In a short time,
however, they found that the articles which
he wrote militated against their policy; and
they limited his contributions to the feuilleton.
The ex-editor accordingly became
desirous of informing his friends at a distance
of the change that had taken place; and he
made the newspaper itself the medium of
communication,— not directly, but after this
fashion. The motto of the Courrier des Pays
Bas was, "Est modus in rebus," from the
well-known line in Horace; and the Jesuit,
to make it apparent that there was a hitch
somewhere, substituted "nodus" (a knot), for
"modus" (a manner); and for three weeks
the paper was published daily before the
misprint was discovered.

No one in England feels disposed to advocate
the censorship of the press; but if one
of its functions, as the duty is performed in
Spain, were exercised here, it might not be
amiss. A few errors which have occasionally
startled the town would not then have been
committed. In Spain, says Chevillier, there
has long been established a police for the
correction of the press, by means of which it
is attempted to oblige printers to be vigilant
and make fewer mistakes. Before permitting
the sale of a book, it is examined by the
censor, who compares the printed copy with
the manuscript, and marks all the misprints.
The errata which he has made is then
prefixed to the first sheet, and the censor's
signature is attached to a statement, which
declares that, except the mistakes indicated,