The Englishman who travels in Normandy, meets, at every step, with reminiscences of his kings, his ancestors, his institutions, and his customs.  Churches yet standing, after the lapse of seven centuries; majestic ruins; tombs—­even to the very sound of the clock—­all unite in affecting, here, the heart of a British subject:  every thing seems to tell him that, in former times, HERE was his country; here the residence of his sovereigns; and here the cradle of his manners.  This was more than sufficient to enflame the lively imagination of Mr. D. and to decide him to visit, in person, a country already explored by a great number of his countrymen; but he conceived that his narrative should embody other topics than those which ordinarily appeared in the text of his predecessors.

“His work then is not only a description of castles, towns, churches, public monuments of every kind:—­it is not only a representation of the general aspect of the country, as to its picturesque appearances—­but it is an extended, minute, though occasionally inexact, account of public and private libraries; with reflections upon certain customs of the country, and upon the character of those who inhabit it.  It is in short the personal history of the author, throughout the whole length of his journey.  Not the smallest incident, however indifferent, but what has a place in the letters of the Bibliographer.  Thus, he mentions every Inn where he stops:  recommends or scolds the landlord—­according to his civility or exaction.  Has the author passed a bad night? the reader is sure to know it on the following morning.  On the other hand, has he had a good night’s rest in a comfortable bed? [dans un lit comfortable?] We are as sure to know this also, as soon as he awakes:—­and thus far we are relieved from anxiety about the health of the traveller.  Cold and heat—­fine weather and bad weather—­every variation of atmosphere is scrupulously recorded.

What immediately follows, is unworthy of M. Licquet; because it not only implies a charge of a heinous description—­accusing me of an insidious intrusion into domestic circles, a violation of confidence, and a systematic derision of persons and things—­but because the French translator, exercising that sense and shrewdness which usually distinguish him, MUST have known that such a charge could not have been founded in FACT.  He must have known that any gentleman, leaving England with those letters which brought me in contact with some of the first circles on the Continent, MUST have left it without leaving his character behind him; and that such a character could not, in the natural order of things—­seen even through the sensitive medium of a French critic—­have been guilty of the grossness and improprieties imputed to me by M. Licquet.  I treat therefore this “damnation in wholesale” with scorn and contempt:  and hasten to impress the reader with a more favourable opinion of my Norman translator.  He will have it that