From the separation of the _Notables_ to the present moment, has been perhaps the most interesting interval ever known in this country. The propositions of the government, approved by the _Notables_, were precious to the nation, and have been in an honest course of execution, some of them being carried into effect, and others preparing. Above all, the establishment of the Provincial Assemblies, some of which have begun their sessions, bid fair to be the instrument for circumscribing the power of the crown, and raising the people into consideration. The election given to them, is what will do this. Though the minister, who proposed these improvements, seems to have meant them as the price of the new supplies, the game has been so played, as to secure the improvements to the nation, without securing the price. The _Notables_ spoke softly on the subject of the additional supplies. But the parliament took them up roundly, refused to register the edicts for the new taxes, till compelled in a bed of justice, and suffered themselves to be transferred to Troyes, rather than withdraw their opposition. It is urged principally against the King, that his revenue is one hundred and thirty millions more than that of his predecessor was, and yet he demands one hundred and twenty millions further. You will see this well explained in the ‘_Conference entre un Ministre d’etat et un Conseiller au parliament,_’ which I send you with some small pamphlets. In the mean time, all tongues in Paris (and in France as it is said) have been let loose, and never was a license of speaking against the government, exercised in London more freely or more universally. Caricatures, placards, _bons-mots_, have been indulged in by all ranks of people, and I know of no well attested instance of a single punishment. For some time, mobs of ten, twenty, and thirty thousand people collected daily, surrounded the Parliament house, huzzaed the members, even entered the doors and examined into their conduct, took the horses out of the carriages of those who did well, and drew them home. The government thought it prudent to prevent these, drew some regiments into the neighborhood, multiplied the guards, had the streets constantly patrolled by strong parties, suspended privileged places, forbade all clubs, &c. The mobs have ceased: perhaps this may be partly owing to the absence of Parliament. The Count d’Artois, sent to hold a bed of justice in the _Cour des Aides_, was hissed and hooted without reserve, by the populace; the carriage of Madame de (I forget the name), in the Queen’s livery, was stopped by the populace, under a belief that it was Madame de Polignac, whom they would have insulted; the Queen, going to the theatre at Versailles with Madame de Polignac, was received with a general hiss. The King, long in the habit of drowning his cares in wine, plunges deeper and deeper. The Queen cries, but sins on. The Count d’Artois is detested, and Monsieur, the general favorite.