themselves and keep the young king in helpless ignorance, while they undid all that Sully had effected, and took bribes shamelessly.  The Prince of Conde tried to overthrow them, and, in hopes of strengthening herself, in 1614 Mary summoned together the States-General.  There came 464 members, 132 for the nobles, 140 for the clergy, and 192 for the third estate, i.e. the burghers, and these, being mostly lawyers and magistrates from the provinces, were resolved to make their voices heard.  Taxation was growing worse and worse.  Not only was it confined to the burgher and peasant class, exempting the clergy and the nobles, among which last were included their families to the remotest generation, but it had become the court custom to multiply offices, in order to pension the nobles, and keep them quiet; and this, together with the expenses of the army, made the weight of taxation ruinous.  Moreover, the presentation to the civil offices held by lawyers was made hereditary in their families, on payment of a sum down, and of fees at the death of each holder.  All these abuses were complained of; and one of the deputies even told the nobility that if they did not learn to treat the despised classes below them as younger brothers, they would lay up a terrible store of retribution for themselves.  A petition to the king was drawn up, and was received, but never answered.  The doors of the house of assembly were closed—­the members were told it was by order of the king—­and the States-General never met again for 177 years, when the storm was just ready to fall.

13.  The Siege of Rochelle.—­The rottenness of the State was chiefly owing to the nobility, who, as long as they were allowed to grind down their peasants and shine at court, had no sense of duty or public spirit, and hated the burghers and lawyers far too much to make common cause with them against the constantly increasing power of the throne.  They only intrigued and struggled for personal advantages and rivalries, and never thought of the good of the State.  They bitterly hated Concini, the Marshal d’Ancre, as he had been created, but he remained in power till 1614, when one of the king’s gentlemen, Albert de Luynes, plotted with the king himself and a few of his guards for his deliverance.  Nothing could be easier than the execution.  The king ordered the captain of the guards to arrest Concini, and kill him if he resisted; and this was done.  Concini was cut down on the steps of the Louvre, and Louis exclaimed, “At last I am a king.”  But it was not in him to be a king, and he never was one all his life.  He only passed under the dominion of De Luynes, who was a high-spirited young noble.  The Huguenots had been holding assemblies, which were considered more political than religious, and their towns of security were a grievance to royalty.  War broke out again, and Louis himself went with De Luynes to besiege Montauban.  The place was taken, but disease broke out in the army, and De Luynes died.