THE Count of St. Pol had now secretly promised to unite himself with Louis and the Duke of Burgundy, against England. This weak count was easily made a tool by the artful Louis; though he gave little apprehension to the English, who knew / that at any time they were able, by sending over a small force, to crush the power of this weak ally of the French monarch, whose restless ambition was only laying plans the more and more to enslave the wretched Duke of Burgundy; to wrest even the shadow of dominion from him, and render him and his state dependent on the crown of France.

The treacherous conduct of Louis XI. exemplified itself on every occasion; want of honour, and the breach of every treaty, formed the basis of his character; and yet he called himself Louis, by the grace of God! though he forbade Francis, Duke of Bretagne, to style himself Francis, by the grace of God, Duke of Bretagne.

But this shameful, and more shamefully / broken, treaty with the Duke of Burgundy was most artful and atrocious; it was planned to ruin England, but, finding that plot failed, he diabolically made the duke the miserable sufferer, as if it was necessary he should have some victim for his insatiate cruelty.

All his acquisitions of power, however, could not prevent the pangs of a gnawing conscience; suspicion, terror, and distrust, were his constant attendants; he well knew his subjects detested him, and that fear alone made them subservient under the galling yoke he put upon them. Loaded with murders and treacherous villanies, he trembled with the daily horror of assassination, and he fancied every instant that some one was coming to wrest his sceptre from him.