For seven years after this attack, the English kept their ground in Paris. But the English power in France was now daily crumbling into dust. The Burgundian, their ally for several years, was become their active enemy; the duke of Bedford, whose valour and skill so long upheld a tottering cause, had sunk into the grave; town after town, willingly or on compulsion, opened its gates to Charles; succours arrived seldom and in scanty numbers; and frequent insurrections, in Normandy and other quarters, compelled them to disseminate their troops, so that it became impossible for them to take the field with a formidable army. At this critical moment, Paris had only a feeble garrison of fifteen hundred men; a force wholly inadequate to defend the place, even had the citizens been far less disaffected than they really were. They were weary of war, and, besides, prudence dissuaded them from persisting to oppose a sovereign whose throne was evidently established on a solid basis. Such being the state of things, Charles thought the time was come to recover his capital. A negotiation was secretly opened with the citizens; and, on condition of a general amnesty, they agreed to return to their allegiance. On the night of the 13th of April, 1436, the king’s troops were admitted into the city. Though he was taken by surprise, Willoughby, the governor, a brave and intelligent officer, took such measures as would have baffled his assailants, had he received any aid from the Parisians. But not a hand was raised in his behalf, and he had no other resource than a retreat to the Bastile, which he effected in good order. An honourable capitulation, allowing him to retire with bag and baggage, to Rouen, was offered to Willoughby, and, as he knew that resistance must be unavailing, he wisely accepted an offer which he could not hope would be repeated. Thus ended the sway of the English in Paris. During the remainder of the reign of Charles VII., nothing more occurred which belongs to this narrative. Abundant materials, are, however, supplied by the iron sway of his son and successor, Louis XI. Historians, in speaking of Louis XI., have charactered him, and with justice, as a violator of all social duties, as being a “bad son, a bad husband, a bad father, a bad brother, a bad kinsman, a bad friend, a bad neighbour, a bad master, and a most dangerous enemy.” That, on attaining supreme power, such a man should take heavy vengeance for injuries, real or supposed, is in the natural order of things. Immediately on his accession to the throne, Louis displaced from their offices all persons who had rendered themselves obnoxious to him; and, in some instances, his revenge was more signally manifested.