g was kneeling before the altar, threw himself at the feet of the
royal votary, beseeching pardon in the name of the common Savior of
mankind, who on that day shed his blood for the redemption of the human
race. But his prayers and appeal were in vain: he found no pardon;
Clothair drew his sword, and slew him on the spot. The Pope threatened
the monarch with apostolical vengeance, and Clothair attempted to atone
for the murder, by raising the town and territory of Yvetot into a
kingdom, and granting it in perpetuity to the heirs of Gaultier.

Such is the tradition. There is a very able dissertation upon the
subject, by the Abbe de Vertot[46], who endeavors to disprove the whole
story: first by the silence of all contemporary authors; then by the
fact, that Yvetot was not at that time under the dominion of Clothair;
then by an anachronism, which the story involves as to Pope Agapetus;
and finally by sundry other arguments of minor importance. Even he,
however, admits, that in a royal decree, dated 1392, and preserved among
the records of the Exchequer of Normandy, the title of _King_ is given
to the Lord of Yvetot; and he is obliged to cut the knot, which he is
unable to untie, by stating it as his opinion, that at or about this
period Yvetot was really raised into a sovereignty, though, on what
occasion, for what purpose, and with what privileges, no document
remains to prove. As a parallel case, he instances the Peers of France,
an order with whose existence every body is acquainted, while of the
date of the establishment nothing is known. It is surprising, that so
clear-sighted a writer did not perceive that he was doing nothing more
than illustrating, as the logicians say, _obscurum per obscurius_, or,
rather, making darkness more dark; as if it were not considerably more
probable, that so strange a circumstance should have taken place in the
sixth century, and have been left unrecorded, when society was unformed,
anomalies frequent, and historians few, than that it should have
happened in the fourteenth, a period when the government of France was
completely settled in a regular form, under one monarch, when literature
was generally diffused, and when every remarkable event was chronicled.
Besides which, the inhabitants of the little kingdom continued, in some
measure, independent of his Most Christian Majesty, even until the
revolution. At least, they paid not a sou of taxes, neither _aides_, nor
_tenth-penny_, nor _