ained any questionable
statement. "We remember to have cited you elsewhere," a common legal
phrase, would damn a document if he did not remember, literally and
personally, to have done so. His influence, too, can be discerned in the
candid Adam, whose honest tale often furnishes us with an antidote to
his impossible surmises. But veracity, unfortunately, is not highly
infectious, and it is a little difficult not to believe that the high
and serene virtues of the great man gone were promptly exploited for the
small men left. One miracle there seems no reason to doubt. John, in an
almost maudlin fit of emotional repentance, made peace at the funeral
with his Cistercian enemies and founded them a home at Beaulieu in the
New Forest. Indeed, these were the true miracles which recommended Hugh
to the English people, so that they regarded him as a saint indeed, and
clamoured for him to be called one formally--the miracles wrought upon
character, the callous made charitable, liars truthful, and the lechers
chaste; the miracles of justice, of weak right made strong against proud
might, and poor honesty made proof against rich rascality; the miracle
of England made the sweeter and the handsomer for this humble and
heavenly stranger.

The later history need not detain us long. His body was moved, says
Thomas Wykes in the _Annales Monastici_, in the year 1219. Perhaps--and
this is a mere guess--the place where his body lay was injured at the
time of the battle and capture of Lincoln two years before; and for
better protection the coffin was simply placed unopened in that curious
position two-thirds into the wall of the apse foundation, where it was
found in our day. In 1220 he was canonized by Pope Honorius III., who
was then at Viterbo organising a crusade, after a report vouching for
the miracles drawn up by the great Archbishop Stephen Langton and John
of Fountains, a just and learned man, afterwards Treasurer of England.

Sixty years later, that is to say, in 1280, John Peckham, the pious
friar archbishop, Oliver Sutton, the cloister-building Bishop of
Lincoln, and others, among them King Edward I. and his good wife
Eleanor, opened the tomb and lifted out the body into a shrine adorned
with gold and jewels and placed it upon a marble pedestal in the Angel
Choir, either where the modern tomb of Queen Eleanor now stands or just
opposite. The head came away and sweated wonder-working oils, and was
casketted and placed at the end