XXXIX Wulstan, Bishop of Worcester
In that memorable day when Edgar Atheling appeared at the Norman camp at Berkhampstead to make his submission to the conqueror of Hastings, one of the Saxon prelates who accompanied the grandson of Edmund Ironside was Wulstan, Bishop of Worcester.
Wulstan had taken part in the election of Edgar Atheling, and probably felt as anxious as any of his neighbours to maintain the national independence. But after having arrived at the conclusion that the game was up, and sworn allegiance to William the Norman, he continued faithful to his oath; and, in doing so, earned the distinction of being described by a modern historian as “a simple, weak-minded man, who, after a momentary impulse of patriotic enthusiasm, became heartily reconciled with the conquerors.”
It appears that long after the other prelates of Saxon race were somewhat summarily deposed, Wulstan was, in consequence of his fidelity to William, allowed to remain Bishop of Worcester. In that capacity he rendered to the Norman cause services which only a Saxon churchman could have rendered. When the violence shown towards the Saxon clergy raised so much resentment throughout England that in some provinces no Norman bishop durst show his face, Wulstan made pastoral visitations, calmed the popular excitement, and proclaimed the amnesties of the king; and when Roger Fitzosborne, raising the standard of revolt, marched from Hereford, in hopes of crossing the Severn and joining Ralph de Gael, Wulstan not only rallied the natives of Worcester around the royal standard, but marched in person to oppose the rebel earl’s progress.
Wulstan, after these events, doubtless considered his position secure. Indeed, it was quite natural that he should. But he was deficient in that kind of erudition which Lanfranc deemed that a bishop ought to possess—and Lanfranc, being no respecter of persons, reported him as “insufficient for his place for want of learning.”
It was the year 1076; and a great council of barons and bishops was held in the church of Westminster, under the auspices of Lanfranc and under the presidency of William. Before that assembly Wulstan was cited; and by the assembly he was unanimously declared incapable of exercising episcopal functions. When this judgment was pronounced, William ordered Wulstan to take off his pontifical robes, and resign his staff and ring, the ensigns of his ecclesiastical dignity. Wulstan, however, was so amazed and indignant, that, instead of obeying quietly, as was anticipated, he rose, turned towards the Conqueror, and exclaimed, with energy—
“A better man than you, O king! bestowed these robes upon me, and to him I will restore them!”
As Wulstan spoke, the Norman barons and bishops stared in mute surprise, and they were astonished when the venerable man, as if under Divine inspiration, walked to the Confessor’s tomb.
“Thou, holy Edward,” said he, “gavest me this staff, and to thee I return and confide it!”
Suiting the action to the words, Wulstan energetically struck the tombstone with the end of his pastoral staff; and then turning back to the Normans, he said, with calm scorn—
“I received my staff from a better man than any of you! I have returned it to him. Take it from him if you can!”
At this distant period it would be impossible adequately to describe the effect produced on the assembled Normans by this scene. Had all the heroes, saints, and martyrs of that great regal House whose throne the son of Arlette so unworthily occupied come out of their graves, and walked in procession before the council, the bishops and barons could not have been more astonished. The air of Wulstan, his unexpected energy, and the circumstances under which it was displayed, produced a feeling of wonder mingled with superstitious awe. The king did not repeat his demand; but Lanfranc mustered voice to entreat Wulstan to put on his robes and remain in his bishopric.
But the effect produced on the bishops and barons within the church of Westminster was trifling compared with the impression produced throughout the country. According to popular report, something resembling a miracle had been wrought. It must be confessed, indeed, that the story lost nothing in the telling. The rumour ran, that when Wulstan struck the tomb his staff penetrated into the stone as into soft earth, and that no one was able to draw it but the bishop himself. The story spread far and wide, and was told by many an oppressed peasant at the cottage hearth, by many a bold outlaw under the greenwood tree, and by many a sad-hearted Saxon, driven from his country, dressed as a Varing, and guarding the palace of the Emperor of Constantinople.