(A.D. 1095.)
[Anglican and German and Roman Martyrologies. Authorities: his life
by Florence of Worcester (D. 1118),[82] and William of Malmesbury,
written 47 years after the death of S. Wulstan; another in Roger of
Wendover, and numerous notices in other old English historians. He
is called variously Wulstan and Wulfstan.]
S. Wulstan was born in Warwickshire of pious parents. His father's name
was Ealstan, and his mother's Wulfgeova. Both his parents were so
devoted to the religious life, that, by mutual consent, they retired
into monastic houses. Inspired by such examples, but chiefly by his
mother's persuasion, Wulfstan quitted the world whilst yet young, and
took the monastic habit in the same monastery in Worcester where his
father had devoted himself to the service of God. He was there ordained
deacon, and then priest, by the bishop. Observing a very strict course
of life, he soon became remarkable for his vigils, fasting and prayers.
In consequence of his discipline of himself, he was first appointed
master of the novices, and afterwards, on account of his acquaintance
with the ecclesiastical services, precentor and treasurer of the church.
Being now intrusted with the custody of the church, he embraced the
opportunities it afforded him for being almost perpetually in the sacred
edifice, spending whole nights before the altar in prayer; and when he
was exhausted with fatigue, he lay on one of the church benches, and
placed his prayer-book beneath his head as a pillow.
After some time, on the death of the prior, Bishop Aldred appointed
Wulstan to succeed him. As prior, he preached every Lord's Day to the
people, with so great unction, that they were moved to tears. One of the
monks grumbled, and said that Wulfstan forgot his place,--it was the
office of the bishop to preach, and that of the monk to hold his tongue.
Hearing this, Wulfstan said, "My brother, the Word of God is not bound."
Although very abstemious and moderate in his diet, he had not refrained
from meat, till one day that roast goose was being prepared for dinner,
the fragrance filled the church, and Wulstan, who was at the altar
celebrating mass, was so distracted with the delicious odour, for he was
very hungry, as it was the late choral mass, that he could not collect
his thoughts. Then, filled with shame, before he left the altar he vowed
never to touch meat again, and he kept this vow to his dying day.
On the elevation of Aldred, Bishop of Worcester, to the archbishopric of
York, by unanimous consent of the clergy and laity in the election of a
successor, Wulstan was chosen; the king having granted them permission
to elect whom they pleased.
It chanced that the legates from the Pope were present at the election,
but neither they nor the clergy and people could persuade Wulstan to
accept the charge, of which he declared himself to be unworthy. At last,
being sharply reproved for his obstinate willfulness by Wulfsi, a
hermit, and being strongly urged by S. Edward the Confessor, then king,
he yielded, and was consecrated on the Feast of the Nativity of the
Blessed Virgin Mary, 1062.
As bishop, Wulstan maintained the same severity towards himself; every
day he sang the late high mass; it being usual for the priests to take
the choral mass by weeks, in turns, it being very trying, as the
celebrant had to remain fasting till a late hour. Wulstan not only sang
the high mass daily, but also all the canonical hours, and when he rode
on journeys, he had his book open before him on the pommel of his
saddle, and he chanted aloud the psalms of David.
As the old church and monastic buildings reared by S. Oswald were being
demolished, to make way for more splendid edifices, Wulstan stood one
day, and looked at the roofless church, and the walls that were being
torn down, and his eyes filled with tears. "Why should you weep," said a
monk, standing by; "you should rather laugh, to see the meanness of the
first house swept away, to make room for a glorious second one." "No,"
answered Wulstan, "I see nothing to rejoice over in the demolition of
the work of our Saints. True, they knew not how to rear a stately
building; but under a mean roof, they offered the adorable sacrifice to
God with great devotion, and set saintly examples to their flock; and
we--we collect and carve the stones of the material temple, and neglect
the edification of that which is spiritual--the souls of men."
Below him in church sat a curly-headed choir boy. One day the bishop
bent down, and laying his hand on the glossy curls, said, "All these
will fall off one day!" Then the boy in alarm, turned round and said,
"Oh, save my curls for me!" "My child, do not fear, as long as I live
you shall retain your abundant hair." And so he did, for many long
years, till Wulstan died, and then, says the chronicler who records this
strange little incident, his hair came off as the bishop had
foretold.[83]
When William the Conqueror established himself in England, he not only
gave the lands to his Norman nobles, but also the bishoprics to his
Norman clergy. "Wulstan is a fool, he cannot speak French!" said
William, and he ordered Lanfranc, his Norman Archbishop of Canterbury,
to depose the plain Saxon Bishop of Worcester, on the charge of
ignorance. A conclave was held in Westminster Abbey in 1074, to decide a
dispute between Robert, Archbishop of York, and Lanfranc, Archbishop of
Canterbury, as to the question whether the diocese of Worcester belonged
to the northern or the southern province, and at the same time to
deprive Wulstan. When called in question as to his slender attainments
in learning, he rose and said, "We have not sung Sext yet. Let us chant
the office first, and I will answer afterwards."
But those around him remonstrated, saying, "Let us do our business
first, and we can sing the service afterwards; we shall become objects
of ridicule to the king and nobles, if we keep them waiting till we have
done our office."
"No!" exclaimed Wulstan; "the duty to God must be done first, and then
we will consider the petty disputes of men." Having sung the service, he
directly proceeded to the council chamber. To his dependants, who were
desirous of withholding him, and who could not be persuaded that their
cause was not in danger, he said, "Know for certain, that I here see the
holy archbishops, Dunstan of Canterbury and Oswald of York, defending me
this day by their prayers, and they will darken the understandings of my
gainsayers." Then he gave his benediction to a monk who could speak
Norman French, but imperfectly at best, and ordered him to state his
case for him.[84]
There stood the grave long-bearded Saxon bishop arraigned for ignorance
before the Norman king, and his smooth-shaven[85] Norman prelates.
Wulstan, the representative of the people, Lanfranc of the nobles;
Wulstan, the bishop of the conquered, and Lanfranc of the conquerors.
When the poor Saxon peasants had come to him at Worcester, and had
complained that these Norman invaders trampled down their corn, and
robbed them of their cattle, and ground them down with taxes; "They are
God's scourge, these Normans, punishing us for our sins, my children,"
said Wulstan. And now he was to be deprived of his office by these
invaders, that a Norman might occupy his stool, and shepherd with his
crook the Saxon bondsmen. The council decided, in accordance with the
royal pleasure, that Wulstan was too ignorant to deserve to retain his
see, and that therefore he must resign his pastoral staff and ring. The
ring, the token that he was wedded to his diocese before God, that he
said he would never resign, in life or in death. "I received this ring
without coveting it, and I will bear it with me to my grave."[86] But
the staff, the token of jurisdiction, that he could be deprived of, so
rising from his place, with unruffled composure, and placid countenance,
holding his staff, he said, "Truly, my Lord Archbishop, truly I know
that I am unworthy of this honour, nor fit to bear this burden, nor
sufficient to endure the labour. I knew this when the clergy elected me,
and when the bishops urged me, and when my own master, King Edward,
invited me. He, with the authority of the apostolic see, laid this
burden on my shoulders, and ordered me to be invested with the
episcopate, by the token of this staff. Now thou desirest of me this
pastoral staff, which thou gavest me not; thou demandest of me the
surrender of the office thou laidest not on me. I, indeed, am well aware
of my ignorance, and yielding to the sentence of this holy conclave, I
resign my staff--not to thee, but to him who gave it me." Saying this he
went forth from the chapter house to the tomb of S. Edward the
Confessor, and standing before the stone, he cried, "Thou knowest, O my
Master! how reluctantly I received this burden, how often I fled away
from it; how, when sought, that it might be imposed on me, I secreted
myself. I confess that I am a fool, but thou didst constrain me. There
lacked not the election of the brethren, the entreaty of the people, the
will of the bishops, the favour of the nobles; but none of these things
weighed with me like thy authority; it was thy will that bent mine. And
now we have a new king, a new law, a new archbishop, who found new
rights and declare new sentences. They convince thee of error, who
commanded, and me of presumption, who obeyed. Therefore, not to them who
demand, but to thee who gavest; not to them, fallible, walking in
darkness, but to thee who hast been led forth into the clear light of
very truth, and hast escaped out of this region of error and ignorance,
to thee I resign my staff, to thee I surrender the cure of those thou
didst commend to me, to thee I commit them in confidence, knowing well
thy merits."
Having said this, he slowly raised his hand a little, and said, "My lord
and king, accept this, and surrender it to whom thou choosest!" Then he
struck the staff into the sepulchral stone, and laying aside his
pontifical habit, he seated himself, as a monk, among the monks.
Was there ever a grander incident in English Church history? Was there
ever a nobler speech uttered by an English bishop?
Then all, surprised, saw that the staff stood in the stone; and one ran
and told Lanfranc, but he believed it not, and bade Gundulf, Bishop of
Rochester, to whom he had promised the bishopric of Worcester, to go and
bring back the staff. So Gundulf went, but the staff was immovably
imbedded in the stone.
Then the archbishop and the king went to the tomb, and sought to wrench
the staff from where it stood, but they were unable. Lanfranc at once
turned, and coming straight down to where the monk sat, he bowed to him,
and said, "Verily God resisteth the proud and giveth grace unto the
humble. Thy simplicity was scorned by us, brother, but thy righteousness
is made clear as the light. Our wisdom has been brought to naught, and
thy ignorance has prevailed. Take then again that charge which we
unadvisedly deprived thee of, but which we, by our authority and the
judgment of God, commit to thee once more."
But Wulstan hesitated; however, being urged vehemently by those who
stood by, he went to the tomb again, and said:--"Now, my lord and king,
to whose judgment I commended myself, and to whom I resigned my staff,
show me what is thy pleasure. Thou hast preserved thine honour, thou
hast made manifest my innocence. If thine old sentence stands, restore
to me my staff; if not, yield it to whom thou wilt!" Then he put forth
his hand, and touched the staff, and he removed it at once with
ease.[87]
To Lanfranc and Wulstan, acting conjointly, is due the cessation of the
slave traffic in England. It was the custom of the English to sell
slaves to the Irish, and this was subject to a tax which passed into the
royal exchequer. "The credit of this action," says Malmesbury,[88] "I
know not whether to attribute to Lanfranc, or to Wulstan, who would
scarcely have induced the king, reluctant from the profit it produced to
him, to this measure, had not Lanfranc commended it, and Wulstan,
powerful through the sanctity of his character, commended it by
episcopal authority."
[Illustration: S. WULSTAN, BISHOP OF WORCESTER.
From a Design by A. Welby Pugin.
Jan. 19.]
Having taken the oath of allegiance to William, Wulstan remained
faithful. When, in the same year, 1074, some of the Saxon earls rose
against the Conqueror, Wulstan and the abbot of Evesham, supported by
the sheriff of Worcester and Walter de Lacy, prevented their junction,
by raising their vassals and occupying the ford of the Severn.[89]
In the Barons' revolt, 1088, "Bernard du Neuf-Marché, Roger de Lacy, who
had lately wrested Hereford from the king, and Ralph de Mortimer, with
the vassals of the Earl of Shrewsbury, having assembled a numerous army
of English, Normans and Welsh, burst into the province of Worcester,
declaring that they would burn the city of Worcester, plunder the Church
of God and S. Mary, and take summary vengeance on the inhabitants for
their loyalty to the king. On hearing this, the reverend father Wulstan,
Bishop of Worcester, a man of deep piety and dove-like simplicity,
beloved alike by God and the people he governed, faithful to the king as
his earthly lord, was in great tribulation; but soon rallying, by God's
mercy, prepared to stand manfully by his people and city. While they
armed themselves to repel the enemy, he poured forth supplications in
the impending danger, exhorting his people not to despair. Meanwhile,
the Normans, taking counsel, entreated the bishop to remove from the
church into the castle, saying that his presence there would give them
more security, if they were in great peril, for they loved him much.
Such was his extraordinary kindness of heart, that from duty to the
king, and regard for them, he assented to their request.
"Thereupon, the bishop's retainers made ready, and the garrison and the
whole body of citizens assembled, declaring that they would encounter
the enemy on the other side of the Severn, if the bishop would give them
leave. Taking their arms, and being arrayed for battle, they met the
bishop, as he was going to the castle, and besought him to grant their
desire, to which he freely assented. 'Go,' said he, 'My sons, go in
peace, go in confidence, with God's blessing and mine. Trusting in God,
I promise you that no sword shall hurt you this day. Be loyal, and do
valiantly for the safety of the people and the city.'" The victory was
complete. The rebels were routed, and the king's liege-men and the
bishop's retainers returned home in triumph, without the loss of a
single man.[90]
He died in the year 1095, on January the 19th, and was buried with his
ring on his finger. "God suffered no man to remove from his finger the
ring with which he had received episcopal consecration," says Florence
of Worcester; "that the holy man might not appear to forfeit his
engagement to his people, to whom he had often protested that he would
not part with it during his life, nor even on the day of his burial."
[Illustration: SS. Fabian and Sebastian. Jan. 20.]