Thomas was born in the family home in Cheapside on December 21, most likely in 1120,5 and was baptized later that day at the Church of Saint Mary Colechurch, which was just next door to the Becket home. Given that babies were usually baptized a few days after birth, Thomas’s quick baptism may be an indication that he was sickly, or at least that his parents feared he was. As it was the feast of Saint Thomas the Apostle,6 he was given that name. It must be noted that though Thomas is often referred to as Thomas Becket, he never actually used what is now regarded as his surname; indeed, there is evidence that he may have disliked it. The name Becket derives from the diminutive of the French word bec; its origin is not certain, though there are three theories.7 The first, not the most pleasant one, maintains that Becket referred to a physical trait within the family — a rather prominent, beaklike nose. Beak in French is bec, so “Beaky.” Thomas did indeed have that feature, and the fact that he did not use Becket and his enemies did may lend credence to this theory, or at least to Thomas’s and his enemies’ belief in it. The second theory is less embarrassing, in that Becket may refer to the Norman name for a brook, bec. A third theory suggests that the name may be derived from a town or area in France called Bec, of which there are many. Thomas’s father would have had connections with Bec in Normandy,8 and his family may have had its ancestral origins there. The truth may never be known. What is known is that Thomas never used the name, though his father did. During his lifetime, he was known as Thomas of London until his appointment as archbishop, when he became known as Thomas of Canterbury. The form à Becket was never used by or of Gilbert or Thomas; it is, in fact, a later invention, perhaps contrived in imitation of Thomas à Kempis, author in the fifteenth century of The Imitation of Christ.
Thomas was one of four surviving children born to the couple; his three sisters were Agnes, Rose (or Roheise), and Mary.9 As the couple’s only son, he was the apple of Gilbert’s eye, but Matilda was particularly devoted to him, and it was his close relationship with his mother that would prove most influential in his life. Contemporary biographies of the martyr present Matilda as an extraordinary figure. She is, for example, credited with various dreams or visions that seemed to foretell her son’s future glory. In his biography of Thomas, written a year or so after the martyrdom, which he witnessed and tried to prevent, Edward Grim10 details some of these phenomena.11 He relates, first of all, that after she conceived Thomas, Matilda had a vision in which she saw the River Thames, which flows through London, flowing within her. Fearful, Matilda believed this was an evil omen, but when she sought counsel from a man of God, she was told that one born of her would rule over many people. Another wise person offered a supplementary insight: She would soon receive a stream of graces that would be like a river irrigating the land in the manner of the Gospel teaching that the one who is thirsty should come to Christ so that fountains of living water should flow out of Christ into him (cf. Jn 7:37–38). Matilda was deeply comforted by these explanations, but more visions were to come.12
Grim recounts a second vision in which Matilda is brought to Canterbury, and as she tries to enter the cathedral there, her womb begins to swell with her child to such an extent that she cannot enter the building. Again, she was distressed — did this mean that she was unworthy to enter a church?13 A subsequent vision given to her, Grim explains, banished this fear. As she was preparing for the birth, she had a vision of twelve stars of extraordinary brightness falling from the sky onto her lap. Grim interprets this vision not only as prophesying Thomas’s greatness but also a sign that Thomas will preside over the world at the Last Judgment with those twelve elect lights of heaven.14
A final vision related by Grim seems to signify Thomas’s prominence. In this dream, Matilda sees her son lying in his crib naked. Rebuking the nurse caring for him, Matilda is told by the nurse that he is covered; there is a noble purple cloth folded over him. To make sure that he is covered properly, Matilda and the nurse attempt to unfold the cloth, but discover that the room is too small for them to do so; they try to unfold it in other rooms, but they are also too small. Eventually, they go out into Smithfield, a large open space in London, but that place is not big enough either. Failing to find a large enough space, they hear a voice from heaven that tells them that all their efforts are in vain — not even all England is large enough to contain this purple cloth.15
These visions and dreams have to be regarded with caution. While they cannot be completely dismissed, they are recounted by a biographer who not only wished to understand and celebrate the life of a martyr but also sought to defend a man whose life at that point in time posed more questions than it answered. Many medieval hagiographies employed such mystical phenomena to hail both God’s singular blessing on their subject from infancy and their subject’s future greatness, so Grim or others may have invented these stories to add luster to the archbishop. That said, it is not beyond the realm of possibility that these stories contain a germ of truth, preserving some less prophetic dreams Matilda may have had during the course of her pregnancy. There are historians who are of the opinion that these dreams are just fanciful elements of medieval hagiography and there is a sound basis for that opinion.16
Whatever her mystical experiences may or may not have been, Matilda Becket was a pious woman who took her responsibilities as a Christian mother seriously, and her efforts in this regard would prove fruitful, instilling in her son a simple but authentic piety that would remain even in his most extravagant years. In this, Matilda almost certainly set her son on the road to holiness and prepared him for the conversion that lay ahead. Whatever doctrines he learned as student, deacon, priest, and bishop, it was Matilda’s own living of her faith and her deep devotion to the Mother of God that most profoundly affected Thomas. Many years later, he would speak most fondly of her, once saying to his friend John of Salisbury that it was from her lips that his first lessons in godliness came. He also mentioned her love of Our Lady, a love that had instilled itself in his heart through her example.17 Some of Thomas’s biographers have speculated that though he was surrounded by women, in his life, he had a close relationship with only two: his mother and the Mother of God.18 The nature of those relationships may well have preserved him in the years to come.
Matilda was Thomas’s first teacher. Being of noble stock and a draper’s wife, she would have had a rudimentary education to assist her husband in the day-to-day running of their business. If she came from a family socially superior to her husband’s, she may have been better educated than he was. She passed these skills on to Thomas, who proved to be an amenable and able student. While reading and arithmetic formed part of her curriculum, Matilda’s primary focus was the fundamentals of the Christian faith and teaching her son how to pray. Thomas and his sisters were brought to Mass each Sunday, and the family prayed every day. A love for the poor and the practice of charity were urged on the children. When he was three, his mother weighed Thomas and from then on would give the value of his weight in alms, often urging him to go out to visit the poor and give the alms himself.19 He was taught that the measure of who he was as a person and a Christian depended on the measure of his charity. For the rest of his life, Thomas would hold to his mother’s example; even when immersed in the ways of the world, he remained true to prayer and charity, regularly seeking out those in need and giving alms, often lavishly.
Though there were tensions between the native Londoners and the Normans, Thomas and his generation seemed to marry the two traditions quite successfully. The family home was notably Norman and comfortable by contemporary standards. The family members spoke French among themselves at home but used English when speaking to the servants and for relationships and business outside the house.20 As a property owner and landlord, Gilbert had some standing within the community, and he was so well respected that he was elected to serve as a sheriff in the city. Thomas would have grown up with a sense of privilege thanks to his father’s success, and as he grew older, he would have expected to become important and influential himself.
By the time he was seven, Matilda had exhausted all she could teach him, and the decision was made