Thomas Becket. Father John S. Hogan

Чтение книги онлайн.

      Though of Norman stock, Thomas Becket was, above all, a Londoner, and that is of vital importance. Londoners were, and still are for the most part, a people set apart from the rest of the English. Though often of mixed ancestry, Londoners gel into a single, determined will, and though they might fight among themselves, should danger come from without, they stand as a single entity. This “plucky” attitude has seen them through various disasters, from the plague and the Great Fire of 1666 to the Blitz during the Second World War and the terrorist attacks that threaten London today. Londoners do not surrender easily. For much of their history, the threat from without was monarchical.

      Londoners were wary of kings. They considered London an independent city. That spirit of independence so marked its denizens that monarchs felt the need to tread carefully. During the Norman invasion, following the death of the Anglo-Saxon King Harold at the Battle of Hastings in October 1066, the triumphant William the Conqueror was quickly relieved of any fantasy he might have entertained of walking into London and claiming his capital. Before his coronation at Westminster, he would have to lay siege to the city.¹ The winter of 1066 saw William up against stiff resistance as he tried to bring his capital to heel. His victory at Hastings might have decided the fate of England, but not of London. The city would eventually fall, but William took note of the lesson: Londoners were proud and ready to make any sacrifice necessary to keep what they saw as their autonomy; it would be best to keep them onside. Though William built a defensive castle, the White Tower (now the Tower of London), to keep an eye on the Londoners and subjugate them, he dared not build it in the city, but erected it instead on land beyond the city limits. The Londoners still resented it as an affront to their liberty. And though William and later kings granted them charters,² they resented those, too, since they implied that the king of England had the authority to grant them.

      So Thomas, son of Gilbert and Matilda Becket, was a Londoner — a man who cherished his autonomy and freedom and, if necessary, was prepared to fight to preserve what he believed was his. His proud Norman blood may well have enforced that determination. His father, Gilbert, hailed from Thierville, a town southwest of the city of Rouen, and was from the knightly class; his mother, Matilda, was a native of Caen.³ Gilbert had made a career for himself as a textile merchant in Rouen, and he may have met the young Matilda there. There is speculation that Matilda may have been from a wealthy family and of a higher social standing than Gilbert;⁴ if so, he improved his prospects in marrying her. They are believed to have been in their early twenties when they married sometime before 1110, young enough to leave Normandy and immigrate to London to start a new and prosperous life, as had many other Normans who were settling there since the invasion. The couple found a home in Cheapside, not far from Saint Paul’s Cathedral; there, Gilbert continued to work as a textile merchant until he found a new interest and income in the property business.

      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 СКАЧАТЬ