the persecutions
which he had undergone from William, he sent repeated messages to him at
Lyons, where he resided, and invited him to return and take possession
of his dignities.[**] On the arrival of the prelate, he proposed to him
the renewal of that homage which he had done his brother, and which had
never been refused by any English bishop; but Anslem had acquired
other sentiments by his journey to Rome, and gave the king an absolute
refusal.

[* Chron. Sax. p. 208. W. Malms, p. 156. M. Paris, p. 39.
Alured. Beverl. p. 144.]

[** Chron. Sax. p. 208. Order. Vitalis, p. 783. M. Paris, p.
39 C. Judon, p 273.]

He objected the decrees of the council of Bari, at which he himself
had assisted; and he declared, that, so far from doing homage for
his spiritual dignity, he would not so much as communicate with any
ecclesiastic who paid that submission, or who accepted of investitures
from laymen. Henry, who expected, in his present delicate situation, to
reap great advantages from the authority and popularity of Anselm, durst
not insist on his demand;[*] he only desired that the controversy might
be suspended, and that messengers might be sent to Rome, in order to
accommodate matters with the pope, and obtain his confirmation of the
laws and customs of England.

There immediately occurred an important affair, in which the king was
obliged to have recourse to the authority of Anselm. Matilda, daughter
of Malcolm III., king of Scotland, and niece to Edgar Atheling, had,
on her father's death, and the subsequent revolutions in the Scottish
government, been brought to England, and educated under her aunt
Christina, in the nunnery of Rumsey. This princess Henry purposed to
marry; but as she had worn the veil, though never taken the vows, doubts
might arise concerning the lawfulness of the act; and it behoved him to
be very careful not to shock, in any particular, the religious prejudges
of his subjects. The affair was examined by Anselm, in a council of
the prelates and nobles, which was summoned at Lambeth; Matilda there
proved, that she had put on the veil, not with a view of entering into
a religious life, but merely in consequence of a custom familiar to the
English ladies who protected their chastity from the brutal violence of
the Normans by taking shelter under that habit,[**] which, amidst the
horrible licentiousness of the times, was yet generally revered. The
council, sensible that even a princ