reading; but both his promotion of learned churchmen and the care given to the education of some of his children show that he at least valued the best attainments of his time.  Had William’s whole life been spent in the duties of a Norman duke, ruling his duchy wisely, defending it manfully, the world might never have known him for one of its foremost men, but his life on that narrower field would have been useful and honourable almost without a drawback.  It was the fatal temptation of princes, the temptation to territorial aggrandizement, which enabled him fully to show the powers that were in him, but which at the same time led to his moral degradation.  The defender of his own land became the invader of other lands, and the invader could not fail often to sink into the oppressor.  Each step in his career as Conqueror was a step downwards.  Maine was a neighbouring land, a land of the same speech, a land which, if the feelings of the time could have allowed a willing union, would certainly have lost nothing by an union with Normandy.  England, a land apart, a land of speech, laws, and feelings, utterly unlike those of any part of Gaul, was in another case.  There the Conqueror was driven to be the oppressor.  Wrong, as ever, was punished by leading to further wrong.

With the two fields, nearer and more distant, narrower and wider, on which William was to appear as Conqueror he has as yet nothing to do.  It is vain to guess at what moment the thought of the English succession may have entered his mind or that of his advisers.  When William began his real reign after Val-es-dunes, Norman influence was high in England.  Edward the Confessor had spent his youth among his Norman kinsfolk; he loved Norman ways and the company of Normans and other men of French speech.  Strangers from the favoured lands held endless posts in Church and State; above all, Robert of Jumieges, first Bishop of London and then Archbishop of Canterbury, was the King’s special favourite and adviser.  These men may have suggested the thought of William’s succession very early.  On the other hand, at this time it was by no means clear that Edward might not leave a son of his own.  He had been only a few years married, and his alleged vow of chastity is very doubtful.  William’s claim was of the flimsiest kind.  By English custom the king was chosen out of a single kingly house, and only those who were descended from kings in the male line were counted as members of that house.  William was not descended, even in the female line, from any English king; his whole kindred with Edward was that Edward’s mother Emma, a daughter of Richard the Fearless, was William’s great-aunt.  Such a kindred, to say nothing of William’s bastardy, could give no right to the crown according to any doctrine of succession that ever was heard of.  It could at most point him out as a candidate for adoption, in case the reigning king should be disposed and allowed to choose his successor.  William or his advisers may have begun to weigh this chance very early; but all that is really certain is that William was a friend and favourite of his elder kinsman, and that events finally brought his succession to the English crown within the range of things that might be.