Evidence met the eye on every side how utterly the first Englishmen had
failed to preserve the cities they had conquered, and how far inferior
they were in cultivation, or rather civilisation, to the softer race
they had so ruthlessly expelled; for on every side broken pedestal and
shattered column appeared clumsily imbedded in the rude domestic
architecture of our forefathers.

St. Paul's Cathedral rose on the hill once sacred to Diana but was
wholly built within the ruins of the vast temple which had once occupied
the site, and which, magnificent in decay, still surrounded it like an
outwork. Further on were the wrecks of the citadel, where once the stern
legionary had watched by day and night, and where Roman discipline and
order had held sway, while the wall raised by Constantine, broken and
imperfect, still rose on the banks of the river. Near the Ludgate was
the palace of the Saxon king, and the ruins of an aqueduct overshadowed
its humbler portal, while without the walls the river Fleet rolled,
amidst vineyards and pleasant meadows dotted with houses, to join the
mighty Thames.

Edred, the reigning king of England, was the brother of the murdered
Edmund, and, in accordance with the custom of the day, had ascended the
throne on the death of his brother, seeing that the two infant sons of
the late king, Edwy and Edgar, were too young to reign, and the idea of
hereditary right was not sufficiently developed in the minds of our
forefathers to suggest the notion of a regency. It must also be
remembered that, within certain limits, there was an elective power in
the Witenagemot or Parliament, although generally limited in its scope
to members of the royal family.