runs the great
thoroughfare, the Strand, which gives the district its name.

This important street might be considered either as a street of
palaces--and in this respect not to be surpassed by any street in
medieval Europe, not even Venice--or a street full of associations,
connected chiefly with retail trade, taverns, shops, sedan-chairs, and
hackney coaches.

The Strand, as the name implies, was the shore by the river. It has
passed through two distinct phases. First, when it was an open highway,
with a few scattered houses here and there, crossed by small bridges
over the rivulets which flowed down to the Thames. One of these was the
Strand Bridge, between the present Surrey Street and Somerset House;
another, Ivy Bridge, between Salisbury Street and Adam Street. In 1656
there were more than 800 watercourses crossing it between Palace Yard
and the Old Exchange! It was not paved until Henry VIII.'s reign, and we
read of the road being interrupted with thickets and bushes.

Then came a period of great grandeur, when the Strand was lined with
palatial mansions, which had gardens stretching down to the river, when
the town-houses of the Prince-Bishops, of the highest nobility, and even
of royalty, rose up in grandeur. The names of the streets, Salisbury and
Buckingham, York and Durham, Norfolk and Exeter, are no mere fancy, but
recall a vision of bygone splendour which might well cause the Strand to
be named a street of palaces.

The palaces, which occupied at one time the whole of the south side of
the street, were at first the town-houses of the Bishops. They were
built along the river because, in their sacred character, they were safe
from violence (except in one or two cases), and therefore did not need
the protection of the wall, while it was perhaps felt that even if the
worst happened, as it did happen in Jack Straw's rebellion, the river
offered a liberally safe way of escape. In the thirteenth century Henry
III. gave Peter of Savoy "all those houses in the Thames on the way
called the Strand."

Gay speaks of the change that had fallen upon the Strand in his time:

"Through the long Strand together let us stray;
With thee conversing I forget the way.
Behold that narrow street which steep descends,
Whose building to the shining shore extends;
Here Arundel's fam'd structure rear'd its frame,
The street alone retains an empty name:
Where Titian's glowing paint the canvas warm'd,