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Signs Of Old London

December 10, 2015
by the gentle author

The little wooden midshipman outside Solomon Gillis’ chandlery, 157 Leadenhall St

Even though most of the signs of old London were destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666, a few created just after that date survive today in the City – anachronisms affixed to modern buildings, as if they were Penny Blacks stuck onto Jiffy padded envelopes. Yet in the Bishopsgate Institute archive, I found plenty of atmospheric pictures of curious stone plaques which lasted into the era of photography, only to be destroyed by the blitz and subsequent redevelopment.

It was Charles I who gave people the right to hang out signs as they pleased, when once they were restricted to innkeepers – “for the better finding out such citizens’ dwellings, shops, pubs or occupations, without impediment, molestation, or interruption to their heirs or successors.” An elaborate language of symbols quickly grew in the common understanding, such as a dragon for an apothecary, a sugar loaf for a grocer, a wheatsheaf for a baker, a frying pan for a confectioner, and – as still seen in Spitalfields today – a spool for a silk weaver.

As time went by, the meanings of the signs became more complex and arcane as shops changed ownership but retained the signs as identifiers of the buildings. James Maddox, the coffin maker at St Olaves had the symbol of three coffins and a sugarloaf, the sugarloaf because it was a former grocers and three coffins as his personal device. Opposite St Dunstan’s in Fleet St, a sign of three squirrels first put up by Henry Pinkley the goldsmith in 1649, was appropriated by the bankers who moved in afterwards, and this symbol of the three squirrels continued to be used by the National Westminster Bank until the mid-twentieth century.

Lombard St was once famed for its array of magnificent signs, and eighteenth century prints show quaint symbols hung upon elaborate wrought iron brackets outside every single premises in Cornhill and Cheapside. Anticipating our modern concern with brands and logos, these devices suited the city before streets were numbered and when many of the populace did not read. But during heavy weather and in strong wind, these monstrous signs creaked and groaned – and, in 1718, a huge sign in Bride St collapsed killing four people and taking part of the shop front with it. Such was the severity of the problem of the forest of hanging signs crowding the streets of London, that a commission was appointed in 1762 to take them all down and fix them onto the shopfronts – thereby creating the modern notion of the fascia sign declaring the identity of the premises.

“The Commissioners are empowered to take down and remove all signs and emblems, used to denote the trade, occupation or calling – any sign posts, sign boards, sign irons, balconies, penthouses, show boards, spouts and gutters projecting into the streets etc, and all other encroachments and projections whatsoever in the said cities and liberties – and cause the same, or such parts thereof as they think fit to be affixed or placed on the front of the houses, shops, alehouses or buildings to which they belong.”

Street numbers were only in partial use at the beginning of the eighteenth century, becoming widespread by the end of the century as a standardised system to identify properties. Although many were reluctant to give up the language of signs and symbols, by the middle of the nineteenth century, the signs were commonly replaced by the familiar pattern of a board with signwriting above the shopwindow. Most of the decorative signs to found in the City of London today are pastiches created a hundred years ago as nostalgic tributes to a bygone age, though two favourites of mine are the golden owl on the House of Fraser, facing South over London Bridge, and the figure of Atlas holding up the globe on the exterior of Barclays in Cheapside.

Just three signs remain in common usage, the barbers’ pole (with its bloody red and white stripe recalling when barbers were also surgeons),  the chemists’ pestle and mortar, and the pawnbrokers’ three balls – originally blue, they turned gold in the early nineteenth century and are said to be based upon the crest of the Dukes of Medici, itself derived from coins taken by Crusaders from Byzantium.

At the sign of the Fox in Lombard St.

At the sign of the Three Kings in Lombard St.

At the sign of the Half Moon in Holywell St, off the Strand.

A physician.

A locksmith.

At the sign of the Lamb & Flag

The grasshopper, symbol of industry and personal emblem of Sir Thomas Gresham who founded the Royal Exchange, is to be found all over the City of London even today.

At the sign of Three Squirrels in Fleet St.

At the sign of the Bull & Mouth in Aldgate.

This was the symbol of the Cutlers.

Child’s bank at the sign of the Marigold in Temple Bar.

In Ely Place, off Hatton Garden – this mitre came from an episcopal palace and was set into the wall of a public house.

The maid of the Mercer’s company is still to be seen in Corbet Court off Gracechurch St.

An old sign that remains in situ outside St Paul’s tube station.“When ye have sought the Citty round, yet still this is the highest ground. August 27th 1698”

“- an old sign affixed to a modern building, like a Penny Black stuck onto a Jiffy padded envelope.”

Archive photographs courtesy Bishopsgate Institute

You may also like to read about

Old Signs in Spitalfields

Ghost Signs of Stoke Newington

Peter Hardwicke, Signwriter

10 Responses leave one →
  1. ParkTown permalink
    December 10, 2015

    I am sure you know that Ye Three Squirrels sign belongs to Barclays Goslings Branch (not NatWest). I think the site has some connection with Twinings Bank, the tea people, who are at 215 Strand with the narrowest shop front? being simply their door which is, or was, next door to NatWest Law Courts Branch at 217 Strand (now a Pret Coffee shop).
    This post is a great read. Thanks.

  2. December 10, 2015

    Lovely art.

  3. December 10, 2015

    How fascination, how beautiful and how strangely comforting.
    Thanks GA, sterling stuff!

  4. December 10, 2015

    A wonderful collection of signs. Valerie

  5. Pamela V. Cullen permalink
    December 10, 2015

    Paris had the same problem with signs: as the city grew signs became larger and more dangrous. Balzac describes how people put up signs bearing no relation to the business as, the more peculiar they were, the more likely it would be that customers would find the shop, note his story ‘The Cat and Racket’. The cat was a stuffed one! ‘U’ (At the Sign of) is still in use in Prague.

  6. Phaedra permalink
    December 10, 2015

    Another lovely article. NB Three squirrels symbol was Barclays, via Goslings Bank. Some Barclays banks outside of London still have them, eg York I believe.

  7. Stephen Barker permalink
    December 10, 2015

    I like the Bull and Mouth.

  8. Pauline Taylor permalink
    December 10, 2015

    Another really interesting post, I love the ones about the history of London as they help me to visualise how all my many London ancestors must have lived, some may even have been around when those signs from the 17th century first went up. Quite a thought!

  9. Roy Stephenson permalink
    December 13, 2015

    The Bull and Mouth sign is the Museum of London collections
    and in the rotunda garden you can see this amazing version

  10. January 26, 2016

    Interesting site, I use to have a pitch in spitalfieds market, weekdays and or sunday, I dont like what they have done to the building now, area is much improved now compared to years ago,pity city is crammed with awful buildings.

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