My journey to work in the City of London would often take me under the hanging signs of Lombard Street. This ancient lane curves east from Bank tube station and links two of the City’s finest churches, Nicholas Hawksmoor’s splendidly compact St Mary Woolnoth and Robert Hooke’s Dutch-inspired St Edmund, King & Martyr. Both were built in the period after the Great Fire.
St Mary Woolnoth
St Edmund King & Martyr
No matter how many times I make the journey, my attention is always grabbed by the astonishing giant golden grasshopper sign hanging high above my head outside number 68.
The Lombard Street Grasshopper
Further up the street, there are other old-looking signs, including a Cat and Fiddle and what appears, based on a resemblance to King Charles II, to be The King’s Head & Sun.
Where did these street signs come from, and why? I’d always imagined them to relate to the banks and other institutions that line the street. I also knew vaguely that the grasshopper had some connection to Sir Thomas Gresham, a Tudor financier and founder of the Royal Exchange, who is buried in the nearby church of St Helen, Bishopsgate. But that was all. I didn’t know the facts. Not only are the signs themselves peculiar, but there seems nothing to explain their linkage to the residents of their respective premises.
I was therefore delighted to come across a fascinating antiquarian book, The Signs of Old Lombard Street. This treasure reveals not only the story of these Lombard Street signs – and the important part that its author, Frederick Hilton Price, played in their Edwardian restoration – but also the wider history of British banking including the explanation of how these ancient street signs came to give Barclays and Lloyd’s, two of London’s best known banks, their trademark logos.
Frederick Hilton Price
Born in 1842, Hilton Price was himself a Lombard Street banker. After joining his father’s firm of Child & Co as a clerk, he worked his way up to become senior partner. With his mutton-chop whiskers, wing collar and cravat (see image below) he seems the epitome of the Victorian City gentleman. In a typically Victorian way he was also an enthusiastic amateur historian, archaeologist and collector, a Fellow of the Royal Geographical and London Topographical Societies and President of the Egypt Exploration Fund. He researched and published widely, presenting a paper on the Lombard Street signs to the Institute of Bankers in 1887 and publishing it in book form in 1902.
Frederick Hilton Price (1842-1909)
According to Hilton Price, Lombard Street had been the site chosen by London goldsmiths for their craft ever since the Norman conquest. The first goldsmiths were Jewish, but after they were expelled from England by Edward I they were replaced by Lombards or Longobards from Italy, the first of whom were the Corsini family. John Stow’s Survey of London explains that in the reign of Edward II a building was set aside for them between Lombard Street and Cornhill, which became known as the King’s (later the Royal) Exchange. The goldsmiths and banking trades brought wealth and finery to Lombard Street. By the mid 16th century it was considered the finest street in London, a view supported by Samuel Pepys after the Great Fire.
From the earliest times, London’s business premises adopted street signs to advertise their whereabouts. Given that the vast majority of the population were unable to read or write, it became useful to adopt visual images to identify premises and distinguish one shop from another. As early as 1375, one Simon Leggi, son of a Lord Mayor of London, was trading at The Raven Tavern. By 1560 Thomas Muschamp, a goldsmith to Queen Elizabeth, was trading at the sign of The Ring and Ruby. Around the same time, The Grasshopper made its first appearance outside number 68, being the representation of the family crest of the occupier Sir Thomas Gresham.
Sir Thomas Gresham (c.1519-1579)
Hilton Price’s study reveals that most of the Lombard Street premises had similar signs, with a remarkable 168 separate signs recorded over the years. He paints a beguiling image of the Tudor street, with the signs ‘…swinging over the doors or shop fronts: many projecting far into the roadway in order to attract more attention, and many were fixed to posts in front of the houses.’
This tendency grew until the signs, by the time of King Charles II, became such a nuisance and danger to the public (in some cases the weight of the signs caused the entire front of the building to collapse into the street) that a law was passed preventing signs from overhanging the street. After the Great Fire it became the fashion to create the signs out of stone. This led to them becoming almost as great a nuisance as before, until by the mid-18th century they had almost all died away altogether.
This situation appears to have persisted for 150 years or so until Hilton Price’s day. He remarked that it ‘has of late become fashionable…to replace the old sign of the house’ on the cheques issued by London banks. In 1902 this interest in the old signs gave Hilton Price and his associates the idea of resurrecting as many of them as possible to commemorate the coronation of King Edward VII.
In the end, 23 such signs were erected. They made a rather splendid sight:
Lombard Street in 1902 with signs restored
Hilton Price’s full list of the restored signs is here:
A century later, many of these institutions remain household names. Others, such as Guinness Mahon and Guardian Assurance, have relatively recently been swallowed up during one or other wave of city consolidation. Of the signs themselves, most have disappeared and some have been altered.
Even the golden Grasshopper, still resplendent outside number 68, appears to be a replacement for the less flamboyant 1902 version. Having been inherited after Sir Thomas Gresham’s departure by successive occupants of the site, the premises was taken over by one Edmund Backwell in 1662, beginning an unbroken chain of ownership by the firm which ultimately became Martins and later Barclays Bank. Martins remained at 68 Lombard Street and used the grasshopper as its sign until its own acquisition by Barclays in 1969. It is claimed that this represents the longest continuous use of a business premises by any bank in the world.
Of the few other remaining signs, the Cat-a-Fiddling seems to have crossed the road since 1902 and the “Head” of the Queen’s Head & Sun has metamorphosed into that of a King.
Several of the other 1902 signs have only recently disappeared. The grasshopper’s former neighbour, the Anchor belonging to Glyn, Mills & Co, at the time of writing had temporarily surrendered to the developers (then resurrected, now gone again!). But two of the other, now missing, signs have perhaps the greatest resonance: the Barclays Black Spread Eagle at number 56 and the Lloyd’s Black Horse at number 73.
The histories of the Barclays and Lloyd’s signs
Number 56 Lombard Street was known as The Black Spread Eagle as early as 1672. By 1702 the premises were occupied by Messrs Freame & Gould; in 1728 Mr Freame was joined in partnership by James Barclay and the firm evolved into the Barclays Bank we know today. The Spread Eagle has remained the Barclays logo ever since, albeit with some small alterations including a change of colour to blue in the 1960s (in 2008, when Barclays attempted to acquire the Dutch bank ABN Amro, it reportedly considered dropping the Eagle logo due to sensitivities in the Netherlands over its similarity to the Nazi eagle sign). The 1902 sign remained in place in Lombard Street until 2005 when it was removed on Barclays’ departure to Canary Wharf. It was last seen advertised by an architectural salvage house, so presumably is now in private hands:
The Black Horse sign was first recorded at 53 Lombard Street in about 1677 when it was adopted by the goldsmith Humphrey Stokes, a friend of Samuel Pepys. Around 1728 the then owner, John Bland, took the sign with him when he moved up the street to number 62. The business became known as Bland & Barnett until 1884 when it was taken over by Lloyd’s Bank, who adopted the sign as the company’s logo. When Lloyd’s themselves moved premises to number 73 they again retained the sign, which remained in place until 2003 when Lloyd’s too moved its head office away from Lombard Street.
So, thanks to Frederick Hilton Price, we can explain the origins of the logos still used by two of Britain’s best-known companies. Both date back almost to the Great Fire and must therefore be among the oldest corporate logos still in use in the world today. And thanks to Hilton Price’s enthusiastic desire to please his new King, we can all still enjoy at least a few remnants of Lombard Street’s ancient hanging signs, and hopefully for many more years to come.
Further Reading
I hope you enjoyed this post. This blog contains more occasional musings on London’s history. My book, THE BOSS OF BETHNAL GREEN, was published in hardback by Spitalfields Life Books in 2016 and is now also available as an e-book on the Amazon Kindle store.
Sources
1. Frederick G Hilton Price, The Signs of Old Lombard Street (1902):
2. RBS archives: Frederick Hilton Price
4. Barclays archive: The Spread Eagle
5. Lloyd’s Banking Group: The Black Horse
Great read! You may also like to include Rothschilds of New Court, at some time, the sign on the ultra modern Koolhaas building dates back to 1700s.
Thanks for feedback! I will take a closer look at New Court. There’s a photo on my Pinterest at http://pinterest.com/pin/210472982557041765/
but I missed the sign!
Excellent article, I’ve had a soft spot for Lombard Street since I had to give it a presentation on it for my entry selection interview onto the City guides course.
For such a small, unprepossessing little street in the heart of the City, its significance in the history of banking and finance is huge; no less than being able to lay claim to the origin of the word “bank” itself (the original 12th century Lombardian settlers plied their trade from trestle-table type market stalls, the Italian word for which is “banco” and it is believed the term “bank” is a corruption of that). They also introduced a currency system based on the Roman librae, solidi, denarii system or, as we came to know it, £.s.d, – so the £ sign was born there – and introduced into the lexicon still commonly used commercial language such as debtor, creditor, cash, usance, bankrupt, journal, diary, ditto and ledger.
And as if that wasn’t enough by way of claims to fame, Charles Dickens was a regular nocturnal visitor just to gaze on the room facing onto Plough Court where his first love, Maria Beadnell, slept in the Smith Childs and Smith bank where her father was manager. It was, unfortunately, an ill-starred romance; Dickens was a lowly shorthand reporter at the Doctors’ Commons law courts at the time and Beadnells father, disapproving of the attention from one of such a lowly station, sent her away to school in Europe. A few years later Dickens was world famous and a millionaire, so as bad decisions go, possibly up there with the guy at Decca who saw no future with the Beatles!
Fascinating! Thanks for taking the time to respond with such interesting detail. Julian
Smith, Payne and Smith bank, should I say. Sorry, mixing up my historic banks!
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Thus far I’ve read half a dozen of your articles, each more fascinating than the last. But this one takes the cake.
Consider yourself followed. (in a good way)
Thanks for your kind comments – much appreciated!
Wonderful articles and research. I teach college students and graduate trainees about finance and the City, including its history. I was delighted to find your great blog and excellent articles, thanks!
Thanks for your kind comments!
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Thanks for the link!
New to working in the City I today noticed the Cat and Fiddle and Locust sign in Lombard Street so delighted to discover your site which an explanation and history.
Thanks! Sorry to be so long in replying, I had missed this!
I worked in Lombard Street at Lloyds Bank Head Office from 1964 – 1967. It was also the City Office. I worked in the Securities Department on the ground floor. 100 people doing what several would do now. There was a basement where 100 girls worked on contomitors with no daylight. The canteen was on the top floor where there was a staff room and we could sit outside on a narrow balcony way up above the road.
Thanks Linda. I had forgotten comptometers – I vaguely remember them from my accountancy training in the 1980s but had to look it up!
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comptometer
Hi,
On a recent trip to London, I had some time to kill after visiting Leadenhall Market before my Skygarden time slot at 120 Fenchurch (Eraser/Walkie Talkie) so I was wandering around with no particular agenda. Randomly, I set off down Cornhill and stumbled onto St. Michael’s and ventured down the alley, finding George & Vulture (another pleasant surprise), and ultimately dumping out at Lombard Street to behold the gorgeous signage. I was browsing my photos today and set about to find out what the signs were all about. Thank you so much for this info! I only wish I had known of your blog prior to my trip as there are interesting jewels of history around every corner in this area. Although I managed to “discover” several of them serendipitously, I will surely consult your site the next time I visit so that I don’t miss a thing.
Thanks Valerie, that’s very kind! Glad you enjoyed it.
Since I now know the history of the signs (thanks to you), it has benefitted my other research. I have been reading several books on the history of tea and the grasshopper sign was mentioned in reference to Thomas Garraway’s coffee house on Exchange Alley off Lombard Street. There is supposedly a plaque at the location with a grasshopper carving. I also ran across this book from 1892 which you might be interested in (if you haven’t already read it!) – “The Grasshopper” in Lombard Street by John Biddulph Martin. It is available free from Google books.
In the 1960s, I worked as a secretary in the Banking Department at Glyn, Mills & Co., 67 Lombard Street. My desk was on the Mezzanine, overlooking the beautiful Banking Hall. We worked on “silent” manual typewriters and were only permitted to speak (in low tones) when absolutely necessary in order not to disturb the visitors doing business below us. Walking down Lombard Street everyday on my way to work, I looked up at those signs and marvelled, particularly at the golden grasshopper, never knowing their history. Thank you very much for your extremely interesting research; it brought back many happy memories for me. I am disappointed, however, to think that several signs have disappeared — and unhappy that no-one had the forethought to preserve them in a musuem for future generations. Despite the London Blitz, many of the City’s old buildings survived WW2 unscathed but have been ruthlessly demolished since then in the name of progress. I know we have to march with the times, but how distressing it is to discover how much of the old City has gone and has been replaced by soulless, steel and glass buildings of no character or charm.
Thanks for your fascinating story. The Museum of London has a number of old London signs, though not sure if any from Lombard St – I will post a link to their website… good news is the Glyn Mills Anchor is now back in place after renovation of the building!
Here’s ‘The Goose & Gridiron’:
http://www.museumoflondonprints.com/image/936092/goose-and-gridiron-tavern-sign-c-1801
17th-18th century goldsmiths the precursor to modern banking had various signs,
most beginning with gold.. golden anchor, golden falcon etc, which started in
Cheapside and Fleet Street.
Thanks Teresa!
Fascinating. My first job on leaving school was at #72, Royal Bank if Scotland.
Thanks Pat!
Wow, this is a real gem of an article! I actually came across this while researching my family ancestry who had their goldsmith shop on Lombard Street, and am trying find a picture of their shop sign. I found a will proved 23 Aug, 1619 by my 11th great grandmother, Mary Feake (wife of James Feake) that said,
“…Son John Feake to have the messuage known by the sign of the Noah, in Lumbard Street…”
But I’ve looked everywhere for a sign called “Noah” and I can’t find anything mentioning a sign called Noah. I’m guessing it would have depicted a rainbow or something biblical, but I don’t really know. If anybody has ever heard of any Lombard street signs referred to as Noah, or that look like a rainbow, or has any suggestions on where else I could look, it would be sincerely appreciated.
Thanks for posting this article! Super interesting and cool!
Thanks Lisa! Have sent you an email…
Hello, Like Lisa I’ve researched the Feake (Feke) family of goldsmiths on Lombard Street. To cut to the chase, Tobias and Judith Feake, who had migrated to America inherited property on Lombard Street, possibly the one associated with the Sign of Noah. Tobias Feake ended up living near New Amsterdam and was arrested in 1658 by Peter Stuyvesant for allowing Quaker “conventicles” in the town where Tobias was sheriff. The Feakes are all over the colonial history of NY. Thanks very much for the great post and how the goldsmiths of Lombard Street morphed into the early London banking establishments.
Lisa, did you ever learn any more about the sign of Noah? The Feake family are also my ancestors
I was involved in the refurbishment of 67 Lombard Street in 2013/14. The anchor was taken down and carefully stored at the Contractor’s yard, then put up again as one of the final tasks. Note that on the walls of 67 Lombard Street there are also large anchors carved in relief at street level at both ends of the building. These were in a terrible state when we started the refurbishment, and the stonemasons we hired did a marvellous job in restoring them perfectly.
Sorry I missed this comment earlier. Thanks – it’s great to see the anchor back up again and to know how well it was looked after. Julian
My first job was at Glynn Mills 67 Lombard St. I met my future husband there. Worked in the basement with painted widows on one wall. It was part of the clearing department called “The Waste”. Was there when Churchill died and remember being allowed to leave work (it was a Saturday morning ) to go out to King Edwards street to see the procession go past. Transferred to Childs at 1 Fleet St, steaped in history. Now live in Canberra Australia but have happy memories.
Thanks Jacqui. I hope you meant ‘windows’? I now have a disturbing mental image of the way Glynn Mills abused their staff! Julian
Hi. Very interesting article thanks. Having not long started working back in the City just off Lombard St. I thought I’d look up some of the remaining signs.
For info, I worked for Lloyds Bank for many years and was a frequent visitor to ‘Head Office’ at 73 and I still look at the building with great admiration. When the Bank moved to it’s new head office in Gresham St I asked what was going to happen to the sign and was told it was going to be returned to it’s original location post-redevelopment work on the building as the ‘City’ wanted to retain the financial heritage of Lombard St. This never happened and the sign is in the Lloyds Bank archives in Victoria which I had the pleasure of visiting before I left the company. It’s a shame because it’s a lovely piece of work.
If anyone wanted to see it I believe the archives are open by appointment but this is generally for researchers only:
https://www.lloydsbankinggroup.com/our-group/our-heritage/our-archives/visit-us/
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Hello, how very interesting. I am also interested in the Feake Family. Judith Feake was my 11th great grandmother. I was trying to find some history of the goldsmithing in London and came across your site. Are you able to help with “the messuage known by the sign of the Noah, in Lumbard Street…” I would be very grateful,
Would the Anchor sign have been in place at Glyn, Mills (67 Lombard St) in 1891? Thanks very much indeed.
Dear Tom, apologies I have just seen this comment having not posted on the blog for some time. I’m afraid I don’t have a definitive answer to your question. Most of the hanging signs were installed for Edward VII’s coronation, but that of course doesn’t mean that some may have existed before then. You might try the Guildhall Library? Regards, Julian.