London Signs and Inscriptions

by Philip Norman

‘Hay, hay the wythe Swan,
By Gode’s soule I am thy man.’

The Mandevilles, Earls of Essex, bore as their arms, gules, a swan argent, ducally collared and chained or, which the Bohuns, who were descended from them, adopted; and for this reason, no doubt, it became a badge of King Henry IV., who was a Bohun on the mother’s side. It is represented in the central spandrel of the canopy of the brass in Westminster Abbey to Eleanora de Bohun, Duchess of Gloucester, who died in 1399. From such high beginnings the Chained Swan gradually came, as we see, to be used as a tavern sign. Another specimen, carved in stone, was the sign of a house in Eastcheap, not far from the Boar’s Head. It is mentioned by Pennant, and by J. T. Smith, but disappeared early in this century.

Here I am tempted to say a few words about the Swan with Two Necks, because, though now only represented by modern bas-reliefs at No. 65, Gresham Street, and in Aldermanbury, they recall the memory of a famous inn, and the sign is one of the quaintest in London. The Swan with Two Necks ‘at Milke Street end’ is noticed by Machyn in his ‘Diary,’ August 5, 1556. In 1637, as we learn from Taylor, the Water Poet, carriers from Manchester and other places lodged at the Two-necked Swan in Lad Lane. Towards the end of last century it became a great coaching centre, and continued to flourish till steam drove the coaches off the road, when it revived in a new form. Mr. Stanley Harris, in his amusing book, ‘Old Coaching Days,’ says that ‘the gateway out of the yard of the Swan with Two Necks, through which the various coaches passed, and Milk Lane and Lad Lane, was so narrow that it required some horsemanship to drive out a fast team just started, and some care on the part of the guard, that his horn or bugle basket, which was usually hung on to the iron of the back seat of the coach nearest the roof, was not jammed against the gate-post. Between four and five on an afternoon was a time worth being in that same yard of the Swan with Two Necks for anyone who took an interest in coaching.’ The proprietor of this establishment was Mr. William Chaplin, who, originally a coachman, became, perhaps, the greatest coach proprietor that ever lived. ‘Nimrod,’ writing about 1835, tells us that at that time Mr. Chaplin occupied the yards of no fewer than five famous and important inns in London, namely the Spread Eagle and Cross Keys, Gracechurch Street; the Swan with Two Necks, Lad Lane; the White Horse, which still exists in Fetter Lane, and the Angel, behind St. Clement’s. He had no fewer than 1,300 horses at work on various roads, and about that time horsed 14 out of the 27 coaches leaving London every night. When the railways came he bowed to the inevitable, and, in partnership with Mr. Horne, established the great carrying business, which still flourishes on the site of the old Swan with Two Necks. In 1845 Lad Lane was absorbed by Gresham Street.

The origin of the sign has been disputed, but it is generally considered to have arisen as follows: The swans on the upper reaches of the Thames are owned respectively by the Crown, and the Dyers’ and Vintners’ Companies of the City of London, and, according to ancient custom, the representatives of these several owners make an expedition each year up the river and mark the cygnets. The royal mark used to consist of five diamonds, the dyers’ of four bars and one nick, the vintners’ of the chevron or letter V and two nicks. The word ‘nicks’ has been corrupted into necks, and as the vintners were often tavern-keepers, the Swan with Two Necks became a common sign. The swan-marks which I have described continued in use until the year 1878, when the swanherds were prosecuted by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, on the ground that they inflicted unnecessary pain. Although the prosecution failed, the marks have since been simplified. In August, 1888, the Queen’s swan-keeper and the officials of the Vintners’ and Dyers’ Companies, during the process of ‘swan-upping,’ as it is termed, captured and nicked 343 birds, of which 178 were claimed by her Majesty, 94 by the Vintners’, and 71 by the Dyers’ Company. To the constable of the Tower formerly belonged the right of ‘lifting’ all swans which came below bridge. A swan not marked is supposed to belong to the Crown. The earliest extant record giving leave to the Vintners’ Company to keep a certain number of swans on the river is dated 1509.

An inn with this sign painted in front is still to be seen on the south side of Carter Lane; it has a yard at the back and some remains of old galleries.

Not many years ago a curious sign was placed in front of No. 16, Church Street, formerly Church Lane, Chelsea, having been dug up in the small back garden which was built over a short time previously. The material of this sign is cast iron; it is therefore not, strictly speaking, a sculptured sign, but may, I think, be fairly included in the same class. The design (see ante, 89) is like that of a seventeenth-century fire-back, and represents a cock vigorously attempting to swallow a snake which he has seized by the tail; a second snake on the ground behind him rears its head as if to strike. Above is the date 1652. When this sign first saw the light, Chelsea was a detached village grouped near the old church, with fine villas of noblemen in the immediate neighbourhood. On the east side of Church Lane houses were continuous from the church to the parsonage; one of them was doubtless known as the Cock, but I have no special information about it. A curious fact has, however, come to light, tending to show that signs of this description were kept in stock, and repeated again and again. In 1874 a sign was dug up in the foundations of Messrs. Smith, Payne, and Smith’s Bank, No. 1, Lombard Street, which, on comparison, I find to be similar in all respects, and, as far as I can judge, cast from the same mould. No. 1, Lombard Street is on the site of the east end of the Stocks Market, cleared away in 1737 to make room for the Mansion House. I find from the ‘Handbook of Bankers,’ by Mr. F. G. Hilton Price, F.S.A., that in 1734 there was a house here with the sign of the Cock in the occupation of Thomas Stevenson, fishmonger. Later in the century the site was occupied by Messrs. Harley and Co., bankers. A sign of similar kind, perhaps really a decorated fire-back, is to be seen at the entrance to a Cock Tavern near Billingsgate. This appears to be considerably older. It has been very much damaged; possibly, as the owner says, in the Great Fire of London.

To the genuine Londoner a more interesting sign than either of the above is the carved wooden figure of a cock, which is a relic of that famous old tavern, the Cock in Fleet Street. A house so historic needs no detailed description from me. The sign is quite worthy of Grinling Gibbons, to whom—but without authority—it has often been attributed. This formerly stood over the doorway. Some years ago it was stolen, but shortly afterwards restored, and to prevent accidents it is now kept inside[50] the house of entertainment, on the opposite side of the street, to which, after the destruction of his old home, the proprietor, the late Mr. Colnett, removed. He also with pious care preserved the quaint Jacobean mantelpiece, which so many of us were familiar with before it shifted its quarters. If the kind reader wishes to refresh his memory with the sight of these and other relics, let him pay a visit to the new Cock, where he will find excellent fare and the utmost attention from Paul, who comes from the old house—a worthy successor of ‘the plump headwaiter at the Cock,’ whom Lord Tennyson has immortalized.

A newspaper paragraph has reminded me of a sign with a history, which I once saw in the Minories. In the year 1719 a boy was born of humble parentage in Whitechapel, who, as Benjamin Kenton, vintner and philanthropist, achieved a considerable reputation. He was educated at the charity school of the parish, and in his fifteenth year apprenticed to the landlord of the Angel and Crown in Goulston Street, Whitechapel. Having served his time, he became waiter and drawer at the Crown and Magpie in Aldgate High Street, not long since pulled down. The sign was a Crown of stone and a Magpie carved in pear-tree wood, and the house was frequented by sea captains. Kenton’s master is said to have been among the first who possessed the art of bottling beer for warm climates. He, without reason, changed the sign to the Crown; his custom fell off; he died, and the concern came into the hands of Kenton, who restored the Magpie to its former position, and so increased the bottled-beer business, that in 1765 he gave up the tavern and removed to more commodious quarters which he built in the Minories. His monogram is still to be seen over the door. Here he soon developed an extensive wine trade, and having received excellent advice as to investments from Mr. Harley, then alderman of Portsoken Ward, he eventually realized between a quarter and half a million of money. He was a large benefactor to various charities and to the Vintners’ Company, of which he had been master in 1776. An annual dinner in their hall takes place to his memory, the funds being provided under his will. Members of the company also attend an annual sermon in memory of his benefactions at Stepney Church, where he was buried. The wine business is still carried on at the house built by him in the Minories, and here the Magpie sign has found a fitting home. The stone Crown has unfortunately crumbled to pieces.

A few sculptured signs are classed together, because, though they have nothing special in common, they cannot well be fitted in elsewhere. I shall begin with a stone bas-relief of an Anchor, which has found its way into the Guildhall Museum, where it is described as having been presented by the executors of James Bare. It has on it the initials b h e and the date 1669; no record has been kept of its original position. The anchor—the emblem of true faith—is associated with St. Clement, who, according to tradition, was cast into the sea with an anchor round his neck, by order of the Emperor Trajan, on account of his firm adherence to Christianity. An anchor forms the vane of the church of St. Clement Danes, Strand; it also appears on various parts of the church, and on the tablets which show the boundaries of the parish—in fact, the parish marks, one or two of which are as old as the seventeenth century. A specimen on the house numbered 11 on the west side of New Square, Lincoln’s Inn, is dated 1693.