The signal for this one was different from the thin, erratic zeep of the Elizabethan jettons. This was a solid, high-tone “BRRRR!”—the unmistakable resonance of thick, high-quality brass. It sat deep, suggesting it had been there since the mid-to-late Victorian era. When it emerged, the front was obscured, but the reverse carried a clear, proud stamp in the metal: GRESHAM CLUB.
A Hidden Identity
This smooth face suggests it was originally a fabric-covered button. In the mid-1800s, high-end liveries often used buttons where silk or velvet was crimped over a metal shell to match the wearer’s coat. While the fabric has long since succumbed to the Wiltshire soil, the brass backplate remains as a “designer label,” proving this wasn’t just any button, but a piece of bespoke finery from one of London’s most exclusive merchant clubs. One can easily imagine that the now-vanished fabric front was once intricately embroidered with a “Golden Grasshopper”—the famous heraldic crest of Sir Thomas Gresham. This symbol would have been the ultimate mark of belonging for any member or servant.— the Gresham Club was founded in 1843 for the merchants and bankers of the City of London. To have the club’s name struck into the back of the button indicates a high-end, bespoke garment, likely part of a uniform provided by the club for its staff or for members’ personal servants.
Livery or Member?
While we might imagine a wealthy banker losing a button while out on a stroll, these inscribed buttons were most often part of a livery uniform. It is highly probable that a footman or coachman, in the service of a Gresham member staying at a local manor, lost this while walking the old track toward the ruins of Clarendon Palace, or the nearby Green Dragon pub. (Famously mentioned in Martin Chuzzlewit as the “Blue Dragon” by Charles Dickens) A well-known coaching inn, it would have been the natural “local” for visiting staff. While the “City” gentleman was being hosted in a nearby estate, his footman was likely heading for the Dragon’s taproom, perhaps snagging his coat on a stray branch along the trackway and leaving this gilded fragment of London history behind.
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