Signboards were known to both Greeks and Romans. There are allusions to them in classic writers; and specimens have been found at Pompeii and Herculaneum, sometimes painted, but oftener carved. A bush was the sign of many taverns so late as the reign of James I., and the antiquity of that sign may be inferred from the analogy of our proverb, 'Good wine needs no bush,' to the Latin 'Vino vendibili suspensâ hederâ non opus est.' During the illiterate middle ages every trade had its emblem, some of which have survived to our day, as the chemist's pestle and mortar, the pawnbroker's three balls, and the barber's pole, with in Scotland (as on the Continent) the brazen basin, which recalls Don Quixote. Besides these trade emblems, every individual trader might have his own special device: Southey's father, a Bristol linen-draper, for his chose a hare. The old printers' emblems, described in Vol. II. p. 303, were akin hereto, as to-day are trade marks. During the 16th and 17th centuries huge painted signs came greatly into vogue. They were suspended either from projecting metal-work, from a post or an obelisk, or from a sort of miniature triumphal archway, and sometimes cost great sums—e.g. £1057 for the 'White Hart' at Scole in Norfolk, erected in 1655. These creaking and ponderous signboards proved a source of annoyance, sometimes of positive danger, as when in 1718 one in Bride's Lane, Fleet Street, dragged down a house front, and killed in its fall four persons. So in 1762-70, under act of parliament, the London signboards were either wholly removed or at least affixed to the fronts of the houses; and this example was gradually followed throughout the kingdom, though here and there signposts linger, or have been restored—even in London. One of the oldest and most interesting signs still existing is the 'Red Lion' at Martlesham, Suffolk, for it was the figurehead of one of the Dutch fleet defeated off Southwold in 1672; but the history even of vanished signboards has no slight interest. A good many signboards have been painted by great artists, Holbein, Correggio, Paul Potter, Hogarth, Wilson, Morland, David Cox, 'Old' Crome, Sam Bough, and Sir J. E. Millais (some of which are still extant); and nearly every sign had its curious origin, hard though it may be to come at. Thus, there were the religious signs ('Salutation,' 'Lamb and Flag,' &c.), historical signs (as the 'Royal Oak' and 'Marquis of Granby'), heraldic (coats of arms, crests, and badges), humorous (as the 'Good Woman,' without a head), and a host of others. Not the least curious feature about old signs is the havoc played on them by 'folk-etymologies,' which have, for instance, corrupted the 'Bacchanals' into 'Bag o' nails,' 'Boulogne Mouth' (i.e. the entrance to Boulogne harbour) into 'Bull and Mouth,' the 'Catherine Wheel' into 'Cat and Wheel,' and, more dubiously, 'Caton fidèle' (a faithful governor of Calais) into 'Cat and Fiddle,' 'God encompasseth' into 'Goat and Compasses,' and 'Piga wassail' (A.S., 'Virgin, hail,' or 'a lass and a glass') into 'Pig and Whistle.'
See Larwood and Hotten's History of Signboards (1866), Miller-Christy's Trade-signs of Essex (1887), and F. G. H. Price's Signs of Old Lombard Street (1887).