Review
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Money’s hidden meanings in a contactless age

The Bank of England Museum reveals the symbolism, morality and power woven into the history of money

Susan is a writer specialising in visual arts and contributes to Art Quarterly, The Tablet, Church Times and Discover Britain.

Gold bars stacked in the Bank of England vault.
The Bank of England vaults.
Bank of England.

Our era of contactless payments obscures the symbolism once lavished on money. But the rich history of meaning, morality and power, layered into everyday transactions, is uncovered at an exhibition at the Bank of England Museum 

Building the Bank celebrates 100 years of the current Bank of England building, on the site of Sir John Soane’s original structure, completed in 1827. Surveying a century makes past practices seem quaint: until 1973 the institution was guarded by the Bank Piquet military guard. A 1961 photo shows 12 Guardsmen with bearskin hats and bayonets, together with a drummer or piper, a sergeant and an officer, marching into the Threadneedle Streer entrance. Even now, when the wealth of most people in developed countries is contained in data warehouses, 400,000 gold bars are held in vaults deep beneath the Bank. 

Faiths have grappled with money’s impact for millennia. Christianity’s relationship with money is tinged with unease, as St Paul’s oft misquoted letter to Timothy illustrates: “For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.” Personally, the immobilising feeling of envy, particularly if it is towards friends, does feel exactly like being pierced with blinding toxicity. 

Contrastingly, in Hinduism pursuing wealth is one of four pillars of faith, called Artha. In Hinduism attempting to attain material wealth is part of attempting to attain salvation. 

Herbert Baker, architect of the Bank of England, embodies moral ambiguity around faith and money. Buried in Westminster Abbey, and architect of Church House next door, Baker established his reputation working for Cecil Rhodes, prime minister of the Cape Colony 1890- 96. Vicar’s son Rhodes is now seen as paving the way for apartheid in southern Africa, and imposing an economically exploitive, racist, and imperialist system on the region. Baker also worked with better- known Edwin Lutyens on government buildings in New Delhi from 1912, declaring of the British Raj’s new seat of power “it must not be Indian, nor English, nor Roman, but it must be Imperial”. 

After World War One, Soane’s bank was too small to house the increased staff numbers needed to service the ballooning national debt and financial complexity of the Roaring Twenties. Bordered by major roads at the heart of the City of London, the institution’s footprint could not expand, so Herbert created a design incorporating some of Soane’s classical aspects, but with floors at a greater depth and height than its processor.  

From grand gestures to tiny details, classical mythology is a key element of the Bank’s design. Sculptor Charles Wheeler modelled doorknobs showing the face of Mercury. Mercury is the patron deity of finance and communication. Tiles for an officials’ lunchroom show a caduceus, with two bright blue snakes, tails entwined, framing Mercury’s face. Caducei are the symbol of commerce, representing reciprocity and mutually beneficial transactions.  

Forty caryatids, the classical female form used in place of a pillar in Greek architecture, were salvaged from Soane’s building and reused. Some caryatids are in the area where old banknotes can be exchanged, besides the museum, now the only part of the Bank open to the public.  

Outside, on the dome at the northwest corner of the bank, a gilt bronze statue of Ariel, named after the spirit of the air in The Tempest, represents “the dynamic spirit of the Bank which carries Credit and Trust over the wide world.” 

The image of banks as depositories of trust and positive relationships took a pasting worldwide during the 2008 Credit Crisis and lean years that followed. But in 2015 former Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby, argues that banking services are a key part of functioning communities, and banks should be able to put people before profit. “At the heart of both these expectations is the value of the person as sacred, and all other things as secondary to human dignity. It is a value rooted in many faiths and especially in our Judaeo-Christian tradition. Of course profits have to be made, but they need to be measured not only in terms of their absolute return on capital employed, but also in terms of the human cost of achieving that return. 

“Large institutions with adequate balance sheets working to maximise returns from those who can most afford it do not produce a sustainable society in the long term. Such an approach is narrow-minded and short-termist, because sustainable societies are essential to the large companies within them. It is also an immoral approach.” 

Mosaics created by Boris Anrep idealise the Bank’ of England’s sunnier intentions towards the wider community. Anrep also designed mosaics for Westminster Cathedral, Tate Britain and the National Gallery. For the Bank, a tiny coin from the reign of Henry VIII known as the George Noble, the first time St George and the dragon appeared on English coinage, was magnified into a roundel showing the galloping saint, visor up, lancing the prostate dragon at the base. The George Noble was one of 50 designs, based on advances in coinage, gracing the Bank’s corridors.  

At the main entrance, a mosaic showing a pillar, representing the Bank, is guarded by two lions, referencing the sculpture from Mycenae. The Bank’s global role, and place at the centre of the then British Empire is shown by the constellations of the Plough and Southern Cross, representing the southern and northern hemispheres. 

An image of the Empire Clock Baker made for the Bank, - now disassembled - shows an ornate dial, marked in 24 sections, with the sun representing India and an anchor symbolising the port cities of Singapore and Hong Kong. 

In 1946 the Bank of England was nationalised, formalising its role as a public institution, operating in a post war decolonialising world, totally different to the one its building had been designed for just 20 years before. 

Systems and symbols around money mutate with the times. Money’s intangibility in our time of app and tap payment, makes its power less distinct than in the days of gold sovereigns. But we fool ourselves if we say money is unimportant, because all of history says otherwise. 

  

 

Building the Bank, Bank of England Museum, until 2026

Review
Culture
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Holidays/vacations
5 min read

Race across the world: you can go fast and go far

Forget the tight travel connections; it’s the human ones that enthral us.

Lauren Westwood works in faith engagement communications for The Salvation Army.

Contestants in Race Across the world stand in front of neon-lit Chinese street scene
Ready to race.
BBC.

After years of peer pressure, my husband and I have joined the bandwagon and become Race Across the World evangelists. The BBC series, currently in its fifth season, follows five competing duos on an expedition between far-flung locations with limited resources and no forward planning.  

Viewers love the show wherever they are in the world. In America, The Amazing Race, which has a similar format, is now on its 38th series. 

‘No flights, no phones,’ boast the rules – but Race Across the World is a far cry from retreating to simpler times before smart devices and online banking, nor does it shy away from the complexities of modern life. Though there is a cash prize, the format of Race Across the World prioritises connection over competition. Each episode is a picture of messy, frantic humanity and examines how we cope in an environment where all we really have is each other.  

The challenge is real. In the current series, the couples trek across China, Nepal and India, the start and end checkpoints spanning more than 14,000km. This cohort is an eclectic mix: two sets of slightly estranged siblings, teenage sweethearts from Wales, former spouses and a mother and son. Their vulnerabilities, as well as their triumphs, take prominence. In their conversation and in confessional, each person demonstrates a remarkable willingness to face the hard stuff of life with resilience, tenacity and enough convivial spirit to please the production team. 

This emotional depth maps the physical and logistical demands of the race, as the viewer follows the pairs’ fast-paced journeys, stopping occasionally to enjoy some wonderful view amid countless train stations and overnight busses. 

My sympathy derives from a belief that I would fare horrendously as a contestant – I think my excellently organised, exceedingly patient husband would flat-out refuse to compete with me. But the wider response to Race Across the World is one of empathy. Unlike similar shows, we are not called to blindly favour for the frontrunner, but to enjoy spending time with and bearing the burdens of all. We feel every frustration of the missed shuttle that just departed. When the ferry disembarks late due to poor weather, our response is not to scoff, but to share, in some small way, their lament. As their successes and failures are magnified, so is our compassion, willing them not to get lost in comparison’s snare but to keep moving forward. 

Race Across the World exhibits the reality of community, speaks to the ache of life’s unpredictable nature, and extends grace for struggling humanity. We learn, alongside those racing, that the point is not always to fix our frustrations, but in being able to sit with them, to acknowledge disappointment rather than dismiss it, and to allow setbacks to spur us onto the next step. Sometimes, things get hard and we acutely feel that a situation is beyond our control. What have we then? Still, each other. Still, communion. Still, God. 

Most of the time, the competitors’ issue does not disappear; they arrive at the checkpoint 24 hours late, they board the wrong train, the persistent typhoon ruins their chance of first place. But this hardship renews their strength and determination, promoting the notion that while suffering is never easy, it somehow shapes us. We endure and, in that endurance, we are refined and strengthened in ways we never thought possible. In the testing of our own endurance (or lack of), it turns out that some things actually are immovable. 

This resilience permeates to the heart of who we are, forming us into people who can carry disappointment and hope simultaneously. It is an unwavering, defiant hope that finds us and never leaves us stranded. From this new position, fresh possibilities arise out of a deeper satisfaction, a greater victory, than found in being first place. This hope is rooted in something deeper, and it cries from the other side of difficulty: ‘Here I am, not lost.’ 

In his poem, Vow, Roger McGough reminds us that when, 

Things seem to go from bad to worse,  

They also go from bad to better …  

Trains run on time,   

Hurricanes run out of breath, floods subside,   

And toast lands jam-side-up.’ 

It speaks to how the relatively small disappointments help us cope with the bigger stuff of life, the stuff we feel we will not emerge from. In the gritty, heavy, unfair stuff of life, we appreciate the weight of the enduring hope we possess, manifested in the belief that things not only can, but will go from bad to better. This is not a fragile optimism, but a fortitude and faith that sees the world as it is yet maintains that good and better is possible. 

In the same way, Race Across the World urges us to consider what we can handle – not in our own strength, but in community, in reliance on another. Though our complex, strained humanity may attempt to deter us, life’s hardships are eased when shared, whether on a televised journey or from our sofas. We are strengthened in, by and through devoted community. In keeping pace with another – slowing down or rushing to keep up – we are mutually inconvenienced, and that is a source of beautiful fellowship. In letting go of the things that enslave us to self – ambition, insecurity, pride – we encounter the gift of each other, and give life to love that serves. We commit to community; we choose connection over competition. 

The saying goes, ‘If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.’  In Race Across the World, significant effort is understandably made by competitors to go fast and to go far, to place first and take home the cash prize. But the viewer’s delight is not so much in seeing the winning duo cross the finish line, as in witnessing the journey of two muddling through, sharing the load, bearing burdens and multiplying joys. 

In our lives, too, the road can be unpredictable, full of detours, missed buses and, yes, a few painfully overpriced cabs. Yet it is in the community of fellow travellers we learn the worth of endurance, the refining possibility of suffering, and the hope that is cultivated in its place. 

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