The earliest monograms, serving as regal endorsements on coins in ancient Greece, epitomise the art of personalization.
Why do monogrammed pieces of jewellery captivate us so profoundly? Perhaps dale Carnegie offers insight. In his perennial bestseller, "How to win friends and influence people" (1936), he observed, “remember that a person’s name is to that person the sweetest and most important sound in any language.”
Left: This 4th century ring bears the chi-rho monogram to indicate that its wearer was a Christian. Gold ring with raised octagonal bezel, The British Museum.
Right : Cross monogram ring spelling "IOANIS" or John, made in the 6th-7th century. The Victoria & Albert Museum.
Prior to exploring the history, let us consider the etymology, which may serve as a useful hint for your next crossword puzzle. The term 'monogram' merges the Greek word 'monos' (meaning 'one', 'sole') with 'gamma' ('letter'). A true monogram is not merely a collection of initials but a unique design. A composition solely of initials is more accurately termed a cipher. Store this trivia; we shall examine both ciphers and monograms, including initial jewellery and nameplates.
History indeed corroborates dale Carnegie’s assertion: we are all fond of the letters constituting our names.
Two sides of a coin: on the left is the monogram of Charlemagne and right, the monogram of Grimoald III after his territory was conquered by Charlemagne’s army, 792-806. The British Museum.
Owing to the Greeks’ contribution to the etymology, it is perhaps unsurprising that the journey takes us back to ancient Greece. Here, the earliest monograms originated as regal signatures on coins, serving as symbols of authentication and indicators of their minting origins.
It was not until the 8th century that the purpose of monograms evolved beyond mere monetary markers. This change was spearheaded by Charlemagne, a medieval emperor with ambitions to unify Europe under his dominion. Recognizing that his monogram transcended linguistic barriers, Charlemagne employed it as a symbol of his rule across the continent.
Possibly the most famous craftsman monogram is this by printer maker Albrecht Dürer, which he began to use in 1497. Detail from lot of two prints by Albrecht Dürer, Cobbs Auctioneers.
In the symbolically charged milieu of medieval Europe, monograms assumed a new role as emblems of ownership. This era witnessed the proliferation of guilds, established to regulate specific trades, governed by stringent rules and penalties for noncompliance. Monograms thus became essential for craftsmen to signify their work and guild affiliation. However, their use was not confined to the artisan class; even peasants employed monograms, primarily for pragmatic reasons. During communal laundry days, embroidered monograms facilitated the identification of personal clothing amidst the collective wash.
Anne Boleyn, second wife of King Henry VIII wearing her initial necklace, c.1550 Hever Castle.
Artist Hans Holbein also designed a pendant for Anne with an intertwined ‘H’ and ‘A.’ detail from 18th century miniature, Loseley House.
Monogrammed jewellery played a pivotal role in 15th and 16th-century England, a period dominated by the Tudors, including henry viii, and the Elizabethan era under Elizabeth I. Guided by the conviction of divine anointment, these monarchs adhered to the belief in the "great chain of being," where opulent attire was a requisite of their status. Such was the seriousness of this sartorial duty that jane Seymour, the third wife of henry viii, once dismissed a potential lady-in-waiting for the insufficient size of the pearls on her girdle.
Note the ‘H’ on the chain. Detail from Henry VIII by Hans Holbein the Younger (who designed many jewellery pieces for the King), c.1530
Queen Elizabeth I as a teenager wearing what is believed to be an ‘A’ pendant belonging to her late mother, Anne Boleyn. detail from “The Family of Henry VIII,” c. 1545.
The Tudors held a particular fondness for jewellery featuring their initials, a choice that epitomised both opulence and personal distinction. Among the most emblematic pieces from this era is the 'b' necklace associated with Anne Boleyn. Although specific details of this piece, including the pendant itself, have been obscured by history, it is widely believed that her father, Thomas Boleyn, bestowed it upon her. The sustained popularity of replicas of this necklace, as evidenced by their sales in UK museum shops, attests to the design's lasting appeal.
Not to be surpassed, the lavishly adorned henry viii is reputed to have possessed a comparable brooch emblazoned with his initials. This accessory was characteristic of his court, which was renowned for its fashion of gold ear picks and toothpicks.
Anne, mistress of Francis I, wearing an initial ‘A’ pendant with a pearl drop. Anne de Pisseleu, Duchesse d’Etampes attributed to Corneille de Lyon, c. 1535-40.
The ‘K’ on the necklace possibly stand for “Katherine” of Aragon (first wife of Henry VIII) or some historians think the portrait is of Mary Rose Tudor (youngest sister of Henry VIII) in which case the ‘K’ would stand for “Karolus” for Charles, the future Holy Roman Emperor to whom she was betrothed by Michel Sittow, c. 1514.
Recall the distinction between a monogram, defined as a motif made by overlapping or combining two or more letters to form one symbol, and a cypher, comprising a single letter. Commencing in the Tudor era (1485-1603), each monarch established a royal cypher as a means of symbolically asserting their authority. A royal cypher is identifiable by the remarkable crown positioned above the initials. The Russian monarchs excelled in creating particularly elaborate ciphers. For further exploration, peruse the ciphers of the British royal family.
This is the cypher for Empress Maria Fedorovna (Empress of Russia from 1881-1894). These were known as “Maids of Honor pins” and were wore on the left shoulder. This tradition began in the early 18th century as part of Peter the Great’s efforts to westernize the court. Hillwood Museum.
This cipher pin consists of the Russian letters of the last two Empresses, Maria Fedorovna and Alexandra Fedorovna, 1907. Hillwood Museum.
Monograms and cyphers, traditionally reserved for royalty and governmental use, gained widespread popularity among the emerging affluent classes during the economic expansion of the 18th and 19th centuries. This newfound wealth and social aspiration led to a trend of embellishing personal and household items with monograms. The upper echelons of Victorian society, perceiving monograms as the pinnacle of prestige, adorned nearly everything with them.
In Appleton’s’ journal, a prominent 19th-century magazine, the writer a. Steel Penn expressed concern over this trend. He lamented, "from seals and rings, jewellery and watches, to cards and note-paper, the use of monograms has extended to items such as dog clothes and shirt collars. It appears there is scarcely any surface left unmarked by them, unless one considers tattooing them upon the forehead."
Maria Teresa de Silva wearing a monogram ‘M’ bracelet on her wrist. The White Duchess by Francisco Goya, 1795
Brooch monogrammed with ‘A’ and ‘L.’ It has a compartment on the reverse containing a lock of hair. It was given to Queen Victoria on her birthday from her daughter Princess Alice and son-in-law Louis of Hesse, 1873 made by Castellani, The Victoria and Albert Museum.
A NEW KIND of personalized jewellery entered the scene in the second half of the twentieth century: the nameplate. It began as a New York jewellery phenomenon in the 1970s (or even earlier). The jewellery was a way for those in Black and Latinx communities to display their non-Anglican names with pride.
Monogram, cipher, initial, or nameplate? The world of personalization offers endless possibilities. However, for those of us who cherish history, tracing the origins of an item through such details is particularly captivating. A recent delve into the history of a monogrammed rock crystal heart led us to discover Fairbairn's Book of Crests. Within its pages, we uncovered that the Farrier family crest features a winged horseshoe—a nod to the profession of a farrier, who is skilled in fitting horseshoes. Intriguingly, the Farrier family welcomed a son named George Henry in 1847. Although our locket might not have belonged to this George, the journey of uncovering these monograms is precisely why we treasure them.