The focus on this week’s #MuseumMonday is a little different to the usual museums I visit. Some of you may know that I am a numismatist (as well as a philatelist), collecting currency that features amphibians and reptiles. I know, who saw that one coming? If you want to learn more, you can read this article I wrote for Coin News last year. So what is this interesting place that I intend to walk us through? The Museum on the Mound is a unique attraction in the heart of Edinburgh, located in the historic headquarters of the Bank of Scotland at the top of the Royal Mile. Housed in an impressive neoclassical building overlooking Princes Street Gardens, the museum explores the story of money, banking, and economics in Scotland and beyond (pretty fitting giving the former use of the building). Its striking architecture hints at the wealth of history inside and provides some great views of the city. Inside, the museum offers engaging displays that trace how money has shaped society, from early trade and coinage to modern banking and financial innovation. Visitors can see historic banknotes, rare coins, and intriguing objects such as one of the world’s oldest surviving banknotes, alongside interactive exhibits that explain complex financial ideas in accessible ways. I should say early on that admission is free and you can find a mix of local and global perspectives within.

After a short corridor introducing the Museum, you enter the first real gallery which is the Tale of Two Banks. This contains a compelling narrative about how two of Britain’s most recognisable banking institutions (Lloyds Bank and the Bank of Scotland) emerged, grew, and eventually became part of the same banking group despite their very different origins. The exhibition invites visitors to consider not just the dates and milestones, but the contrasting economic, political and cultural circumstances that shaped the development of banking across Britain from the late seventeenth century onwards. The gallery anchors its narrative in the local context of Edinburgh while exploring broader themes in British financial history. The story begins with the Bank of Scotland, established by an Act of the old Scottish Parliament on 17 July 1695 in response to pressing economic needs in Scotland. At that time, credit was scarce, barter systems were still widespread, and coins were in short supply. Therefore, the establishment of a public bank was designed to support commerce, trade and economic stability. As it was given the right to issue its own banknotes (a practice it would maintain for more than three centuries), the Bank of Scotland quickly became a pillar of Scottish economic life and a crucial driver in the early adoption of paper money in Europe. Its founders and early directors sought to help finance trade, provide loans to merchants and landowners, and stimulate domestic economic growth at a time when the wider British financial infrastructure was still in its infancy.

In contrast, Lloyds Bank (founded in 1765 in Birmingham as Taylors & Lloyds by Sampson Lloyd and John Taylor) emerged in the rapidly industrialising heart of England. The bank was established to meet the needs of a very different economic environment: burgeoning industrial commerce, expanding trade networks, and growing urban populations. Over the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Lloyds grew through a series of strategic mergers and acquisitions, extending its reach beyond its Midland origins and cementing its position as one of the major commercial banks serving businesses and individuals across England, and later throughout Britain. This expansion included the acquisition of numerous smaller banks, fortifying Lloyds’ presence and turning it into a household name on the British high street. Visitors to the Tale of Two Banks gallery thus encounter two stories that initially seem quite distinct. One of a national bank shaped by Scottish economic needs and institutions, and one of a commercial bank rooted in English entrepreneurial ferment and consolidation. Yet even in these early centuries, the two banks’ trajectories reflect broader economic forces at work across Britain, including urbanisation, technological innovation, increasing literacy and financial sophistication among the public, and the gradual extension of banking services beyond elite merchants to a much wider segment of society.

The gallery highlights how each institution adapted to the changing demands of modern economic life. For the Bank of Scotland, this included pioneering the use of paper banknotes, financing infrastructure projects, and expanding its branch network across Scotland. Its role in issuing banknotes, for example, is a reminder that Scotland’s banking history has always been distinctive within the UK, with multiple banks historically authorised to issue currency, a practice unique to the Scottish system. Lloyds Bank, meanwhile, became synonymous with growth through acquisition and innovation, playing a significant role in the expansion of banking services and retail finance in England and beyond. Its adoption and development of new financial services and technologies over the centuries reflected broader shifts in the British economy and society. As the gallery traces events into the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, it also touches on how these institutions responded to economic shocks and opportunities. The nineteenth century was a period of intense competition among banks, with frequent mergers and failures shaping the landscape of British financial services. Both the Bank of Scotland and Lloyds navigated these pressures through consolidation, strategic partnerships, and adaptation to new markets. In the twentieth century, these patterns accelerated, with Lloyds merging with TSB in the 1990s and later acquiring significant interests in Scottish banking, while the Bank of Scotland itself joined forces with Halifax in 2001 to form HBOS, a major financial group in its own right.

Embedded within the Tale of Two Banks narrative are also personal stories (of bankers, merchants, customers and clerks) that bring humanity to what might otherwise be abstract economic history. Gallery exhibits feature original documents, historic banknotes, early ledgers, and artefacts that reflect the lived experience of banking. These also include copies of contracts, advertisements, tools of the trade, and even objects that reveal how banking intersected with everyday life. This human focus allows visitors not only to understand when events happened, but how these institutions affected the communities they served and the people who worked within their walls. We all take banks for granted today but it is interesting to learn more about these institutions were established and became part of our everyday life. By juxtaposing the stories of two banks born in very different times and places, the gallery encourages reflection on continuity and change: how the basic needs for credit, security, savings and economic trust have remained constant even as technologies, markets and social structures have evolved.

A dramatic turning point in the story came with the financial crisis of 2007–2008. This global economic shock upended assumptions about financial stability and led to state intervention and restructuring across the banking sector. In the case of HBOS (and, by extension, the Bank of Scotland) the crisis precipitated its acquisition by Lloyds TSB in 2009, creating the Lloyds Banking Group that today encompasses both institutions’ legacies. What had once been separate British banking traditions, one from Scotland’s financial heartland, the other from the industrial Midlands, were now housed under a single corporate roof. Ultimately, the Tale of Two Banks offers more than a recounting of institutional milestones. It presents a layered story of innovation and adaptation, of economic integration and transformation, and of the ways financial institutions shape (and are shaped by) the societies they serve. By telling the histories of Lloyds Bank and the Bank of Scotland together, the exhibition illuminates the forces that have forged the modern British banking landscape, inviting visitors to ponder both the past and the future of money, credit and commerce.

You may be wondering why there is a building on this mound in the first place. The next gallery (and one that more logically could have come first) is The Bank on the Mound. The commanding sandstone edifice is now one of the city’s most familiar landmarks. Its position at the terminus of the artificial slope connecting the Old Town and New Town gives it an almost ceremonial presence in the city skyline. The building’s story begins in the late eighteenth century, when the Bank of Scotland recognised that its expanding operations needed a purpose-built headquarters to match its growing stature and ambition. Before the current building existed, the Bank of Scotland had occupied various premises in Edinburgh’s Old Town, including what was known as Old Bank Close off the Lawnmarket. By the late 1700s those facilities were increasingly cramped and inadequate for a bank whose influence and customer base were expanding rapidly. In 1796, during the bank’s 100th annual general meeting, directors resolved to commission a new headquarters, a grand architectural statement befitting the institution’s senior role in Scottish commerce and finance. After surveying possible sites, they acquired land at the top of The Mound from the Edinburgh Town Council. This elevated position was both symbolic and practical, placing the bank physically above the bustle of the medieval Old Town and visually linking it with the New Town’s Enlightenment planning.

Construction of the new head office was entrusted to architects Robert Reid and Richard Crichton, both former pupils of the celebrated Scottish architect Robert Adam. Work began in 1802 and was substantially completed by 1806 at a reported cost of around £43,000, a substantial sum at the time. The original design was rooted in Palladian and early Georgian classical traditions, a sober yet dignified façade articulated with columns and pediments, crowned by a low-profile dome that gave the building a distinctive silhouette against the Edinburgh skyline. Its placement on a steep slope meant that the structure also featured extensive basement areas, portions of which later became part of today’s museum spaces. Despite its architectural sophistication, the building’s exterior was not universally admired in its early decades. Some critics felt the original elevation, particularly when viewed from the developing New Town to the north, lacked the visual impact expected of such a prominent public edifice. In the mid-nineteenth century, as Edinburgh’s economy boomed and tastes in architecture evolved toward more ornate historicist styles, the Bank of Scotland embarked on a major programme of expansion and embellishment.

In 1862 the bank commissioned David Bryce, one of Scotland’s leading Victorian architects, to redesign and enlarge the headquarters. Bryce was renowned for his skill in Baroque Revival and Scottish Baronial styles, and his intervention transformed the building’s character. He added new wings to either side of the main block, each topped with domes that echoed and amplified the original central dome’s presence. The façade was enlivened with more elaborate ornamentation, and the interior was substantially rebuilt to create a larger, more impressive banking hall and offices to accommodate the bank’s growing staff. The resulting composition (a rich Baroque ruin of symmetry, sculpture and grandeur) is the building that dominates The Mound today. The central dome and flanking towered wings give it remarkable civic presence, visible from both Princes Street to the north and the Royal Mile to the south. Throughout the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the head office continued to grow and evolve. As the Bank of Scotland extended its branch network across the country and its business activities diversified, the interior spaces were repeatedly adapted to meet new technological and organisational needs. Remodellings in the twentieth century (notably in 1929 and again in the 1980s) introduced modern office facilities while respecting Bryce’s architectural framework.

By the early twenty-first century, comprehensive renovations were undertaken between 2004 and 2006 to equip the building for the digital age: upgraded infrastructure, new communication systems, and the sensitive restoration of heritage interiors such as the double-height banking hall were all part of this programme. These works balanced the demands of a working headquarters with the conservation of a Category A-listed historic building, a status recognising its national architectural and historic significance. The building’s role as a corporate headquarters and, later, as a symbol of the Bank of Scotland’s long history, took on new layers of meaning in the early 2000s following mergers and the financial crash. Parallel to its corporate functions, the building also became a public cultural space. What is now the Museum on the Mound began modestly in 1987 as a small museum display within the bank’s extensive basement areas. Initially accessible by appointment only, these early displays drew on the bank’s own historic artefacts, from early Scottish banknotes to banking ledgers and objects illustrating the evolution of money and commerce. In 2006, on the bicentenary of the building’s completion, the museum was expanded and formally opened in its current multi-room format, offering visitors a chance to explore not just the history of money and banking but also the story of the building itself and its place in Edinburgh’s development.

The next gallery is called Money Matters, which offers a fascinating journey through the long, winding history of money. This traces how societies have defined, used and valued currency from ancient times up to the present day. At its core, this gallery is not just about the coins and banknotes we recognise today, but about the very concept of money: what it is, why we need it, and how it has taken many different shapes in different cultures and eras. The gallery’s displays demonstrate that money has been far more varied than the metal coins and paper notes familiar to most visitors, at different times and places shells, tea, feathers and other goods have all served as currency, reflecting both practical needs and cultural values. The idea of money as a medium of exchange originated because early human societies needed a way to trade goods and services without relying solely on direct barter. In barter systems, one person might need something the other did not have to offer at the same time, a limitation that made exchanging goods like grain for pottery or livestock challenging. Over thousands of years, communities developed various items that were widely accepted as having value in their own right and could act as a stand-in for goods being traded. In parts of Africa, Asia and Oceania, cowrie shells became one such form of money, their small, recognisable shape and relative scarcity in certain areas made them suitable for use in a wide range of transactions, from everyday purchases to ceremonial exchanges. These shells also held cultural significance in many societies, which added to their acceptance as a reliable store of value.

In other regions, natural commodities became widely used as money. For example, tea was not only a vital part of daily life in parts of China and later Europe but also functioned as a form of currency itself in some trade networks. Tea bricks, which were compressed cakes of tea leaves, could be carried long distances and exchanged for goods. Their value was tied both to the labour involved in producing them and to their role as a cherished consumable. In some cases, commodities like cocoa beans in pre-colonial Mesoamerica or feathers from birds in the Solomon Islands (so-called tevau feathers) also served as units of exchange, demonstrating that money need not be metal or paper to fulfil its purpose. As societies grew more complex, the limitations of commodity money became increasingly apparent. Carrying around heavy bundles of tea bricks or long strings of feather currency was impractical for larger transactions, and the intrinsic value of these items could vary with harvests or regional tastes. The next major innovation in the evolution of money was the development of metal coinage. Early coins, first emerging around 2,600–2,700 years ago in places like Lydia in western Asia Minor (modern-day Turkey), were typically made of electrum (a naturally occurring alloy of gold and silver) and stamped with marks indicating their weight and purity. These early coins solved many of the problems of earlier forms of currency: they were durable, portable and had a recognisable, standardised value that traders could trust.

The Money Matters gallery displays examples of such early coins, alongside British and Scottish coinage that spans many centuries. This allows visitors to see how designs, materials and minting techniques changed over time. Medieval Scottish pennies, for example, often bore the portrait or symbols of the reigning monarch, linking the authority of the state with the value of the currency itself, a theme that would become central in the later history of money as national governments took on formal responsibility for issuing currency. Meanwhile, Roman coins and those of other great empires illustrate how coinage helped facilitate trade across vast territories and became tools of political propaganda as much as economic utility. Over time, as commerce expanded further, economies increasingly required even more efficient forms of money. Carrying large quantities of coins for substantial transactions proved cumbersome, especially as trade networks stretched across continents. Paper money began to emerge as a solution. This was lighter and easier to transport, notes could represent a specific value backed by precious metals or the credit of a sovereign or bank. While the earliest paper money is generally traced to China in the Tang and Song dynasties long before its adoption in Europe, the Money Matters gallery focuses mainly on British and Scottish examples (including historic Scottish banknotes dating back to the early 18th century onwards) to show how notes evolved in design, security and usage.

The gallery also touches on the development of banking systems that supported this evolution. As paper money became more common, banks played a crucial role in issuing and managing currency. The Bank of Scotland (whose history is central to the larger museum) has had the right to issue its own banknotes since the early 18th century, a practice that continues today and which makes Scottish banknotes some of the most varied and culturally distinct in the United Kingdom. This historical context helps ground the abstract concept of currency in the very real institutions that shaped how money functions in modern society. One of the Money Matters gallery’s most striking displays is not just historic objects but the chance to see £1 million in banknotes, giving a tangible sense of what high denominations physically look like even though most people today interact with such sums digitally or abstractly through accounts and electronic transfers. This exhibit bridges the gap between the physicality of currency (coins you can hold, notes you can stack) and the increasingly digital nature of money in contemporary economies.

Beyond looking at forms of money themselves, the gallery encourages visitors to think about what makes something money in the first place. Useful features typically include acceptability (others agree to take it in exchange for goods or services), durability (it lasts through repeated use), divisibility (it can represent different values), and recognisability (people trust its value). These principles help explain why seemingly unlikely items like shells or tea once functioned as currency in some contexts, and why modern coins and banknotes carry complex designs and security features to maintain trust. Money Matters is deliberately interactive. Alongside displays of artefacts, there are activities like cracking a safe (which can be seen to the right in the image above) or handling replicas that bring the story of currency to life. These experiences make the history of money not just something to read about but something to explore and contemplate in relation to everyday life. The gallery’s inclusion of unusual historical currencies broadens visitors’ understanding of how diverse human creativity has been in solving the economic challenges of trade and value. Ultimately, the Money Matters gallery offers much more than a catalogue of coins and banknotes. It invites visitors to understand money as a human invention that has evolved continually to meet the changing needs of societies. From shells and tea used as early money, through the standardised metal coinage of the ancient world, to the complex paper and digital forms of today, the story of money is deeply interwoven with the story of human civilisation itself.

Continuing on through the Museum, you come to the Buying Security – Building Societies gallery which explores one of the most powerful ideas in modern British social history: the belief that owning a home represents stability, independence and security. Through objects, stories and interpretation, the gallery charts the rise of building societies in Victorian Britain and examines how, over the past century and more, homeownership has been promoted as both a personal aspiration and a social ideal. In doing so, it reveals how financial institutions helped to shape not only housing markets, but also everyday hopes, identities and ideas of success. The origins of building societies lie in the rapid social and economic changes of the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. As Britain industrialised, towns and cities expanded at unprecedented speed. Large numbers of people moved from rural areas into urban centres to work in factories, workshops and offices. Housing shortages were common, and living conditions for many working families were poor, with overcrowding and insecure tenancies the norm. In this context, the desire for a stable home of one’s own became increasingly attractive. Building societies emerged as a collective solution to this problem: groups of ordinary people pooling their savings so that members could borrow money to build or buy houses.

Early building societies were often small, local and mutual in nature. Known as ‘terminating’ societies, they were set up for a specific purpose and dissolved once all members had obtained homes. Each member paid regular subscriptions into a shared fund, which was then lent out in turn to members to finance house construction or purchase. This system depended on trust, cooperation and shared responsibility, values that the gallery highlights as central to the early building society movement. Unlike banks, which were often perceived as distant or elitist, building societies presented themselves as organisations run ‘by the people, for the people’. During the Victorian era, building societies multiplied rapidly. Legislative changes, such as the Building Societies Act of 1874, helped to formalise and regulate the sector, increasing public confidence. At the same time, improvements in transport and construction techniques made suburban living more feasible, especially for clerks, skilled workers and the growing lower middle classes. The gallery shows how building societies actively promoted the idea that homeownership was both attainable and morally desirable. Owning a home was presented as a sign of respectability, thrift and self-discipline, virtues strongly associated with Victorian values.

Advertising and promotional material from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries play a key role in the gallery’s interpretation. Posters, pamphlets and brochures depict neat terraced houses and smiling families, often accompanied by slogans emphasising security, independence and the wisdom of saving. These materials reveal how the dream of homeownership was carefully constructed and marketed. Building societies did not simply provide mortgages, they sold an idea of a better life, one in which regular saving and prudent borrowing led to comfort and social advancement. As the twentieth century progressed, building societies evolved from small, local cooperatives into larger, permanent institutions. Advances in record-keeping, professional management and national advertising allowed societies to expand their reach. The gallery explains how, after the First World War, government policies increasingly aligned with the building society movement. Initiatives such as the ‘Homes fit for Heroes’ campaign and later council house sales reinforced the notion that stable housing was essential to social wellbeing. Building societies became key partners in delivering this vision, providing mortgages to millions of households.

The interwar period and the post-Second World War decades marked a significant expansion in homeownership. Rising wages, longer mortgage terms and state support made owning a home possible for a broader section of the population. The gallery examines how building societies adapted their messaging during this time, shifting from Victorian ideals of thrift toward more modern notions of family life and comfort. Advertisements from the mid-twentieth century often feature domestic interiors filled with modern appliances, presenting homeownership as a gateway to a happier, more convenient lifestyle. Importantly, the gallery does not present this story as a simple tale of progress. It encourages visitors to consider who was included (and excluded) from the promise of homeownership. For much of the twentieth century, access to mortgages was shaped by factors such as income, gender and marital status. Single women, for example, often faced barriers to borrowing, while lower-paid workers struggled to save deposits. The gallery uses personal stories and case studies to highlight these inequalities, reminding visitors that the dream of homeownership was not equally available to all. From the late twentieth century onwards, the role of building societies began to change again. Financial deregulation in the 1980s allowed many societies to expand their services, and some converted into banks. At the same time, house prices rose faster than wages in many parts of the UK, making homeownership increasingly difficult for younger generations.

The gallery reflects on how the language of ‘security’ continued to be used in marketing, even as the realities of the housing market became more complex and uncertain. Mortgages were no longer simply tools for stability, they also carried significant risk. One of the gallery’s strengths lies in its ability to connect historical developments with contemporary debates. Visitors are encouraged to think critically about how ideas of success and security have been shaped by financial institutions and government policy. The long-standing association between homeownership and personal achievement is revealed as a cultural construct, reinforced over decades through advertising, education and social expectation. By placing modern housing challenges in a historical context, the gallery helps explain why the dream of owning a home remains so powerful, even as it becomes harder to realise. The gallery also highlights the enduring legacy of the mutual model. Although the building society sector has changed dramatically since its Victorian origins, many societies continue to operate on principles of member ownership and community focus. This continuity invites reflection on alternative ways of organising finance, ones that prioritise collective benefit over short-term profit. In this sense, Buying Security is not only about housing history, but also about broader questions of fairness, responsibility and the purpose of financial institutions.

The penultimate gallery takes this idea of security a little further. Buying Security – Life Assurance examines how people have sought financial protection against life’s uncertainties, focusing on the origins and development of life assurance in Britain. Central to this story is The Scottish Widows’ Fund and Life Assurance Society, founded in Edinburgh in 1815, and still one of the most recognisable names in financial services today. Through historical objects, documents and interpretation, the gallery explores how life assurance responded to changing understandings of health, risk and responsibility, and how attitudes toward death, disease and lifestyle shaped policies in the past and continue to influence insurance today. Life assurance emerged in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries as societies became more aware of financial vulnerability caused by death. For many families, especially those dependent on a single wage earner, the death of a husband or father could mean immediate poverty. Widows and children were particularly at risk, often reliant on charity or parish relief. The Scottish Widows’ Fund was founded in direct response to this problem, initially created to provide financial support to the widows and children of deceased members. Its establishment reflects a broader shift in thinking: the idea that risk could be calculated, shared and mitigated through collective financial planning rather than left to fate or charity.

The gallery introduces visitors to the early principles of life assurance, explaining how advances in mathematics, statistics and medicine made it possible to estimate life expectancy more accurately. Actuarial science (the use of data to assess risk) became central to the industry. Early life assurance policies were based on age, gender and general health, but these assessments were far cruder than those used today. Applicants were often required to provide personal details and sometimes undergo basic medical examinations, reflecting growing interest in the measurable aspects of human life and longevity. Disease plays a major role in the gallery’s narrative. In the nineteenth century, illnesses such as tuberculosis, cholera and typhoid were widespread and poorly understood. High mortality rates made life assurance a risky business, and insurers were cautious about whom they accepted. Many conditions that are now treatable or manageable were once considered fatal or grounds for rejection. The gallery shows how certain diseases were explicitly excluded from coverage, or led to higher premiums, revealing how medical knowledge (and ignorance) shaped financial decisions. This intersection of health and finance highlights how closely life assurance was tied to contemporary scientific understanding.

Lifestyle choices also strongly influenced early life assurance policies. Occupations involving physical danger, such as mining or seafaring, were often penalised with higher premiums or exclusion altogether. Similarly, behaviours perceived as unhealthy or immoral, including excessive drinking, were viewed as increasing risk. The gallery explores how moral judgement and risk assessment were often intertwined, with insurers making assumptions about character as well as health. These practices reinforced social norms and expectations, suggesting that responsible behaviour could be rewarded with financial security, while perceived recklessness carried economic consequences. The Scottish Widows’ Fund distinguished itself by emphasising prudence, respectability and long-term planning. Its early promotional material portrayed life assurance as a moral duty, an act of care and foresight that protected families from hardship. The gallery features historic advertisements and documents that show how assurance was marketed not simply as a financial product, but as an expression of love, responsibility and social respectability. This messaging resonated strongly in Victorian and Edwardian Britain, where values of thrift and self-reliance were widely promoted. As medical science advanced in the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries, life assurance policies evolved. Improved understanding of disease transmission, sanitation and public health led to longer life expectancies and more predictable risk.

The gallery traces how insurers adapted by refining their assessment methods, introducing more detailed medical questionnaires and examinations. Conditions once considered uninsurable gradually became acceptable, often with adjusted premiums. This evolution reflects the dynamic relationship between science and finance: as knowledge improved, so too did the ability to spread risk more equitably. The Museum also examines how major historical events influenced life assurance. Wars, epidemics and economic crises forced insurers to reassess their models and assumptions. The two World Wars, in particular, created unprecedented mortality risks while also increasing awareness of the importance of financial protection. Life assurance became more mainstream during the twentieth century, moving beyond the middle classes to reach a broader population. The gallery highlights how companies like Scottish Widows adapted their products to changing social structures, including the rise of dual-income households and longer retirements. A key theme of Buying Security – Life Assurance is continuity and change. While the language and technology of insurance have evolved, many underlying principles remain the same. Modern policies still assess risk based on health, age and lifestyle, though with far greater sophistication and regulatory oversight.

Lifestyle remains a particularly relevant issue today, and the gallery makes this connection explicit. Smoking, alcohol consumption, diet and exercise continue to influence premiums, echoing nineteenth-century concerns about behaviour and longevity. However, modern approaches increasingly recognise the complexity of health, acknowledging social, environmental and genetic factors alongside personal choice. By contrasting past and present practices, the gallery shows how life assurance has gradually shifted from moral judgement toward more nuanced, evidence-based risk assessment, though tensions remain. The story of Scottish Widows itself provides a powerful through-line. From its origins as a fund to support bereaved families to its modern incarnation as a major financial services brand, the organisation embodies the long history of life assurance in Scotland. The gallery highlights how its iconic imagery (particularly the figure of the widow) has evolved, reflecting changing attitudes toward gender, dependency and independence. What began as a response to women’s financial vulnerability has transformed into a broader vision of financial planning for all.

The final gallery All Change, brings the visitor’s journey firmly into the modern age. After exploring the long histories of money, banking, security and financial institutions, All Change focuses on the rapid transformations of the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. It examines how money is no longer simply something we hold in our hands, but something increasingly invisible, digital and interconnected. The gallery encourages visitors to reflect on how quickly financial systems are changing, how these changes affect everyday life, and what they might mean for the future. At the heart of All Change is the idea that money is constantly evolving in response to technology, social behaviour and global forces. For most of human history, money was physical and tangible: shells, coins, paper notes. Even into the mid-twentieth century, everyday financial activity revolved around cash, passbooks and face-to-face interactions at local branches. The gallery highlights how, within just a few decades, this familiar world has been transformed. Debit cards, online banking, contactless payments and mobile apps have reshaped how people earn, spend, save and borrow, often making financial transactions faster and more convenient, but also more abstract and less visible.

One section of the gallery explores the rise of electronic banking and payment systems. Displays chart the development from early cash machines and credit cards to today’s digital wallets and instant transfers. Visitors are encouraged to consider how revolutionary these innovations were at the time: the first ATMs removed the need to visit a bank during opening hours, while card payments reduced reliance on cash. The gallery shows how these changes altered not just banking practices but everyday routines, reshaping high streets, workplaces and consumer habits. What once required paperwork and personal interaction could now be done at the touch of a button. Alongside convenience, the gallery also addresses the growing complexity of modern money. As financial systems became more globalised, money began to move across borders at unprecedented speed. The gallery introduces visitors to the idea that vast sums of money circulate through global markets every second, far beyond the scale of everyday transactions. This shift has brought opportunities for growth and investment, but also new risks and vulnerabilities. By linking personal finance to global systems, All Change helps visitors understand how events in one part of the world can have direct consequences for individuals elsewhere. A key theme of the gallery is trust. In earlier galleries, trust was often tied to physical objects, the weight of a coin, the authority stamped on a banknote, or the solidity of a bank building. In the modern era, trust increasingly rests on technology, regulation and institutions that are often invisible to consumers. The gallery explores questions such as: What does it mean to trust money you can’t see? How do people know their digital payments are secure? Through interactive displays and thought-provoking questions, visitors are invited to reflect on how confidence in financial systems is built and maintained in an age of cybercrime, data breaches and online fraud.

The gallery also confronts moments of disruption and crisis. The financial crash of 2007–08 looms large in the story of modern money, and All Change does not shy away from its impact. Exhibits explore how complex financial products, excessive risk-taking and global interdependence contributed to the crisis, and how its consequences were felt by ordinary people through job losses, austerity measures and reduced trust in financial institutions. By placing the crisis within a longer historical narrative, the gallery encourages visitors to see it not as an isolated event, but as part of an ongoing pattern of innovation, risk and reform. Another important strand of All Change is the changing relationship between consumers and financial institutions. The gallery highlights how customers today are expected to take more responsibility for managing their finances, from choosing pensions and insurance products to navigating credit and debt. This shift is contrasted with earlier models in which financial decisions were often mediated by trusted local institutions or employers. Interactive elements prompt visitors to think about the skills and knowledge required to navigate modern financial life, raising questions about financial education, inclusion and inequality. Digital technology has also reshaped ideas of identity and privacy, themes that are woven throughout the gallery. Paying with a card or phone leaves a data trail, turning everyday purchases into information that can be analysed and monetised. The gallery invites visitors to consider the trade-offs between convenience and surveillance, asking how much personal data people are willing to exchange for faster or cheaper services. This modern concern echoes earlier questions about trust and transparency, showing that while the forms of money change, the underlying issues often remain familiar.

Looking to the future, All Change briefly explores emerging forms of money such as cryptocurrencies and digital currencies. Rather than presenting definitive answers, the gallery encourages curiosity and debate. Importantly, the gallery maintains a human focus throughout. Stories of individuals and communities help ground abstract concepts in lived experience. Whether it is someone adapting to online banking for the first time, a small business navigating digital payments, or a young person encountering money primarily through apps rather than notes and coins, these perspectives emphasise that financial change affects people in different ways. The gallery encourages empathy as well as understanding, reminding visitors that not everyone experiences change at the same pace or with the same confidence. As the final gallery in the museum, All Change serves as both a conclusion and an opening. It draws together themes from earlier galleries (trust, security, innovation and responsibility) and shows how they continue to shape the modern world. At the same time, it leaves visitors with open questions rather than neat conclusions. How will money continue to change? Who will benefit from new systems, and who might be left behind? What role should institutions, governments and individuals play in shaping the future of finance? Ultimately, All Change invites reflection on the idea that money is not a fixed or neutral tool, but a social creation that evolves alongside technology, culture and values. By encouraging visitors to think critically about the financial world they inhabit, the gallery empowers them to see themselves not just as passive users of money, but as active participants in its ongoing story. In doing so, it provides a fitting and forward-looking conclusion to the Museum on the Mound’s exploration of money, banking and society.

The juxtaposition of a working bank headquarters and a public museum within the same building is one of its most intriguing features. Visitors to the museum descend into spaces that were once part of the bank’s operational heart, beneath the great arches of the building’s original structure, and alongside layers of architectural history visible in the walls and detailing. These physical spaces palpably reflect the building’s dual identity: a site of financial power and a place of historical memory. In recent years the building has retained its prominence in Edinburgh’s cultural and civic life. Despite occasional announcements about potential museum closures that sparked public debate and media coverage, the Museum on the Mound continues to operate, drawing tens of thousands of visitors each year to learn about banking, economics and the striking story of the structure that houses them. Its situation at the top of The Mound ensures that, whether seen from Princes Street or the Royal Mile, the former Bank of Scotland headquarters remains a defining piece of Edinburgh’s architectural tapestry, a monument to centuries of economic history and urban evolution. If you’re in the city in the near future, ensure you visit and learn more about how money has evolved and continues to do so.

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