A Committee of the House of Commons sat on the poor medallist, its decision being that “It is too great a trust and may be of dangerous consequence for the said Roettier to have the custody of the dies, he being a Roman Catholic and keeping an Irish Papist in his house, and having the custody of the said dies, it lies in his power to let them out when he pleases, or to coin false money in the Tower. That the Lord Lucas has complained that the Tower is not safe while so many Papists are entertained in Roettier’s house.” All Roetier’s dies and puncheons were accordingly seized, and he himself was driven from the Tower. He appears to have returned, however, in 1703, just after a visit he had received from Sir Godfrey Kneller, who had been sent to him by Queen Anne to execute a medal of her Majesty, which, however, the old medallist was unable to perform; he died shortly afterwards, and was buried in St Peter’s Chapel.
In an interesting article by Mr W. J. Hocking in the Gentleman’s Magazine for March 1895, entitled “Money-making in the Tower,” there is some curious information respecting the Mint once established in the Tower. Mr Hocking says that coining operations have been carried on in the Tower in every reign since the Conquest, save in those of Richard I. and Edward V. It is even possible that the Romans struck their money in the Tower, for Constantine had a mint working in London, the treasurer of which bore the title of Praepositus Thesaurorum Augustinium. In Edward the Third’s reign it was enacted that all moneys, wherever coined, should be made in the same manner as in the Tower. James I. was present at the trial of the Pix in the Tower, and “diligently viewed the state of his money and mint.”
Money was coined in fifteen places at least, besides the Tower, in the reign of Charles I. It was during his tenure of the crown that Nicholas Briot, a French engraver, worked at the Tower, the money then turned out being said to be the finest in the world.
After the Restoration small steel rolling-mills were set up in the Tower driven by horse and water power, the cost of striking one year’s coinage being £1400. The new milled coinage was a great improvement on the old hammered coins. It was at this time that the great English medallist Simon’s “Petition Medal” was produced. This came from a competition, between him and Roetier; the latter won the competition, and consequently made the puncheons and dies for the new coinage. Simon was infuriated by his defeat and spoke some hasty words which, being repeated to Charles, caused his dismissal. Some twenty of Simon’s “petition medals” were struck, with the legend round their edges as follows:—“Thomas Simon most humbly prays your Majesty to compare this his tryall piece with the Dutch (Roetier’s), and if more truly drawn and embossed, more gracefully order’d and more accurately engraven, to relieve him.” For one of these medals as much as £500 has been given by a firm of London coin-dealers, so rare is the piece.
The punishment meted out to coiners and clippers of coins in this reign was incredibly barbarous. In those so-called “good old times” in one day seven men were hanged and a woman burned for clipping and counterfeiting the current coin.
A Coinage Act was passed by Parliament in 1696, and under its provisions all the old hammered money was called in, melted in furnaces near Whitehall, and sent in ingots to the Tower, to reappear in the new milled form. That wonderful man, Sir Isaac Newton, was made Master of the Tower Mint, and the number of mills being increased by his advice, in a few months, owing to his energy, a time of great commercial prosperity ensued. In 1810 the new Office of the Mint was opened on Little Tower Hill, where it still remains.
The Beauchamp Tower
The following is taken from Mr Hocking’s article on the Tower Mint:—
“On the morning of December 20th, 1798, James Turnbull, one Dalton, and two other men were engaged in the press-room swinging the fly of the screw-press, while Mr Finch, one of the manager’s apprentices, fed the press with gold blank pieces, which were struck into guineas. At nine o’clock Mr Finch sent the men to their breakfast. They all four went out; but Dalton and Turnbull returned almost directly. And while the latter held the door, Turnbull drew a pistol and advanced upon Mr Finch, demanding the key of the closet where the newly-coined guineas were kept. Finch, paralyzed with fear and surprise, yielded it up. An old gentleman who was in the room expostulated; but both were forced into a sort of passage or large cupboard and locked in. Turnbull then helped himself to the guineas, and managed to get off with no less than 2308. For nine days he effectually concealed himself in the neighbourhood, and then, while endeavouring to escape to France, was apprehended. He was tried, convicted, and sentenced to death. In his defence he cleared Dalton from any willing complicity in the crime.” Turnbull was executed at the Old Bailey.