Before the sixteenth century, coins were produced in pretty much the same way as they had been in Ancient Greece. Metal would be heated until it was molten and poured into moulds before being allowed to cool. The blank piece (planchet) was then extracted from its mould and placed between two engraved metal dies. The upper die was then struck sharply with a hammer to produce an image on both sides. The process was repeated until the images produced on the coins fell below the required quality threshold, and it became necessary to replace the dies.

One of the problems associated with hammered coins is that it was difficult to produce coins of a regular diameter. Their irregular, non-uniform shapes made them particularly vulnerable to clipping, where criminals would cut slivers of precious metal off the edge of the coin before passing it on. The crime of clipping coins warranted the same punishment as counterfeiting – a death sentence.
When Elizabeth I became Queen on the death of her elder sister Mary in November 1558, she inherited a coinage crisis caused by the large number of badly worn, clipped and counterfeit coins in circulation. Coins struck during the first eighteen months of her reign failed to make much of an impact as the new coins were quickly seized by private collectors and thus failed to circulate, which proved Gresham’s law that “bad money drives out good”.
In 1560, the Queen ordered a recoinage to take place. Circulating money was recalled to the Tower of London to be melted down and transformed into new coins. The mint based there was restructured to better enable it to complete the task, and a Frenchman named Eloy Mestrelle was invited to travel to London with his family to set up the first mechanised coining press in England. The coins he produced that year would become the first non-hammered coins to enter circulation in Britain.
Mestrelle had learned his craft on the screw press at the French Mint at Versailles, and it appears that he may have arrived at the Tower under a cloud of suspicion. After appointing him to build and operate Britain’s first coining machine, the Queen also granted him a pardon “for all treasons, felonies and offences … in respect of clipping or counterfeiting coin” that may have occurred previously.
To create his coinage, Mestrelle poured molten silver into moulds, flattened the rough shapes with rollers and then punched out coin blanks of the correct size and weight. These were then placed between two specially created dies beneath a large 23-kilogram ram attached to a large cross-shaped handle. Rapidly rotating the handle slammed the dies together, which produced a perfectly struck coin with a milled edge to protect it from clippers.

The first English coins produced on the screw press in 1561 were the shilling, groat and half groat, and Mestrelle switched to sixpences and threepences when the new denominations were introduced later that year. The Queen was impressed enough with the new coins to award Mestrelle an annual pension of £25 in December 1561.
Though hammered coinage remained the bulk of the mint’s output, it is a testament to the superior quality of the milled sixpences struck in 1561 and 1562 that many thousands were still to be found in circulation well over a century later.

The vast majority of milled coins produced at this time were silver, but there were also some gold half pounds, crowns and half-crowns produced. The Bishop of London, Edmund Grindal, referred to them in a letter written in June 1562 in which he described them as being made “in a manner resembling print”.
When Londoners were struck down by the plague during the summer of 1563, the mint was forced to shut down for nearly a year as people fled the city. When it reopened, silver was in short supply, and production was slow, with the bulk of the work going to the hammerers. It wasn’t until the end of 1566 that the production of milled coins resumed and the screw press began turning out milled threepences and sixpences again.
Mestrelle’s small team had worked independently of the manual coin hammerers, who may have feared that the new technology would shortly put them out of a job. He also failed to endear himself to mint officials, who favoured the traditional hammered production method as it was considerably cheaper. Milled coins were increasingly seen as an expensive curiosity and attracted sightseers to the Tower who wished to see the new technology in operation, which presented its own problems for security.
In September 1568, a member of Eloy’s family, Philip Mestrelle, was arrested and charged with making four counterfeit Burgundian crowns. Eloy was implicated in the scandal, and four months later, Philip was convicted and hanged at the Tyburn gallows. Eloy escaped prosecution and secured a second pardon from the Queen. However, the knives were out for the Frenchman, and it appears that a successful campaign to sabotage his output at the mint had begun.
Coins struck by Mestrelle from 1570 onwards are notably inferior in design detail, which may have been because some of his equipment had been confiscated by mint officials. Mestrelle may have attempted to express his frustrations to the Queen in the form of a small medal made to commemorate the defence of the kingdom. On the obverse with the Queen’s portrait is the inscription, QVID NOS SINE TE (What are we without thee). On the reverse, there is an image of a castle, possibly the Tower of London, with the message, QVID HOC SINE ARMIS (What is this without tools). As if to underline his poignant plea, the quality of the medal is poorer than his earlier coin work. However, if Mestrelle intended to alert the Queen to his mistreatment at the mint, there is no evidence that he was successful.

In December 1571, a change of management at the mint neatly brought about the end of milled coinage at the Tower of London. Under the guise of an efficiency drive, the Warden of the Mint, Richard Martin, held a time trial to determine which technology could make the most coin blanks in one hour. While two men using Mestrelle’s equipment produced 22 blank sixpences, the hammerers produced 280. History does not record how many hammerers were involved in the trial, or why the trial didn’t involve the production of finished coins. It gave Martin the excuse he needed to seize the Frenchman’s machinery and forbid him from accessing the mint. Mestrelle was, however, permitted to retain his lodgings within the Tower, where he lived quietly with his family for the next five years.
The unemployed moneyer, faced with mounting debts, appears to have drifted into a life of crime. In October 1577, he was arrested in London and charged with counterfeiting. His possessions were seized, his house cleared, and his widowed mother and family turned out onto the street. Realising the severity of his predicament, he offered to divulge the names of former colleagues who were counterfeiting coins, but it was to no avail. In the spring of 1578, he found himself making the dreadful one-way journey to the gallows for an appointment with the hangman.
Mestrelle’s screw press equipment in the Tower of London was used occasionally, and remained a
curiosity for several years before it was allowed to fall into disrepair. It would be over a century before the hand hammerers would be threatened again by the new technology. As time went by, other uses were found for the superior milled coins. In the opening scene of his play, ‘The Merry Wives of Windsor’, first performed around 1600, Shakespeare refers to ‘mill-sixpences’ being used as gaming tokens. There is also evidence that they were used as love tokens, where two coins were bent together into an ‘S’ shape for each lover to carry with them.
The tragic tale of Eloy Mestrelle is a powerful reminder that progress often comes at great personal cost, and that those who introduce change are not always honoured in their lifetime. Though Mestrelle died in disgrace, the ideas he brought to Great Britain would ultimately outlast his enemies. In that sense, his fate was the unfortunate consequence of being ahead of his time. But his legacy is a lasting one, struck into the very future of British coinage.























































