Owner Comments:
As I previously noted, collecting the medals of the Soho Mint affords opportunities to explore areas of history that have largely been overshadowed by more prevalent events. The current medal was executed in celebration of the signing of the Peace of Amiens, which temporarily ended French and British hostilities that had rocked the continent over the last decade. Although this was a much-welcomed change of events for both French and British citizens, it was doomed to fail. The initial news was met with enthusiasm, but the long negotiations spoiled the excitement, which might explain why only 204 of these medals were produced despite the widespread public acceptance of the newfound peace (Tungate, 2020). In this brief write-up, I hope to explore the socio-political underpinnings of the treaty, its downfall, and the eventual resumption of war.
This write-up is only intended as a brief introduction to paint the larger picture to place the Peace of Amiens in the historical context of this era. If you wish to learn more or have specific questions not addressed here, I encourage you to pursue the titles listed in the references and interesting links sections. Likewise, only passing mentions will be made in reference to the numerous battles that occurred over the last decade leading up to the peace talks. I encourage you to seek the relevant medals in this collection to learn more about those events, but the reader should be aware that this view is heavily skewed in favor of the British. After all, these medals were produced by a prideful British subject, so any depiction of French prowess is unlikely to be found.
Eggshells – The socio-political landscape of Britain and France
Although fundamentally opposed on a number of fronts, the British and French governments were initially held captive by the power of domestic popular opinion. The socio-political landscape in France was fraught with domestic unrest due to a host of problematic circumstances extenuating from the revolution. Seizing upon an opportunity to quench his ambition for personal power, Bonaparte would go on to establish the First Consul. In theory, the First Consul was to consist of three people, but in practice, Bonaparte was the only one of the three with real power. As a popular military man, he was cognizant of the fact that he had the support of the military, which he used to his advantage to essentially convert France into a military state affording him the opportunity to consolidate power. In part, this was accomplished by conscription law that was drastically unpopular and only fanned the flames of domestic unrest (Grainger, 2004). Bonaparte’s government, even with the backing of the military was still in its infancy, and there is little doubt that the power of public opinion demonstrated during the revolution remained palpable in France. In short, Bonaparte could not afford to alienate public opinion if he wished to retain power. The increase in military power could partly be justified by the ongoing war, but the general public in both France and Britain demanded peace.
In response to the French public desire for peace, Bonaparte initiated a series of diplomatic moves in December of 1799 that, in appearance, indicated that he too desired peace with Britain (Grainger, 2004). In an extreme violation of British Foreign Policy, Bonaparte had addressed George III directly to initiate peace talks. Senior British leadership, namely Pitt and Grenville, took Bonaparte’s blunder as a blatant disregard for British policy, and as such, any talks of peace were essentially dead on arrival. No true progress towards achieving peace would come to fruition so long as Pitt and Grenville still held power. Luckily for Bonaparte, Pitt would resign in February of 1801. Although over-simplified, his resignation was largely driven by his failure to convince King George III to agree with Catholic Emancipation, which was a main tenant of the union between Britain and Ireland that he previously negotiated. As we will soon see, Bonaparte would later use British catholic alienation to further his efforts to destabilize the British government leading up to and during the war following the collapse of peace. Henry Addington would replace Pitt as Prime Minster, and although there was a shift in leadership, a good number of those who once worked under Pitt retained their political power. This “new” government, as it is often referred to by historians, was under immense pressure to pacify public unrest. As such, they had a vested interest in appeasing public demands for peace if it wished to retain power moving forward. After all, dividing focus between an ever-expanding war and quelling domestic unrest made it difficult to secure any real sense of stability. This fact was not lost on Addington and would certainly explain the steadfast dedication to the peace talks despite the uncooperative nature of the French.
The Preliminaries:
Negotiating the preliminary agreement between Britain and France was no easy matter. Despite that these new negotiations were proceeded by five years of scattered discussions about the possibility of peace, this was the first time that terms had been suggested (Grainger, 2004). It is hard to fault either Britain or France for wanting to secure the most favorable terms for their country, which necessitated a strong position during negotiation to achieve. To this end, the negotiation of terms was only pursued earnestly in instances in which one party had a distinct advantage over the other or if there was a perception in the loss of power in the near future. For instance, the French found renewed interest in peace leading up to and shortly following their defeat by the British in Malta. Likewise, the difficulties faced by Austria had direct implications for British national security, prompting the British to reinvigorate talks of peace with France. This pattern of despondence paired with renewed interest at times of crisis would repeat itself through multiple cycles before eventually coming to a head with the failure of the armed neutrality and the mounting domestic pressure for peace.
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The entirety of the negotiations between Britain and France were complicated and largely driven by the seemingly unreasonable requests made by the French. I use these terms lightly, as there is little doubt that these demands were directly from Bonaparte with only a slightly measurable degree of outside influence. Lord Hawkesbury, the British Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, led the charge for the British in 1801 by sending an outline of agreeable terms of peace to the French agent, Louis Guillaume Otto. Of course, neither Hawkesbury nor Otto had the power to settle the matter of peace between them as they both had to report to their superiors. This chain of communication only served to further complicate matters as the subsequent talks that followed were sporadic, often unrelated to one another, and wholly unproductive for long periods of time. This was further compounded by the manner in which the French, and by this I really mean Bonaparte, approached these negotiations. In nearly every instance that I can tell, the terms provided by both parties were often subject to seemingly erratic changes initiated by the French. This reached a head on June 6th of 1801, leading Hawkesbury to propose an equally ludicrous set of terms to the French. Hawkesbury offered two options, restoration of all positions and boundaries as they were in 1792 before the war started or serious consideration of the initial terms he sent in April (Grainger, 2004). Obviously, the French would never agree to the first option, and as such, it was clear that any future talks would have to be grounded in reality by which the French would have to concede in part to the British. From here, Hawkesbury remained steadfast to the original terms and only made concessions for French interests when he perceived good faith from the French in return.
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As the fighting progressed during this odd interval of pseudo-peace, the tide of the war continued to shift. France was losing its stronghold in Egypt, and there was no definitive way of defeating the British beyond a direct invasion, which was not in the realm of possibilities. These factors, paired with the growing domestic pressure for peace both in France and Britain no doubt influenced the eventual resumption of progressive negotiations. By this point, the negotiations had been in the public eye for an extended period of time, and failure to reach peace would have been politically devastating to the public opinion of both governments, which was not a blow that either was prepared to endure. To further complicate the matters, the British government had a policy of publishing failed negotiations with foreign powers as a way of influencing transparency but also protecting their government from domestic unrest (Grainger, 2004). Nonetheless, Addington’s critics would have likely painted his government as being addicted to war. To this end, the young British and French governments had little choice but to proceed with negotiations in a manner that allowed both to save face.
News of the preliminary terms agreed upon broke in October of 1801. In general, the news was enthusiastically welcomed with large celebrations across Britain. Storefronts in major cities were illuminated, and large celebratory crowds gathered in London. As noted by Grainger (2004), this London mob turned violent against those who failed to celebrate, often smashing the windows of any establishment that failed to illuminate its storefront. A similar celebration occurred at the Soho Manufactory in Birmingham, when Boulton ordered Murdoch to use gas lighting to illuminate the two buildings conjoined to the main structure of the Soho Manufactory while the decorated façade of the main building was lit by oil lamps (Demidowicz, 2022). The engraving to the left depicts the furnace that would have been used to accomplish this. These celebrations underscore the desire of the British populace for peace and further support the perceived threat to Addington’s government if they had failed to achieve it. Of course, part of the desire for peace stemmed from the high-income tax exerted by Pitt to fund the war, which would soon be repealed during times of peace.
Peace
Cornwallis was appointed as the British Plenipotentiary and traveled to Amiens, where the treaty was signed on March 27th, 1802. At the time, Cornwallis and Hawkesbury expressed privately no confidence in French good faith and were convinced that the peace would be short-lived. It appears this sentiment was strongly shared throughout British society, as no grand celebrations occurred as before when the preliminaries were published. That is not to say that celebrations did not ensue, but they were not nearly as widespread. Perhaps this bleak outlook on the prospect of an eventual resurgence of war was only made worse by the harsh criticisms of the treaty provided by Addington’s political foes, namely Grenville and Windham. In reality, neither had prior experience negotiating terms of peace with the French, as their efforts failed to even agree to the possibility of peace. Nonetheless, there is a reason to suspect their view influenced at least some social circles. Even the King referred to the current state of affairs between Britain and France as an “
experimental peace”, which underlines the very temporary standing of its existence (Grainger, 2004). For those who had paid attention, the long negotiations signaled a fundamental mistrust between the British and French governments, which could only serve to unravel the negotiations of the last year. This lackluster response to the official signing was not restricted to British Society. It was even more so apparent within French society, where almost no celebrations had occurred upon the announcement of the preliminaries. The official signing was haphazardly celebrated in Paris by a parade of 14,000 troops, the publishing of the treaty, the firing of guns, and the illumination of government buildings. From contemporary accounts, it appears most wandered about to enjoy the spectacle but did little to celebrate the event that triggered it.
The ephemeral nature of the peace and the dread associated with a resumed war were palpable, but this was in large part due to the lack of trust between the two nations. This mistrust was further instigated by the incomplete nature of treaty terms and the inability of the French government to self-reflect on their actions. Although Grainger (2004) does not directly draw the comparison, it is not hard to imagine that the British efforts to hold France to the terms of the treaty were much like trying to reason with a screaming toddler in a crowded checkout line who refuses to hand over the chocolate firmly in their grip. By most accounts, the British had faithfully executed their duties as outlined in the treaty, but the French were less responsive. They had already demonstrated their keen ability to circumvent the terms of the Treaty of Lunéville, and it was reasonable to conclude they would do the same with the Treaty of Amiens. When the British would confront the French about their numerous violations (e.g., sequestration, the presence of French troops in Holland and Italy, numerous continental advances, etc.), the French would respond with condemnation that the British were also in violation of the treaty. Although technically true, the British violation was not entirely due to their shortcomings. As part of the treaty, the British were to evacuate Malta, but only after a series of complicated and cascading requirements were met that were far from the direct control of the British. From contemporary sources, it appears the British were welcomed by the locals in hopes of fending off another most disagreeable French occupation (Allen, 1994). At first, the British had no means of evacuating Malta while maintaining their obligations under the treaty, but this was a fact that France conveniently ignored.
This pattern of back and forth finger pointing would continue with new complaints from the French to ensure the British were distracted from other French aggressions. For example, Bonaparte seemingly took great personal offense to the numerous anti-French publications throughout Britain. Of course, this was further compounded by the fact that many were controlled by émigrés who escaped revolutionary France. Despite their equal contempt for both British and English politicians, Bonaparte was convinced that they were strictly against him. He would often communicate his displeasure directly and through his agents, if the British would confront the French government about their numerous violations. In doing so, Bonaparte or his agent would make extreme demands that the British press should censor all anti-French (i.e., anything against Bonaparte) sentiments as they had already done domestically. This was a blatant overreach and an attempt to subvert British sovereignty by imposing French law on British subjects. In an unsigned publication in the Moniteur, Bonaparte insinuates that the British are acting in bad faith due to their unwillingness to censor the British press. This only furthered the tension between the two governments by deepening the degree of mistrust. This would eventually fizzle away as other more pressing matters would come to light, such as the French efforts to fan the flames of an Irish insurrection. Although contemporary evidence was scant at the time, we know now that the French government actively encouraged another Irish rebellion in hopes of drawing British forces in response in hopes that it would leave the English shores vulnerable to an invasion. This resulted in the conviction of several Irish conspirators. As Grainger (2004) explains, these plots were not likely to ensue any real impact as a successful Irish insurrection would require a simultaneous and highly coordinated French invasion. Once the war was declared, and the Royal Navy was bolstered, communication was made too difficult, and this plot was no longer a contingency.
As noted by Lokke (1943) the gradual descent back to war was far more complicated than I lay out above. As is always the case in matters of international war and politics, there is more to the story than what is initially perceived. I have decided to forgo discussing those details here as I am not a historian on the matter and doing so would venture far beyond the limited scope of this introductory write-up.
War
By March, war seemed inevitable, and parliament took needed steps to bolster their national security to help fend off a potential French invasion. A large French expeditionary force was stationed in Holland under the guise of being headed to Louisiana, but given the deeply engrained mistrust, the British could not be certain this was true. On March 8th, 1803, Parliament was asked to consider an act to authorize the Royal Navy to bolster its roster by 10,000 seamen. This was approved without hesitation in light of the growing concerns of a French invasion, although Grainger (2004) explains that this might have been a bit exaggerated at the time. Shortly after April 23rd, the British government sent a final ultimatum to the French, insisting that the treaty either be enforced in full by both sides or further negotiations were needed. In typical fashion, the French continued their distraction campaign, and eventually, all efforts of reconciliation were abandoned. Conflict ensued on May 11th, and an official declaration of war was published on May 18th by the British. As noted by Grainger (2004), the British people needed no convincing of the necessity of the war, but a full list of grievances justifying it was published to appease the interests of Austria and Russia. The British were aware that they alone could not defeat the French and therefore actively pursued diplomatic relations with both countries. This work started nearly two years earlier with Russia after the collapse of the armed neutrality. Eventually, this would help establish the Third Coalition which led to victory.
The importance of public opinion on these matters did not alter from the French Revolutionary Wars to the Napoleonic Wars, but it did change. This is especially true in Britain, where the general public no longer viewed the French military through the rose-tinted glasses of revolution. Furthermore, the perception of the war had drastically shifted. Bonaparte was accurately perceived as a major threat, and the possibility of his defeat was further bolstered by the previous victories in Egypt and Copenhagen as well as the rapid victories in the French-held colonial territories after the declaration of war in 1803. Despite the reintroduction of income tax, the war effort favored public opinion, which undoubtedly made the threat of internal instability subside. To this end, the financial restructuring initiated by Addington, paired with the overt actions of the French, accounted for one major piece of the puzzle to British success – a unified public opinion on the war effort. In the end, the Peace of Amines only lasted fourteen months, but the time of peace offered both countries a desperately needed reprieve from war. Unlike the French, during peace, the British took the time to consolidate power and establish a firm financial footing which would prove vital to their eventual success.
Obverse:
George III is depicted facing left wearing armor that protects his chest and back (i.e., cuirassed). His hair is tightly pulled into a single thick strand tied behind his head with a ribbon double wrapped around the strand and secured by a knot with two bows and a single loose end. Almost immediately below the knot, the hair forms several strands of large curls. One rests on his left shoulder while the others fall behind his back. The lowest curl nearly touches the last letter of the legend. A curl is tightly wrapped around his back and protrudes under the bust. Three rows of tightly looped curls appear just above his ear, the lowest of which conceals all but his earlobe. A tightly drawn scarf covers the King's neck and is partially obscured by a series of ruffles from what appears lacey fabric closest to the King’s chest. The lacey fabric is superseded by a thicker fabric that protrudes from his breastplate in large curvy swells. The breastplate is decorated with what appears to be a face in the immediate center. A large curvy ribbon is draped around the King’s shoulders and partially obscures the less intricate design found on the breastplate and the armor wrapped around his left shoulder. Attached to this ribbon is an oval medal with a series of twenty well-formed beads (I assume these are meant to represent gems) containing yet another oval of smaller beads. A depiction of St. George slaying a dragon appears in the center of the medallion. It is worth noting that the bottom portion of the medallion bisects the inner rim of the obverse but does not extend to the edge. His left shoulder protrudes out toward the viewer and is covered by a thick fabric which is superseded by a thinner ruffled fabric and the edge of the armor. Three equally spaced dots appear on the lightly striated truncation of the left shoulder. The engraver signed his work in the exergue between the inner rim and the truncation of the bust. It reads
C · H · KÜCHLER . FEC.. The obverse legend is divided by the King’s portrait. The obverse legend appears above the bust closely in line with the inner rim. It reads
GEORGIUS III · D : G · on the left, and
M · BR · FR · ET H · REX·. The entire obverse design (albeit the portion of the medallion) is contained within a slightly raised inner rim, which is superseded by a substantially wider rim of greater relief. Two small lumps appear on the edge of the medal around 7 o’clock. Although no argument has been made specific to this medal, other Soho Medals with this peculiar lump have been argued to be presentation copies designated for notable individuals. The argument is that the lump helped delineate the ordinary medals from the presentation pieces.
Reverse:
The reverse of this medal depicts the allegorical figure of peace draped in a tightly fitting gown gazing to her left upon an olive branch held high in her left hand. Her left shoulder and breast are exposed. In her right hand, she holds a lit torch which she uses to burn a pile of items designed to symbolize arms. Within this pile, one can clearly discern several flags, swords, trumpets, and a rifle with a fixed bayonet. A plume of smoke exudes from the pile just above the lit torch. On the ground to her left appears an open sack, out of which falls a large pile of coins, fruit, and a caduceus. It is clear from the design that she is standing by the seaside, as the shore is broken with distant waves leading to an open sea. A three-masted ship flying the Union Jack is depicted close to the shore. Two other ships appear in the distance to her left and one in the far distance to her right. The edge of the landscape marked on the right with engraver’s details “C . H . KUCHLER . F”. In exergue appears “PAX UBIQUE M D C C C II.”. The reverse legend “TRIUMPHIS POTIOR.” appears wrapped around the innermost rim just above the allegorical figure of peace. All of this is contained within a slightly raised inner rim, which is superseded by a substantially wider rim of greater relief.
Edge: Plain
Size: 48mm
Notes:
Despite the relatively low mintage of just 204 pieces, examples of this medal come up for sale with some frequency. That said, a considerable number of them could not accurately be described as uncirculated. To further complicate matters, those that are technically uncirculated are often not well preserved. So far, this is the best-preserved specimen I have come across, and in my opinion, is far superior to the medal that once resided in the Watt Jr. Collection. Although I wish it were closer in preservation to the other Soho medals in this collection, it is likely towards the top of conditional rarity. It seems fitting that this medal has been seemingly lost among medal enthusiasts, given the general disposition towards the very event it was designed to depict. It is interesting to note the 1850 sale of the Soho Mint describes this medal as “On The Peace, 1802”, but this does not correspond with the modern titles used by Pollard (1970). It is also curious to note that one pair of dies, a punch of the reverse, and a steel collar for this medal appeared as lot 224 in the sale. That said, there is no telling if this lot ever came up for auction, and if it did, there is no way of ruling out the possibility that Matthew Piers Watt Boulton did not have his agent purchase it for him to retain. I do not know of any restrikes of this medal, but that does not preclude their existence. That said, restrikes would only increase the available supply, which one would assume would also correspond to an increase in well-preserved specimens offered. As previously noted, this does not seem to be the case.
****The holder is very scuffed****
References:
Allen, D. F. (1994) New Light on Malta During the Peace of Amiens, 1801 – 1803. The British Library Journal, 20(2), pp 174-183.
Grainger, J. D. (2004) The Amiens Truce Britain and Bonaparte, 1801-1803. Suffolk: The Boydell Press.
Lokke, C. D. (1943). Secret Negotions to Maintain the Peace of Amiens. The American Historical Review, 49(1), pp 55-64.
Pollard, J. G. (1970). Matthew Boulton and Conrad Heinrich Küchler. The Numismatic Chronicle, 10, 259-318.
Tungate, S. (2020) Matthew Boulton and The Soho Mint: copper to customer. Worcestershire: Brewin Books.
Vice, D. (1995). A fresh insight into Soho Mint restrikes & those responsible for their manufacture. Format Coins, Birmingham, 3-14.
Interesting Links:
https://www.napoleon.org/en/history-of-the-two-empires/articles/peace-of-amiens/
https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/07075332.2021.1972027