Q.David Bowers
The Mint was already producing bronze restrikes of the official medals in 1842, under the direction of Robert M. Patterson, who wished to assemble the Mint Cabinet as part of America's heritage and who traced the old dies. Patterson solicited the order for the Tyler medals, as he wished to try using a portrait lathe to cut the dies, rather than using a die engraver. The result was apparently well received in Washington. Patterson also muled a set of dies bearing the portrait of John Adams, to correct the omission of nearly a century before and to complete the presidential series. Unfortunately, Patterson was more concerned with the numismatic tradition of a national series of medals than he was with the symbolism of the medals themselves.
In fact, government records show that practical concerns far overshadowed the symbolic aspects of the medal tradition. The most important consideration was who would engrave the president's portrait. For the Madison medals, the names of Hornton, Saint-Memin and Gilbert Stuart were among those considered. Ultimately, John Reich was utilized, with instructions to design a medal which would be solid (unlike the hollow Jeffersons) and with a legend that would not be defaced by the suspension hole. It was by no means certain that the Mint could or would produce the medals or even which office in Washington should be responsible for ordering them. The only certainty was that the Indian agents on the frontier were always in need of them and they were always late in arriving.
In spite of production problems, there is no question that both the Indians and the government considered the medals important. Thomas L. McKenney, head of the Indian Office, wrote to the Secretary of War in 1829 about the custom of awarding medals:
So important is its continuance esteemed to be that without medals, any plan of operation among the Indians, be it what it may, is essentially enfeebled. This comes of the high value which the Indians set upon these tokens of Friendship. They are, besides this indication of the Government Friendship, badges of power to them, and trophies of renown. They will not consent to part from this ancient right, as they esteem it; and according to the value they set upon medals is the importance to the Government in having them to bestow.
Unfortunately their increasing use as rewards for favors or for good behavior lessened their impact as symbols of leadership. This was obvious to many of the more experienced agents and explorers. A certain disillusionment was noted by some observers of the scene, as related in this letter from Lieutenant James Wilkinson, son of the commander of the U.S. Army, accompanying Zebulon Pike:
Indeed, sir, our grand medals have become so common, that they do not carry with them the respect which they should. I recollect one of the deputation who was at the seat of government, the year before the last, came out with a large medal, and an intermediate sized one. On our arrival at the villages, I calculated on his acting a conspicuous part, but to my utter astonishment, he was not permitted to sit among the chiefs or even the warriors at the council.
You will know, sir, how particular the Spaniards, and the British especially, have been in their distribution of medals, and if I mistake not, an Iowa chief, who had been to the seat of government, and there received a small medal, returned it in preference to giving up a large British medal, as he valued it more because it was a certain distinguishing mark of a chief.
As the Indian agents moved up the Missouri River and into the West, the medal policy was further weakened by unofficial medals distributed by traders. Under the relentless encroachment of white civilization the chiefs found their roles changing. Chief Smutty Bear, of the Yankton Sioux, complained to the agent:
We are called chiefs, but we are only chiefs in name. Our power has departed, we no longer have influence with our tribe. The young men are fools [who] have no ears for they no longer listen to us. . . . We were proud of [our medals]. They commanded respect and gave us influence with our people but the traders soon flooded the country with medals giving and selling them to the young men until they have quite all become chiefs and great men. They have refused to listen to our advice but do as they please. We have laid aside our medals as they are no longer of any use to us.
The Indian medal policy followed the expansion of the territories of trappers and farmers following the Civil War, although by this time there was nothing left of the original tradition. The Indian had simply faded from the mainstream of American consciousness. The tribes were no longer practically considered independent nations, and the years of competition for loyalty with the European powers were long past. There was no question that the United States was a world power and it had the military might to do as it wished between the two oceans. The medals were deliberately awarded to the multitudes, as Father Prucha pointed out:
To de-emphasize the importance of the chiefs and thus strike at the roots of tribalism, which many reformers came to consider a great obstacle in the acculturation of the Indians.
By 1859, the Indian was already sufficiently past history to earn a commemorative role on the Indian head cent. The great massacre of the centennial year would make headlines, and General Howard would chase Chief Joseph for many months, but the focus of American energies had shifted to the railroads, the steel mills, the grain towers, and the building of large cities.
While the last of the Indian peace medals were awarded in 1896, their demise is best illustrated by the story of Battist de Roin, an Oto Indian, who in 1887 petitioned the president for a medal, asserting that he was an Indian, not a half-breed, had always been friendly, was a Catholic and therefore was entitled to receive one. De Roin ultimately received his medal, on the condition that he was to reimburse the government $10.71 for its cost.