The general results of the comparison of Schoolcraft’s statements with what is now found show that he told the truth in substance, but with much exaggeration and coloring. The word “coloring” is particularly appropriate, because in his copious illustrations various colors were used freely and with apparent significance, whereas, in fact, the general rule in regard to the birch-bark rolls was that they were never colored at all; indeed, the bark was not adapted to coloration. The metaphorical coloring was also flourished by him in a manner which seems absurd to any thorough student of the Indian philosophy and religions. Metaphysical concepts are attached by him to some of the devices which he calls “symbols,” which could never have been entertained by a people in the stage of culture of the Ojibwa. While some symbolism, in the wide sense of the term, may be perceived, iconography and ideography are more apparent.
The largest part of the bark rolls and other pictographs of the Ojibwa obtained by the Bureau, relates to the ceremonies of the Midē' and of the shamanistic orders; another division refers to the Jessakid performances, which can be classed under the head of jugglery; and a third part embraces the more current and practical uses. Examples of all of these are given, infra.
The difficulties sometimes attending the pursuit of ceremonial pictographs were exemplified to the writer at Odanah, Wisconsin. Very few of the Ojibwa in that neighborhood, who are generally civilized and in easy circumstances, had any more than a vague knowledge that such things as inscribed bark rolls had ever existed. Three, however, were traced and one was shown. The owner, an uncompromising heathen, was called Kitche-sha-bads. “Kitche” means big, “sha” is an attempt at the French form of John, and “bads” is a bad shot at Baptiste, the whole translation, therefore, being “Big John the Baptist.” This old fellow, though by no means as enterprising or successful as some of the younger generation, had a snug house and farm and $300 in the savings bank at Ashland. One thing, however, he needed, viz, whisky. The strictest regulations prevailed on the reservation, really prohibitory to the introduction of spirits, and, indeed, there was at the nearest town, Ashland, a severe penalty for selling any form of liquor to an Indian. To obtain whisky, therefore, was the only consideration which would tempt him to allow a copy of the roll to be taken or by which he could be induced to recite or rather to chant it in the manner prescribed. He was undoubtedly accomplished in the knowledge of the Midē' rites, and the roll, which was shown in his hands, but not out of them, is substantially the same as one of those copied in the present work, which was discovered several hundred miles farther northwest among a different division of the same tribe. The shaman began rather mildly to plead that he was an old man and could not remember well unless his spirit was made good by a little whisky. This difficulty might have been obviated by a traveler’s pocket flask, but his demands increased with great rapidity. He said that the roll could only be sung at night, that he must have another old man to help him, and the old man must have whisky; then that there must be a number of young men, who would join in the chorus, and all the young men must have whisky too. These demands made it evident that he was intending to have a drunken orgy, which resulted in a cloture of the debate. And yet the idea of the old shaman was in its way correct. The ceremonial chants could be advantageously pronounced only under inspiration, which was of old obtained by a tedious form of intoxication, now expedited by alcohol.