CONCERNING OTHER PECULIARITIES OF THE ABIPONIAN
TONGUE.
At this moment, I am doubtful whether to call the language of the
Abipones a poor or a rich one: after I have told you what words they
want, and what they abound in, you yourself shall decide on this point.
The Abipones are destitute of some words which seem to be the elements
of daily speech. They, as well as the Guaranies, want the verb
substantive to be. They want the verb to have. They have no words
whereby to express _man_, _body_, _God_, _place_, _time_, _never_,
_ever_, _everywhere_, &c. which occur perpetually in conversation.
Instead of I am an Abipon, they say _Aỳ`m Abipon_, I Abipon; instead of
thou art a plebeian, _Akami Lanařaik_, thou plebeian. They often
substitute some neuter verb for an adjective and verb substantive, like
the Latins, who say _bene valeo_ as well as _sum sanus_. Thus, I am
strong, _Riahòt_, thou art strong, _Grihochi_, he is strong, _Yhòt_. I
am brave, _Riapòt_, thou art brave, _Grapochì_, he is brave, _Yapòt_. I
am fearful, _Riakalò_, thou art fearful, _Grakaloi_, he is fearful,
_Yakalò_. Let the Spaniard come, I shall be brave: _Tach hanék Kaámelk,
la riapotam_. See how well the Abipones do without the verb _to be!_ as
also the verb _to have_. I have many horses: _Ayte yla ahëpega_: many
horses mine. I have many fleas: _Netegink loapakate enò! Pop_. I have no
meat: _Chitkaeká lpabè_. I have no fishes: _Chigekoà nòayi_. _Hekà_ has
the same meaning with the Abipones that _datur_ or _suppetit_ has with
the Latins, _es giebet_ with the Germans, and _hay_ with the Spaniards.
_Chitkaekà_ is a negative, and signifies that there is no meat, fishes,
&c. In the plural number it changes to _chigekoà_. Is there food? _Meka
kanák?_
_Neogà_ means a day, and likewise time. _Grauek_, the moon, is taken for
a month. _Yñieřa_, the flower of the alfaroba, also denotes a year.
Hence, when they wish to ask any one how old he is, they say, How many
times has the alfaroba blossomed during your life-time? _Hegem leyera
yñiegari?_ which is a very poetical expression. For the body they name
the skin or bone, thus taking the part for the whole. _Yoalè_ means only
a husband; it is however used to signify a man. In the same way the
Guaranies use the word _Aba_, which denotes a husband, and the Guarany
nation, as they have no word for man. _Aba che_ has three meanings, I am
a _Guarany_, I am a _man_, or I am a _husband_; which of these is meant,
must be gathered from the tenor of the conversation. Perhaps there are
nowhere more virgins than in the country of the Abipones, yet they
cannot express a virgin except by a paraphrase, as _haayè_ simply means
a young girl. For never, they say _chik_ or _chit_, thus, I shall never
go hence: _Chik rihiukàm_. They more frequently say, _Chitlgihe
rihiukàm_. _Chitlgihe_ means, there appears no time in which I shall go
hence. They express _eternal_ by interminable, thus: Life eternal,
_Eleyřa chit kataikañi_, the life which is not finished. We used the
Spanish word for God, whose name they are ignorant of: _Dios_, _eknam
Kaógarik_, or _Naenatřanak hipigem, kachka aalò_. God, who is the maker
of all things, or the creator of heaven and earth. _Kauè_ signifies to
make; _Kaógarik_, a maker. They call eggs _Tetarik l'kauetè_, the hen's
work.
They cannot express _everywhere_ in one word, but explain it in this
way: God is in heaven, in earth, and there is not a place in which he is
not; _Menetahegem quem hipigém, menetañi quen aaloà, ka chigekòr amà,
chig enaè_. I omit innumerable other words which they want, but which
they make up for in various ways. Many things which we always express
with one and the same word, they distinguish with various names, or
entirely transform, by clothing the original word with new particles.
After having exposed the poverty of this language by examples, I ought
briefly to make you acquainted with its richness, in the same manner.
It contains an incredible number of synonymes, thus: _Kachergaik_,
_Kameřgaik_, _Kereřaik_, and _Laykamé_, all signify an old man.
_Elořaik_, _Egargaik_, _Ahamřaik_, and _Chitkaeka Lach_, dead.
_Nahamatřek_, _Nuichieřa_, _Noélakierek_, and _Anegla_, war.
_Kiñierat_, _Hanák_, _Nakà_, and _Naek_, food. _Lemařat_ and _Lapañik_,
the head. _Hipigem_ and _Ohajenk_, heaven. _Chigriařaik_, _Taagè_,
_Uriakà Ntà_, _Chig ñetun_, and _Akamitañi_, I know not, which last is
the same as if one should reply to a question, _Thou thyself know'st
it_, thus acknowledging his own ignorance. They sometimes repeat the
words of the interrogator, to show that they do not know what he asks
about. They call a wound generically _Lalaglet_. If it be inflicted by
the teeth of a man or a beast, they call it _Naagek_; if by a knife or a
sword, _Nichar̂hek_; if by a lance, _Noarek_; if by an arrow, _Nainek_.
_They fight_, if the kind of fight be not expressed, would be rendered
_Roélakitapegetà_; if they fight with spears, _Nahámretà_; if with
arrows, _Natenetápegetà_; if with fists, _Nemarketápegetà_; if with
words alone, _Ycherikáleretaà_; if two wives fight about their husband,
_Nejétentà_. They signify that a thing is ended or finished in divers
ways. The sickness is ended, would be rendered _Láyamini_; the rain, the
moon, the cold is ended, _Lánádmreuge neetè_, _grauek_, _latarà_; the
war is ended, _Nahálañi aneglà_; the Spanish soldiers are ended, that is
slaughtered; _Lanamichiriñi Kaáma yoalirípi_; my patience is ended,
_Lanámouge yapik_; the storm is ended, _Layamhà_; he hath ended his
office, his magistracy hath expired, _La yauerelgè_; end, or finish thy
work, _Grahálgali_, _laamachi graénategi_; now the thing is finished,
_Layam ayam_; at the end of the world, _Amla hanamřani_. If a battle is
fought with arrows, it is called _Noatařek_; if with spears,
_Noaařaranřek_, or _Nahamatřek_; if with fists alone, _Nemarketřek_.
This word reminds me of a ludicrous occurrence. A certain Bavarian
lay-brother of our's stayed some time in the new colony of St. Ferdinand
to build a hut for the Missionaries. Whilst he was employed in building,
he daily had the Abipones for spectators, and heard them talk, without
understanding a syllable of what they were saying. As he continually
caught the words _Nahamatřek_, _Noatařek_, and many others ending in
_třek_, one day at dinner he said to Father Joseph Brigniel, an
Austrian, with much simplicity, "Never trust me, if the language of the
Abipones isn't as like German as one egg is to another; I often hear
them say _Trek_, _Trek_."
The Abiponian tongue might not improperly be called the language of
circumstances, for it affixes various particles to words to denote
the various situations of the subject of discourse: either _hegem_,
above; _añi_, below; _aigìt_, around; _hagam_, in the water; _óuge_,
out of doors; _alge_, or _elge_, on the surface, &c. The thing will
be made plainer by examples: we use the same word _is_ when we say,
God _is_ in heaven, _is_ on earth, _is_ in the water, _is_ every
where. The Abipones always add some new particle to the verb, to
indicate situation, thus: _Dios menetahegem ken hipigèm_, God dwells
above in heaven: _menetañi ken aàloà_, dwells below in the earth:
_meñetahàgàm ken enařap_, dwells in the water, &c. Here the particles
_añi_, _hegem_, and _haganì_ are affixed to the verb _ménetá_. But
now attend to something else. How great is the variation of the verb
to follow[2]! I follow a person coming, _Hauíretaigìt_. I follow
one departing, _Hauiraà_. I follow with my hand what is beneath me,
_Hauirañì_, what is above me, _Hauirihegeméege_. I do not follow with
my eyes, _Chit heonáage_. I do not follow with my understanding,
(I do not comprehend,) _Chig ñetunêtaigìt_. I follow, I hit with
an arrow, _Ñaten_. Some going out follow others, _Yáueráatà_, or
_Yauirétapegetà_, I have followed, or perceived what another meditates
or purposes in his mind, _La hâui larenatřanřek lauel_. I have
followed or obtained what I desired, _La hâuì eka kan ahelřanřat
kiñi_. Hear other examples: I fear, _Rietachà_. I fear water,
_Rietachahagam_. It lightens, _Rkáhagelk_. It lightens afar off,
_Rkáhagelkátaigìt_. It shines, _Richàk_. It shines on the surface,
_Richákatalgè_. The brightness spreads wide, _Richakataugè_. I open the
door towards the street, _Hehòtouge lahàm_. I open the door towards the
window, _Hehòtoà lahàm_. If I should open two doors at the same time,
_Hehòtetelgè lahàm_. Shut the door, _Apëëgi lahàm_. I die, _Riigà_. I
am dying, _Riigarari_, I die of suffocation, _Riigarañi_, &c. &c.
Footnote 2:
_Assequor._
We now come to speak of other particles, the use of which is very
frequent amongst the Abipones.
They prefix _là_, now, to almost all words. Now the old woman weeps, _Là
reòkatarì cachergayè_. Now I am terrified, _Là rielk_. Now I drink, _Là
nañam_.
_Tapek_, or _Tari_, annexed to the last syllable of a verb, denote an
action which is undertaken now: _Hakiriogřan_, I plough land.
_Hakiriogřanetapek_, now, whilst I speak, I am ploughing. _Haoachin_, I
am sick. _Haoachinetari_, I am sick at this very time.
_Kachit_, I make. _Ařaiřaik ahëpegak_, a tame horse. _Ařaiřaikachit
ahëpegak_, I make a horse tame. _Riélk_, I fear. _Riélkachìt
nihìrenàk_, a tiger put me in fear. _Ayerhègemegè_, a high thing.
_Ayercachihègemegè_, I make a thing high, I put it in a high place.
_Řat_, or _řan_ has the same signification as the former in certain
verbs. _Rpaè enařap_, hot water. _Hapaeřat enařap_, I heat water.
_Laà_, great, large. _Laařařat_, I increase. _Lenechi_, little, small.
_Lenechitařat_, I diminish. _Haoatè_, I sleep. _Haoacheřan akíravàlk_,
I make a little infant sleep.
_Ken_ denotes custom or habit. _Roélakikèn_, he is accustomed to fight.
_Aagè_ affixed to the substantives _Lahërek_, work, or _Yaářaiřèk_,
knowledge, likewise denotes custom. _Nèoga latènk nañametapek_;
_gramackka lahërekaage_, or _Mat yaářaiřèk aage_, he drinks all day:
this, to wit, is his occupation; it is his knowledge; in a word his
custom.
_It_ signifies the material of which any thing is made. _Nichigeherit_
is a cloak made of otters' skins, for _Níchigehè_ is the Abiponian for
otter. _Káepèrit_, a place fortified with stakes fixed in the earth,
(which the Spaniards call _la palisada_, or _estacada_,) _káepak_,
signifying wood.
_Hat_ indicates the native soil of certain trees, or fruits.
_Nebokehat_, a wood where palms grow. _Neboke_ is a kind of palm.
_Nemelkehat_, a field sowed with wheat, which is called _nemelk_. The
Guaranies make use of the same compendious expression, substituting _ti_
for the particle _hat_, thus: _Abati_, maize. _Abatiti_, a maize-field.
_Petí_, tobacco. _Petíndi_, a place where tobacco is grown. For the sake
of the euphony, to which the Guaranies are particularly attentive, _ndi_
is substituted for _ti_.
_Ik._ The names of almost all trees end in this syllable. _Apèhe_, the
fruit chañar. _Apehìk_, the tree. _Oaik_, the white alfaroba. _Roak_,
the red. The trees which produce it, _Oáikik_, and _Roaikik_. Though the
alfaroba is also called _Hamáp_.
_Řeki_ signifies the vessel, place, or instrument in which any thing is
shut up, kept, or contained. _Nařamřeki_, a cup, from _nañàm_, I
drink. _Neetřki_ signifies the same thing: for _ñeèt_ and _nañàm_ are
synonimous. _Katařanřeki_, an oven, a chafing-dish, from _Nkáatèk_,
fire. _Keyeeřánřekì_, a tub in which clothes are washed with soap, for
_keyařanřàt_ is their word for soap.
_Laỳt_ has almost the same signification as the former particle.
_Yabogék laỳt_, a snuff-box, _yabogék_ being Abiponian for snuff.
_Ahëpegrlaỳt_, a fold for horses.
_Lanà_ is a very useful word, and often serves as a sacred anchor, which
beginners, slightly acquainted with the language, catch hold of to make
themselves understood. It means that which is the instrument, means, or
part of performing any thing. This shall be elucidated by examples. The
Abipones constantly chew tobacco leaves mixed with salt, and the saliva
of old women, calling it medicine. They come at all hours, and say,
_Tach kaûe Paỳ npeetèk yoetà_: Father, give me tobacco leaves, my
medicine. Having obtained this, they presently add, _Tach kaûe
achibiřaik noetà lanà_,: Give me also salt, which serves to compose
this medicine. Another comes and says: _Tachkaûe latařan lpahè lanà_:
Give me a knife to cut my meat with, or _Tachkaûe këëpe yëëriki lanà_:
Give me an axe to build my house with. Persons better acquainted with
the language generally abstain from the use of this word _lanà_, in
place of which they make noun substantives of verbs, by which the
instrument or means of doing a thing is admirably expressed. Thus,
_Noetarèn_, I am healed. _Noetarenátařanřát_, medicine.
_Noetaranatařankatè_, a medical instrument. _Hakiriogran_, I plough.
_Kiriogrankatè_, a plough. _Ñahategřan_, I shear. _Ahategkatè_,
scissars, or snuffers, which, as it were, shear the wick. _Géhayà_, I
behold. _Geharlatè_, a looking-glass. _Rietachà_, I fear.
_Netachkatřanřat_, an instrument of terror. They facetiously call
remarkably ugly faces by this name as if they were a terror to the eyes.
_Latè_, indicates the place of action, thus: _Nahamátřalatè_, the place
of the fight. _Kiñieřalatè_, the place where one eats, that is, the
table.
They ingeniously invented names borrowed from their native tongue, for
things introduced from Europe, or made by Europeans. They did not like
either to appear poor in words, or to contaminate their language by
adopting foreign ones, like the other Americans who borrow words from
the Spaniards. Horses, which the Spaniards call _cavallos_, the
Guaranies call _cavayù_, and oxen, which the Spaniards call _nobillos_,
they call _nobì_. The Abipones, on the contrary, call a horse
_ahëpegak_, an ox, _ỳúihàk_, and a bull, _ỳúihàk lepà_, an uncastrated
ox, a name derived from their own language, though, before the coming of
the Spaniards, they were unacquainted with these animals. They call a
church _loakal lëëriki_, the house of images, or _natamenřeki_, where
thanks are given to God. A gun is expressed by _netelřanře_, which
means a bow from which arrows are cast. Perhaps it is derived from the
word _neetè_, a storm, because a gun resembles the thundering of a
storm. Gunpowder is called _netelřanřre leenřra_, the flour of the
gun; a book, _lakatka_, which means a word, tongue, speech. They call a
letter, or any sheet with letters written or printed on it, _elorka_, by
which name they also designate the otters' skins painted by women with
red lines of various forms, of which cloaks are made to keep out the
cold. They call water-melons, _Kaáma lakà_, the food of the Spaniards.
They express a soul, a shadow, echo, and an image, all by the same word,
_loákal_, or _lkihì_. The Latins also used the word _imago_, for an
echo. Valerius Flaccus, in the third book of the Argonautics, says:
_Rursus Hylam, et fursus Hylam per longa reclamat
Avia, responsant sylvæ, et vaga certat imago._
Echo is a representation of voice, as an image is that of the figure.
Cotton, the material of which cloth is made, they call _aapařaik_,
cloth; wheat, _etantà lpetà_, the grain of bread; and bullets,
_netelr̃anře lpetà_, the grain of the gun, or _Káamà lanařha_, the
arrows of the Spaniards. A lute or harp is called _liûigi_, which means
the loins of an animal; all metals, _lekàt_, and silver money,
_lekacháole_, little metals; hell, _aalò labachiñi_, the centre of the
earth, or _Keevét lëëriki_, the devil's house; a shirt, _yelamřkie_;
stockings or boots, _lichil lelamřkiè_; breeches, _ykiemařha_; shoes,
_yachrhářlatè_; a hat, _ñoarà_; a fillet, mitre, or any covering of the
head, _yetapehè_; glass-beads, _ekelřaye_. I omit the rest.
Metaphors are familiar to these savages. When they have the head-ache
they cry _Là ỳívíchigi yemařat_, now my head is angry. When fatigued
with manual labour, _Là ỳívíchigi yauigřa_, now my blood is angry, they
exclaim with a smile. When in anger, they say, _Là ànahegem yauel_, now
my heart hath risen. When impatient at any inconvenience, they
vociferate: _Là lanamouge yapìk_, now my patience is ended, now I will
bear this no longer.
Although the Guaranies and many other people of America have none but
post-positions in their language, the Abipones use prepositions
likewise. Thus the Guaranies, in making the sign of the cross, say:
_Tuba haè layřa, hae Espiritu Santo rera pĭpe_. Amen. In the name of
the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. For _pĭpe_
means _in_, and _rera name_ with them. The Abipones, on the contrary,
say: _Men lakalátoèt Netà, kat Náitařat, kachka Espiritu Santo_. Amen.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, &c. _Men_ signifying _in_,
and _lakalátoèt_, a _name_. _Men_, _mek_, _kèn_, or _en kerà_, signifies
_in_ or _at_, either with or without motion. _Men aaloa_, _men hipigem_,
in the earth, in heaven. _Lahik ken nepàrk_, now I go to the plain. _Là
rihi mek Kaáma loetà_, now I remove to the lands of the Spaniards. They
are unacquainted with the preposition _with_ which denotes society: they
would express the sentence, I will go with thee, in this manner:
_Grahauitapekam_, I will accompany thee: or thus, _Là me? Clachkehin_,
wilt thou go away? I also. The Lord with thee: _Dios Gnoakàra
hiñitařoat_; The Lord is associated with thee. _Haraà_ is a preposition
signifying the instrument with which a thing is done. _Yóale yahámat
nihirenak naraà lohélete_: The Indian killed the tiger with a spear.
_Yágàm_ means, as, or like, _Roahà ỳágàm netegink_: He attacks like a
dog.
Adjectives themselves are generally used instead of adverbs; both,
according as they relate to past, or future, are variously inflected,
like verbs: thus, _ariaik_ and _neèn_ signify both good and well. _Kemen
ariaik kàn!_ how good, or how well he was. _Kàn_ is the sign of the past
tense. _Ariaekam_, it will be good or well. _Am_ is the sign of the
future, and _kitè_ means now. _Kitekàn_, it was now. _Kitàm_, it shall
be now presently. If you wish to enquire about a thing past, you must
say: _hegmalagè_, when? If about a future thing, _hegmalkàm_. For the
past, they will answer, _nehegetoè_, long since; _hákekemàt_, now, at
this point of time; _chigahák_, not yet; _kitnéoga_, to day;
_kitnénegin_, or _kitnehaól_, this night; _gnaàma_, yesterday. For the
future, _amà_, _amlayeřge_, _chitlkihe_, after a long interval of time;
_amlà_, afterwards; _am richigni_, to morrow; _amékére láhaua_, the day
after to-morrow; _am náama_, in the evening. _And_ is expressed by
_Rachka_, _Rack_, or _Rat_, according to the letters that follow. All
universally call no, _ynà_: but yes is expressed variously, according to
the age and sex of the speaker. Men and youths say, _héé_; all women,
_hàà_. Old men affirm by a loud snort, which can only be expressed _vivâ
voce_, though you could not do it easily and clearly without danger of
hoarseness. The louder the snort the stronger the affirmation.
_Eùrigri_, _eòrat_, and _miekaenegen_, mean why, for what reason. _Miéka
énegen nkaué, nauichi enà?_ What was the reason that you came? _Men_ is
a particle of interrogation, having the same signification as the Latin
_an_. _Men leerà?_ Is it true? _Klerà_, it is certain. _Chigera_, it is
not true. Or if they doubt of the truth of the thing, they will reply,
_Eùriñigi_. Sometimes, when they suspect another of relating what is not
true, they join the past with the future, and ironically say, _Kánigra
leeràm_, formerly, that will be true. _Kánigra_ is the past, and
_leeràm_ the future.
The letter _M_ prefixed to a word denotes interrogation, thus: _M'ayte
nauachieka?_ Are there many soldiers? _M'oachiñi_, Art thou sick? If the
first letter following M be a consonant or an H, it is dropped,
_M'anekam ena?_ Will he come hither? The H is entirely omitted in the
verb _hanekám_, will he come, and it is pronounced _manekám_. _Mauichi
kenà?_ Hast thou come hither? The letter _N_ is dropped in the verb
_nauichi_, and _M_ substituted, so that it is called _mauichi_. _Mik_
alone, or _mik mich_, are forms of interrogation; as _Mik mich
grihochi?_ Art thou in good health? Sometimes an interrogation is
expressed by the accent alone, and by the raising of the voice. _Layàm
nauichi?_ Art thou come at length? _Origeenu_ and _morigi_ are words of
interrogation, expressing, at the same time, doubt: _Morigi npágàk
oenèk?_ Perhaps the youth is ashamed? _Hegmi hínnerkam?_ What is it
after all? _Orkeénum_, I do not know what it can be.
_Latàm_ means almost. _Latàm riýgerañi_: He was very near being drowned.
_Latàm riahámat ỳúihàk_: the ox had almost killed me. _Yt_, or _ych_,
means only, alone. _Tachkaûe yt lenechiavàlk_: Give me only a little of
any thing. _Mat_, or _gramachka_, means lastly. They use this word, in
affirming any thing with serious asseveration, or with boasting.
_Gramachka Abipon yapochì_; lastly the Abipones are brave. _Eneha mat
yoale_: this, lastly, is the man. _Chik_, _chit_, and _chichi_, are
words of prohibition, as _ne_ with the Latins. _Chik grakalakitřani_:
Thou shouldst not doubt. _Chichi noaharegřani_: Thou shouldst not lie.
_Klatùm keèn_ means although, and _oagan_, yet, however. _Eneha klatùm
keèn èúének, oagan netackaik_: Though this man is beautiful, yet he is
cowardly. _Tán_ means _because_, and _máoge_, therefore. _Tán aỳte
apatáye ken nepark, máoge chik ààtèkan_: Because there are many gnats in
the plain, therefore I have not slept. _Men_, _men_, mean as, so. _Men
netà, men naetařat_, As the father, so the son.
They have various exclamations of wonder, grief, joy, &c. _Kemen apalaik
akami!_ How stingy and tenacious of thy own property thou art! _Kemén
naáchik_, or _Kîmilî naáchik!_ Oh! how useful this will be to me! is
their way of thanking you for a gift; for neither the Abipones nor
Guaranies have any word whereby to express thanks. What wonder, since
gratitude is unknown, even by name, among them, that they do not display
it their actions? For, as some one observed, they think benefits like
flowers—only pleasant as long as they are fresh. One repulse entirely
effaces the memory of former benefits from the minds of the Indians. The
Guaranies, on receiving a gift, use the same phrase, and say,
_Aquiyebete ângà_: This will be useful to me. The Abipones, after
obtaining what they ask, sometimes thanked the giver with nothing but
the word _Kliri_: This is what I wanted. In wonder or compassion, they
exclaim, _Kem ekemat!_ _Ta yeegàm!_ or _Ndřè!_ (which they usually say
when astonished at any sudden novelty,) and _Tayretà!_ Oh! the poor
little thing!
But these examples are sufficient to show you the asperities,
difficulties, and strange construction of the Abiponian tongue. Were I
to embrace every thing necessary to the thorough understanding of it, I
should fill a volume. Father Joseph Brigniel, the first civilizer of
that nation, was also the first to turn his attention towards learning,
and afterwards explaining this language. He translated the chief heads
of religion, and the regular church prayers, into the Abiponian tongue,
for the use of the whole nation. It is incredible what pains he took in
this study; and his patience, and the retentiveness of his memory, were
absolutely iron. Though he spoke Latin, German, French, Italian, and
Spanish, as well as the language of the Guaranies, whose apostle he had
formerly been, with elegance and fluency, being well versed in six
different languages, yet he found it a difficulty to gain even a
smattering of the Abiponian tongue. He left no stone unturned to fish
out the names of things, and the inflexions, and force of the words. But
though he was extremely eager to obtain a knowledge of the language, and
spared no pains in the pursuit, masters and books were both wanting.
There were, indeed, Spaniards who, having been taken captives by the
Abipones in their boyhood, had learnt the Abiponian tongue, but they had
generally forgotten the language of their own country; while those who
fell in captivity amongst the savages, after they had grown up, had
learnt their language so ill that they scarce spoke a word without
blundering. By degrees they forget their own language, but are incapable
of properly acquiring any other. The same may be said in regard to the
Abipones, who have returned to their own people after being for some
time captives amongst the Spaniards. You will, therefore, sooner learn
to err than to speak from the captives. But if we were able to hire any
one of them to instruct us who was tolerably well acquainted with both
languages, Good heavens! what troubles had we not to undergo! When asked
what the Abipones called such or such a thing, he would reply in so low
and dubious a tone, that we were not able to distinguish a syllable, or
even a letter. If we asked him to repeat the same word two or three
times over, he grew angry, and would not speak. Scarce was the hour of
instruction ended, when he required the reward for the few words he has
pronounced: one day a knife; the next a pair of scissars; the next
glass-beads; the next something of more value. If we denied him what he
asked, he would never visit us again; if we gave it, he was daily
emboldened to ask things of still more value. Great is the misery of the
scholar when masters are either scarce or too dear. I do not deny that,
by daily conversation with the Indians, I learnt the names of those
things which are present to the eyes; but invisible things, which relate
to God and the soul, can only be learnt by conjecture and very long use.
When horses, tigers, or arms, are talked of, you will find any of the
Abipones a Demosthenes or a Tully: if the question turn on the
affections and functions of the mind, and the practice of virtue, they
will either give you answers darker than night, or remain silent.
When we were studying the Guarany tongue, grammars and three
dictionaries were published by Fathers Antonio Ruiz de Montoya, and
Paulo Restivo, a Sicilian, which saved us a great deal of time and
labour. By their assistance our progress was so much accelerated that,
at the end of three months, we were permitted to confess the Guaranies
by order of four of the older Jesuits, who, at the command of the
superiors, closely examined our knowledge in the language. But as the
assistance of books was wanting amongst the Abipones, Joseph Brigniel
made up for the deficiency by all possible arts and industry. If any new
word or elegance could be gathered from the conversation of the savages,
he carefully wrote it down, and at length composed a dictionary, which,
in course of time, grew to a hundred and fifty sheets. It was afterwards
copied out, corrected, and considerably enriched by members of our
society. It is easy to add to what is begun; for the successors, sitting
on the shoulders of those that preceded them, see farther, and more than
they. Pizarro penetrated into Peru, and Cortez into Mexico, but not till
Columbus, who first saw America, had shown them the way. The Jesuit
Brigniel first discovered the track to be pursued amid the dim shades of
a savage language, made himself a guide to the rest, and, to express
myself in few words, merits eternal fame for having kindled a light
amidst darkness, by pointing out the rude lineaments of grammar rules.
The Abiponian language is involved in new difficulties by a ridiculous
custom which the savages have of continually abolishing words common to
the whole nation, and substituting new ones in their stead. Funeral
rites are the origin of this custom. The Abipones do not like that any
thing should remain to remind them of the dead. Hence appellative words
bearing any affinity with the names of the deceased are presently
abolished. During the first years that I spent amongst the Abipones, it
was usual to say _Hegmalkam kahamátek?_ When will there be a
slaughtering of oxen? On account of the death of some Abipon, the word
_kahamátek_ was interdicted, and, in its stead, they were all commanded,
by the voice of a cryer, to say, _Hegmalkam négerkatà_? The word
_nihirenak_, a tiger, was exchanged for _apañigehak_; _peûe_, a
crocodile, for _kaeprhak_, and _Kaáma_, Spaniards, for _Rikil_, because
these words bore some resemblance to the names of Abipones lately
deceased. Hence it is that our vocabularies are so full of blots,
occasioned by our having such frequent occasion to obliterate
interdicted words, and insert new ones. Add to this another thing which
increases the difficulty of learning the language of the Abipones.
Persons promoted to the rank of nobles are called _Hëcheri_, and
_Neleřeycatè_, and are distinguished from the common people even by
their language. They generally use the same words, but so transformed by
the interposition, or addition of other letters, that they appear to
belong to a different language. The names of men belonging to this
class, end in _In_; those of the women, who also partake of these
honours, in _En_. These syllables you must add even to substantives and
verbs in talking with them. The sentence, This horse belongs to Captain
Debayakaikin, would be rendered by an Abipon, speaking the vulgar
tongue, in this manner: _Eneha ahëpegak Debayakaikin lela_. But in the
language of the Hëcheri you must say, _Debayakaikin lilin_. They salute
a plebeian with _Là nauichi?_ Art thou come? to which he replies _Là
ñauè_, I am come. If a noble person is addressed, he must be saluted in
these words: _La náuirin_, Art thou come? and he, with much importance,
and pompous modulation of his voice, will reply, _Là ñauerinkie_, I am
come. Moreover, they have some words peculiar to themselves, by which
they supersede those in general use. Thus, the common people call a
mother, _Latè_, the nobles, _Lichiá_. The former call a son _Laétařat_,
the latter _Illalèk_, not to mention other instances. Both in the
explanation of religion, and in common conversation, we chose to use the
vulgar tongue, because it was understood by all.
I have said that there are three kinds of Abipones, the _Riikahes_, the
_Nakaikétergehes_, and the _Yaaukanigas_. All of them, however, speak
the same language; all understand each other, and are understood. Yet
each of these classes has some words peculiar to itself. The Riikahes
call gnats _ayte_; the Nakaiketergehes _apatáye_. Both names are
extremely suitable to gnats, for _ayte_ means many, and _apatáye_ is
derived from _napàta_, a mat, which they use to cover their tents with;
and so great is the multitude of gnats in the lands of the Abipones that
the inhabitants seem not only covered but oppressed by them. To drink
with the Riikahes is expressed by _neèt_, with the Nakaiketergehes by
_nañàm_. The latter call a head _Lapañik_, the former _Lemařat_. The
Yaaucanigas, in the use of words, sometimes imitate one, sometimes the
other; but in a few they differ from both. The rest call the moon
_Grauèk_, but they, by antonomasia, name it _Eergřaik_, a star. The
rainbow is called by the rest, _Oáhetà_, but by the Yaaucanigas,
_Apich_. But this variety creates neither difficulty nor wonder. The
Teutonic language is used by many nations, but how greatly does it
differ in different provinces, not only in dialect but also in words!
How different is Tuscan from the languages spoken at Milan, Savoy, and
Venice! How different is Castilian from the languages of Arragon,
Andalusia, Navarre, and Valencia!