An Account of the Abipones, an Equestrian People of Paraguay, (2 of 3)

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 follow2! 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.

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.