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

They form diminutives, by adding avàlk, aole, or olek, to the last syllable of the word, thus: Ahëpegak, a horse. Ahëpegeravàlk, a little horse, Óénèk, a boy. Óénèkavàlk, a little boy. Haáye, a girl. Haayáole, a little girl. Paỳ, father, a word for priest, introduced into America by the Portugueze. Payolék, little father, which they used when they wished to express particular kindness towards us. When angry, they only used the word Paỳ. Kàëpak, wood. Kàëperáole, a little piece of wood, by which they designated the beads of the rosary. Lenechì, little, moderate. Lénechiólek, or Lenechiavàlk. They make very frequent use of diminutives, which, with them, indicate either tender affection or contempt: thus, Yóale, a man. Yoaleólek, a little man, a bit of a man. Often with them a diminutive is a stronger expression of love or praise than any superlative: thus, they call a stronger or handsomer horse than ordinary, Ahëpegeravàlk. The Spaniards too express a more particular liking for a thing, when they call it bonito, than when they simply call it bueno, good or pretty.

Most of the American nations are extremely deficient in words to express number. The Abipones can only express three numbers in proper words. Iñitára, one. Iñoaka, two. Iñoaka yekainì, three. They make up for the other numbers by various arts: thus, Geyenk ñatè, the fingers of an emu, which, as it has three in front and one turned back, are four, serves to express that number. Neènhalek, a beautiful skin spotted with five different colours, is used to signify the number five. If you interrogate an Abipon respecting the number of any thing, he will stick up his fingers, and say, leyer iri, so many. If it be of importance to convey an accurate idea of the number of the thing, he will display the fingers of both hands or feet, and if all these are not sufficient, show them over and over again till they equal the number required. Hence Hanámbegem, the fingers of one hand means five; Lanám rihegem, the fingers of both hands, ten; Lanam rihegem, cat gracherhaka anámichirihegèm, the fingers of both hands and both feet, twenty. They have also another method of making up for want of numbers. When they return from an excursion to hunt wild horses, or shoot tame ones, none of the Abipones will ask them how many horses have you brought home? but, how much space will the troop of horse which you have brought home occupy? to which they will reply, the horses placed in a row would fill the whole market-place, or they extend from this grove to the river's bank. With this reply, which gives them an idea of the quantity of horses, they remain satisfied, though uninformed of the exact number. Sometimes they take up a handful of sand or grass, and showing it to the interrogator, endeavour in this way to express an immense quantity. But when number is spoken of, take care you do not readily credit whatever the Abipones say. They are not ignorant of arithmetic, but averse to it. Their memory generally fails them. They cannot endure the tedious process of counting. Hence to rid themselves of questions on the subject, they show as many fingers as they like, sometimes deceived themselves, sometimes deceiving others. Often, if the number about which you ask exceeds three, an Abipon, to save himself the trouble of showing his fingers, will cry Pòp! many. Chic leyekalipì, innumerable. Sometimes, when ten soldiers are coming, the assembled people will exclaim, Yoaliripì latenk naúeretápek, a very great number of men are approaching.

But still greater is their want of numerals, which grammarians call ordinals, for they cannot count beyond first: Era námachìt, the first. So that the Ten Commandments are reckoned in this way: the first commandment, Era námachìt, but as they are unable to express second, third, fourth, in their language, instead of these numbers, they place before the commandments, and another, and another, &c. Cat laháua, cat laháua, &c. They have, however, words signifying first and last, Enàm cahèk, that which goes before, and Iñagehék, that which comes last.

They have only two distributive numerals: each Iñitarapè, and Iñóakatapè, which answers to the Latin, bini. Liñoaka yahat, means twice. Ekátarapek, and sometimes Haûe ken, once. This is the extent of the Abiponian arithmetic, and the whole of their scanty supply of numbers. Scarce richer are the Guarany Indians, who cannot go beyond the number four. They call One, Petey̆. Two, Mokoy̆. Three, Mbohapĭ. Four, Irundy̆. First, Iyipĭbae. Second, Imomokoyndaba. Third, Imombohapĭhaba. Fourth, Imoimrundy̆haba. 1Singuli, Petey̆tey̆. Bini, Mokoy̆mokoy̆. Terni, Mbohápĭhapĭ. Quaterni, Irundy̆ rundy̆. Once, Petey̆ yebĭ. Twice, Mokoy̆ yebi, &c. The Guaranies, like the Abipones, when questioned respecting a thing exceeding four, immediately reply, Ndipapahabi, or Ndipapahai, innumerable. But as a knowledge of numbers is highly necessary in the uses of civilized life, and above all, in confession, the Guaranies were daily taught at church to count in the Spanish language, in the public explanation, or recitation of the catechism. On Sunday, the whole people used to count from one to a thousand, in the Spanish tongue, in the church. But it was all in vain. Generally speaking, we found the art of music, painting, and sculpture, easier learnt than numbers. They can all pronounce the numbers in Spanish, but are so easily and frequently confused in counting, that you must be very cautious how you credit what they say in this matter.

For the conjugation of verbs, no paradigm can be given; as the singular number of the present tense of the indicative mood differs in almost all words, and is more difficult to learn than the augments of the Greek verbs. The second person particularly takes new letters, not only in the beginning, but also in the middle, and the end, as will appear from the examples which I shall lay before you.

But these few are sufficient to show the infinite changes of almost all verbs. I refrain from giving more examples which I have in my head; for it is not my intention to teach you the Abiponian language, but to show you the strange construction of it, and to avoid fatiguing your ears with so many long savage words. From the little which I have written, you will collect that the inflexions and variations of the second person in particular can only be learnt by use, not by rules. The other tenses of the indicative mood, and indeed all the moods of every conjugation, give little trouble to learners, being formed simply by adding a few syllables, or particles, to the present of the indicative: for instance: —

Present tense. Rikapit, I love.

The imperfect is wanting.

Preterite. Rikapit kan, or kanigra, I have loved.

Preterpluperfect. Kánigra gehe rikapit, I had loved formerly.

Future. Rikapitàm, I will love.

You add the same particles to the second and third persons, without changing them in any other respect: thus —

Grkapichi, thou lovest.

Grkapichi kan, thou hast loved.

Grkapichi kanigra gehe, thou hadst loved.

Grkapichiam, thou wilt love.

For the syllable am is what distinguishes the present from the future.

The imperative mood undergoes no mutation either in the present or future tense. Thus, hasten thou; Grahálgalí, which is also the second person of the indicative, thou hastenest. Eichi, do thou: Grkapichi, love thou: or Grkapichiam, which likewise signifies thou wilt love. They sometimes prefix the particle Tach to the second person of the imperative, and Ták to the third: thus Tach grahápichì obey thou. Tach grakatřani, say thou. Ták hanek, let him come: which also denotes the present of the potential; thus: Ták hanek Kaámelk, the Spaniard may come for me. Prohibition is expressed by the future with the addition of the particle tchik or chigè, according to the following letter. Thus, thou mayst not kill, Chit kahamatrañiam. Thou mayst not lie, Chit Noaharegraniam.

The optative, or subjunctive, is formed of various particles, placed before or after the present of the indicative: as I shall show by examples.

Chigriek, would that. Chigriek grkapichi g'Dios eknam caogarik: Would that thou wouldst love God the Creator. Kët, if. Kët greenřani, G'Dios grkapichi kët: If thou wert good thou wouldst love God. Kët, if, is repeated both in the condition and the conditionated.

Amla, after that. Amla grkapichi g`Dios, Dios `lo nkapíchieřoám: After thou hast loved God, God will love thee. Postquam amaveris Deum, Thus amabit te.

Ehenhà, until. Ehenhà na chigrkápichi g'Dios, chitl gihè groamketápekàm: Until, or as long as thou dost not love God, thou wilt never be quiet. Donec vel quamdiu non amaveris Deum, non eris unquam quietus.

Amamach, when. Amamach rikápichieřoa, lo grkápichioam: When thou lovest me, I will love thee. Quando amaveris me, amabo te.

Kët mat, if. Kët mat nkápichirioà, là rikapitla kët: If they had loved me, I would have loved them. Si amassent me, amassem illos.

Tach, that. Tach grkápichioa, rikapichieřoàm: Love me, that I may love thee. Ama me, ut amem te.

The Abipones seem to want the infinitive, the place of which they supply in other ways, as I shall more plainly show by examples, thus: now I wish to eat: Là rihete m'hakéñe. Rihe, or rihete, I wish, and hakéñe, I eat, are both put in the same mood, tense, and person; the letter M placed between them makes, or supplies the place of our infinitive. I cannot go, Haoahen m'ahik. Haoahen and ahik, are both in the first person of the present of the indicative, M only being placed between. Thou knowest not how to teach me: Chig graařaige m'riapa grañi. Wilt thou be baptized, or, as the Abipones say, wilt thou have thy head washed? Mik mich grehech m'nakarigi gremarachi?

They elude the necessity of an infinitive, of gerunds, and supines, by various modes of speech peculiar to themselves. It may be as well to illustrate this by some examples. When we say, Can I go? an Abipon would express it in this way: I will go. There is no difficulty, or is there any difficulty? Lahikam. Chigeeka loaik, or Mañigà loaik? Thou oughtest to go, an Abipon would render thus: Yoamkatà kët, lame: It is right that thou shouldest go. Thou oughtest not to go, or it is not convenient: Mich grehech m'amè? oagan chik yoamk: Wilt thou go? though that is not convenient. How skilful this man is in swimming! an Abipon would express thus: What a swimmer this man is! Kemen álařankachak yóale! I shall be strong by eating: Rihotam am hakeñe: I shall be strong whilst I eat. I come to speak to thee: Hëëchiapegrari; kleranam kaúe, la nauè: I will speak to thee; that was the reason why I came now. The boy is wont to tell lies: La noaharegřan kén oenek. The particles kén and aage signify custom. An Abipon would also express the above sentence in this way: Noaharegřan oenek: la lahërek: The boy tells lies: now it is his custom. I am accustomed to pray: Klamach hanáyaagè m'hëëtoalá.

The passive voice in affirming has no particular form, but is expressed by some passive participle, or by active verbs. When we say that a thing is lost or ended, they say that the thing has perished, ceased, does not appear, &c. Yúihak oaloà, or chitlgihe: The ox hath perished, or does not appear. In denying, the passive is explained by an active verb only, with the addition of the particle chigat, or chigíchiekat: thus: It is not known: Chigat yaraigè. Yaraigè is the indicative mood, present tense, third person singular, of the active verb. That is not eaten: Chigat yaìk. That is not usurped: Chigat eygà. I was not informed: Chigat ripachigui. The horses were not well guarded, therefore they perished: Machka chigat nkehayape enò ahëpega, maoge oaloéra. The stars cannot be counted: Chigichiekat nakatñi eeřgřae. What is not known, ought not to be told. Am chigat yaraige, chigichiekat yaratapekam, &c.

Of many active verbs, both active, and passive, but not future participles are formed. Rikapit, I love, amo. From it are formed: Ykapicher̂, beloved by me, or my beloved; a me amatus, meus amatus. Grkapicheřachi, thy beloved, tuus amatus. Lkapicheřat, his beloved: suus amatus. From this comes the feminine. Ykapichkatè, my beloved; mea amata. Grkapichkachi, thy beloved; tua amata. Lkapichkatè, his beloved, illius amata. I am beloved by all; ego sum amatus ab omnibus: Lkapicheraté Kenoataoge. From this participle are derived, Kapicheřa, love, amor. Ykapicheřa, my love; amor meus. Kapichieraik, loving, a lover, amans, amator.

Rikaùagè, I pity, I feel a kindness for any one. Its passive participle is, Ykáuagřat, kindly affected by me. Substantive, Ykaúgřa, my good-will. Kauagřankatè, the instrument, manner, or place of good-will, or the benefit itself. Kauagřankachak, benevolent, compassionate. Ykaúagek, kindly regarded by me. Grkaúagigì, kindly regarded by thee.

Hapagřanatřan, I teach. Napagřanatřanak, the master who teaches. Napagřanatek, the scholar who is taught. Napagřanatřanřek, teaching, instruction. Napagřanatrankatè, the place where, or the matter which the scholar is taught.

We now enter a labyrinth of the Abiponian tongue, most formidable to learners, where, unless guided by long experience, as Theseus was by Ariadne, you will not be able to walk without risk of error. I am speaking of those verbs which grammarians call transitive, or reciprocal. In our language, the action of one person, or thing, upon another, is easily described by the pronouns themselves, I, thou, he, we, you. The Abipones, on the contrary, neglecting the use of the above pronouns, effect this by various inflections of the verbs, and by here and there combining new particles with them. This shall be made plainer by examples. I love thee, thou lovest me, he loves me or thee. We love him, ye love us or them. The Latins, in this manner, express mutual love, to which purpose the Abipones use much circumlocution, and various artifices, thus: Rikapit, I love. Rikapichieřou, I love thee. Grkapichioà, thou lovest me. Nkapichioà, he loves me. Nkapichieřoà, he loves thee. Grkapitaè, we love him. Grkapitla, we love them. Matníkapitalta, I love myself. Nikapichialta, thou lovest thyself. Grkapitáatá, we love one another. But would that this were a paradigm of all the verbs! Others take other particles, and changes of syllables, thus:

Rikauagè, I pity. Rikauágyégarigè, I pity thee. Grkauagiygè, thou pitiest me. Grkauág yegarik, thou pitiest us. Nkauágigyè, he pities me. Nkauág yegarigé, he pities thee. Nkaúagegè, he pities him. Grkaúagekápegetaá, we pity one another. Ñikaúakáltaá, I pity myself.

Hapagřanatřan, I teach. Neapagřan, I teach myself. Hapagřankátápegetà, we teach one another. Hapagrani, I teach thee. Riápagřani, thou teachest me. Riapagřan, he teaches me. Yapagřan, he teaches him.

Hamelk, I whip. Hámelgi, I whip thee. Riámelgi, thou whippest me. Riamelk, he whips me. Gramelgi, he whips thee. Yamélk, he whips him.

Hakleenté, I remember. Hakleenchitápegřari, I remember thee. Hakkenchitapegii, thou rememberest me. Yákleentetápegiì, he remembers me. From these instances, you will perceive the variation in transitive verbs, as sometimes eřoà, sometimes yégarige, sometimes raři, or other particles, must be added to the different persons. Believe me, the learning of them is extremely tedious to Europeans, and can only be effected by long acquaintance with these savages. Other Americans also use these transitive verbs, but their form is the same, whether mutual action or passion is expressed. Thus the Guaranies say, Ahaĭhù, I love. Orohaĭhù, I love thee. Ayukà, I kill. Oroyukà, I kill thee. Amboé, I teach. Oromboe, I teach thee, &c. What can be easier or more expeditious than this?

They sometimes express the relative who, by eknam, or, in the plural number, enonam, thus: Dios eknam Kaogarik: God who is the creator. Hemokáchin nauáchiekà, enonam yapochi: I esteem soldiers who are brave. Sometimes, in the manner of the Latins, they suppress the relative who, and supply its place by a participle, or adjective. Riákayà netegingà oakaika, kach quenò ahamr̂aeka: I abominate biting and dead dogs.

CHAPTER XVII.

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."