To utter succinctly, and in as few words as possible the prominent ideas resting upon the mind of the speaker, appear to have been the paramount object with the inventors of the language. Hence concentration became a leading feature. And the pronoun, the adjective, the adverb and the preposition, however they may be disjunctively employed in certain cases, are chiefly useful as furnishing materials to the speaker, to be worked up into the complicated texture of the verb and the substantive. Nothing, in fact, can be more unlike, than the language, viewed in its original, elementary state,—in a vocabulary, for instance, of its primitive words, so far as such a vocabulary can now be formed, and the same language as heard under its oral, amalgamated form. Its transpositions may be likened to a picture, in which the copal, the carmine and the white lead, are no longer recognized as distinct substances, but each of which has contributed its share towards the effect. It is the painter only who possesses the principle, by which one element has been curtailed, another augmented, and all, however seemingly discordant, made to coalesce.
Such a language may be expected to abound in derivatives and compounds; to afford rules for giving verbs substantive, and substantives verbal qualities; to concentrate the meaning of words upon a few syllables, or upon a single letter, or alphabetical sign; and to supply modes of contraction and augmentation, and, if I may so say, short cuts, and by paths to meanings, which are equally novel and interesting. To arrive at its primitives, we must pursue an intricate thread, where analogy is often the only guide. We must divest words of those accumulated syllables, or particles, which, like the molecules of material matter, are clustered around the primitives. It is only after a process of this kind, that the principle of combination—that secret wire, which moves the whole machinery can be searched for, with a reasonable prospect of success. The labor of analysis is one of the most interesting and important, which the subject presents. And it is a labor which it will be expedient to keep constantly in view, until we have separately considered the several parts of speech, and the grammatical laws by which the language is held together; and thus established principles and provided materials wherewith we may the more successfully labor.
1. In a general survey of the language as it is spoken, and as it must be written, there is perhaps no feature which obtrudes itself so constantly to view, as the principle which separates all words, of whatever denomination, into animates and inanimates, as they are applied to objects in the animal, vegetable, or mineral kingdom. This principle has been grafted upon most words, and carries its distinctions throughout the syntax. It is the gender of the language; but a gender of so unbounded a scope, as to merge in it the common distinctions of a masculine and feminine, and to give a two-fold character to the parts of speech. The concords which it requires, and the double inflections it provides, will be mentioned in their appropriate places. It will be sufficient here to observe, that animate nouns require animate verbs for their nominatives, animate adjectives to express their qualities, and animate demonstrative pronouns to mark the distinctions of person. Thus, if we say, I see a man; I see a house, the termination of the verb must be changed. What was in the first instance wâb imâ, is altered to wâb indân. Wâb, is here the infinitive, but the root of this verb is still more remote. If the question occur, Is it a good man, or a good house, the adjective, which, in the inanimate form is onishish-í, is, in the animate onishish-in´. If the question be put, Is it this man, or this house, the pronoun this, which is mâ bum, in the animate, is changed to mâ ndun, in the inanimate.
Nouns animate embrace the tribes of quadrupeds, birds, fishes, insects, reptiles, crustaceæ, the sun and moon and stars, thunder and lightning, for these are personified; and whatever either possesses animal life, or is endowed, by the peculiar opinions and superstitions of the Indians, with it. In the vegetable kingdom, their number is comparatively limited, being chiefly confined to trees, and those only while they are referred to, as whole bodies, and to the various species of fruits, and seeds, and esculents. It is at the option of the speaker to employ nouns, either as animates or inanimates: but it is a choice seldom resorted to, except in conformity with stated exceptions. These conventional exceptions are not numerous, and the more prominent of them, may be recited. The cause of the exceptions it is not always easy to perceive. It may, however, generally be traced to a particular respect paid to certain inanimate bodies, either from their real or fancied properties,—the uses to which they are applied, or the ceremonies to which they are dedicated. A stone, which is the altar of sacrifice to their Manitoes; a bow, formerly so necessary in the chase; a feather, the honored sign of martial prowess; a kettle, so valuable in the household; a pipe, by which friendships are sealed and treaties ratified; a drum, used in their sacred and festive dances; a medal, the mask of authority; vermillion, the appropriate paint of the warrior; wampum, by which messages are conveyed, and covenants remembered. These are among the objects, in themselves inanimates, which require the application of animate verbs, pronouns, and adjectives, and are thereby transferred to the animate class.
It is to be remarked, however, that the names for animals, are only employed as animates, while the objects are referred to, as whole and complete species. But the gender must be changed, when it becomes necessary to speak of separate numbers. Man, woman, father, mother, are separate nouns, so long as the individuals are meant; but hand, foot, head, eye, ear, tongue, are inanimates. Buck, is an animate noun, while his entire carcass is referred to, whether living or dead; but neck, back, heart, windpipe, take the inanimate form. In like manner, eagle, swan, dove, are distinguished as animates, but beak, wing, tail, are arranged with inanimates. So oak, pine, ash, are animate; branch, leaf, root, inanimates.
Reciprocal exceptions, however, exist to this rule,—the reasons for which, as in the former instance, may generally be sought, either in peculiar opinions of the Indians, or in the peculiar qualities or uses of the objects. Thus the talons of the eagle, and the claws of the bear, and of other animals, which furnish ornaments for the neck, are invariably spoken of, under the animate form. The hoofs and horns of all quadrupeds, which are applied to various economical and mystic purposes; the castorum of the beaver, and the nails of man, are similarly situated. The vegetable creation also furnishes some exceptions of this nature; such are the names for the outer bark of all trees, (except the birch,) and the branches, the roots, and the resin of the spruce, and its congeners.
In a language, which considers all nature as separated into two classes of bodies, characterized by the presence or absence of life; neuter nouns, will scarcely be looked for, although such may exist without my knowledge. Neuters are found amongst the verbs and the adjectives, but it is doubtful whether they render the nouns to which they are applied, neuters, in the sense we attach to that term. The subject in all its bearings, is interesting, and a full and minute description of it, would probably elicit new light respecting some doubtful points in the language, and contribute something towards a curious collateral topic—the history of Indian opinions. I have stated the principle broadly, without filling up the subject of exceptions, as fully as it is in my power, and without following its bearings upon points, which will more properly come under discussion, at other stages of the inquiry. A sufficient outline, it is believed, has been given, and having thus met, at the threshold, a principle deeply laid at the foundation of the language, and one which will be perpetually recurring, I shall proceed to enumerate some other prominent features of the substantive.
2. No language is perhaps so defective, as to be totally without number. But there, are, probably, few which furnish so many modes of indicating it, as the Ojibwai. There are as many modes of forming the plural, as there are vowel sounds, yet there is no distinction between a limited and unlimited plural; although there is, in the pronoun, an inclusive and an exclusive plural. Whether we say man or men, two men or twenty men, the singular, inin´i, and the plural inin´iwug, remains the same. But if we say we, or us, or our men, (who are present,) or we, or us, or our Indians, (in general,) the plural